Public Energy - Three 'O Three

Probe Records: 1992/2021

Hey now, don't look at me that way. I was one-hundred percent truthful when claiming completion with Speedy J records at this end of my alphabetical queue. I said nothing about any other of his aliases! Haha, gotcha', hook, line, and sinker! Unless you already saw this joke coming, though I'm not sure how. The original title of this EP was after the two tracks on the A-Side, Hemi-Sync, but for some reason, Jochem re-issued it on Bandcamp titled with the lead track on the B-Side, Three 'O Three. Maybe he felt it the superior cut out of all four tracks? Only way to find out is to dive right in, yo'!

As a record being released on the harder offshoot of Plus 8 Records, Hemi-Sync (Part 1) definitely fits the bill. There isn't anything fancy about it, just a steady thump of a kick, some fills that drop into an industrial grinder, little bleepy leads rotating in and out throughout the duration. One of those leads sounds suspiciously like The KLF's What Time Is Love, but it's so brief and muffled, I can't be certain. Wouldn't surprise me though, as I'm sure it was a highly common sample in the year 1991.

Speaking of brief, the track is but a mere four minutes long, which may as well be a progressive house epic compared to the svelte Hemi-Sync (Part 2), clocking in just over three-and-a-half minutes long. Heck, you could be fooled into thinking it's half that length too, as there's a one-second pause right in the middle of the track! Given Part 2 is little more than a drum tool, I'm sure DJs could have a lot of fun with this, but there isn't much else to it. Still, if folks ever complained about Speedy J's turn to the 4am warehouse bosh in the new millennium, here's proof positive he always had an ear for minimal techno functionality.

Anyhow, here's Three 'O Three, the track given the re-issued spotlight. This just might be the third dumbest thing Jochem's ever made. Not Pull Over dumb, thank God, but it's about as blunt an acid techno workout as you could make in the olden days. The beats are nothing more than a hardcore stomp, there's enough hi-hat action keeping things busy, and the TB-303 tweaks in suitable fashion. Again, more of a tool than a track. Mind, it's not like the fourth track on this EP, B.S.G. (Binaural Signal Generator), is any more brilliant in the beat department, but it at least has something of a hook going for it, plus more of a 'song' progression, such as early '90s bangin' techno could have.

Review wrapped, I'd like to take a moment to mention the passing of an old friend, Ritchie Banipal. We weren't especially close, mostly keeping contact through Facebook in recent years, but had many memorable times together during our Canadian hinterland raving days, memories I'll always cherish. I will miss your sharing of “fotos”, Ritchie.

Speedy J - Something For Your Mind - The Remixes

Music Man Records: 1992/2021

The other big crossover hit Speedy J landed early in his career, but hardly the embarrassment Pullover is. Yeah, the vocal nicked from C'hantal's The Realm can grate after a bit, but there's plenty more going on such that you don't have to entirely focus on it. Besides, if you need proof Mr. Paap doesn't mind this track as part of his discography compared to Pullover, just gander at the cover art he used for the Bandcamp remaster.

Something For Your Mind gets to have the O.G. Plus 8 Records glory, while Pullover features the Music Man Records art, even though this package technically contains all the music from the Music Man version. Keep in mind that the record this release got its art from, simply titled The Remixes, also featured Pullover on the A-side, yet Something For Your Mind gets to rub shoulders with all of Plus 8's greats instead. Right, I know the Pullover single came out before it was featured on The Remixes, but hey, if Jochem is a stickler for such details, why not use the Music Man art for Something For Your Mind as well?

Anyhow, while all the other singles had remixes of Something For Your Mind, and not the original cut, this re-issue does include the original! Or at least, the version as heard on the Rise EP, which was a live outing of crashing rhythms, but I guess ol' Jochem feels that's the definitive one – it's certainly as close to the sort of techno he'd eventually rinse out on the regular.

Realizing a live rendition might be a bit too bang-on for proper single consideration (and maybe wanting to add a little more songcraft compared to the dumb-thump of Pullover), Speedy J's own remix brings some ravey synth stabs, tension building strings, and cowbell. It's also rather muted compared to the live version, which makes it less powerful if you want to get folks properly pumped. It's as though Jochem forgot to add the gains for these remasters. Or were they just recorded that quietly in the first place?

The other remix comes care of Exposure, one Maurits Paardekooper and Rick van Breugel (these Dutch names, I swear). They were part of the Techno Grooves collective, a bunch of Dutchmen making techno in the early '90s, which also included Speedy J. They've been semi-active to this day, and Richie Hawtin seemed to like Maurits' Percussion Electrique under his Dwarf alias. Meanwhile, van Breugel has way too many aliases and projects for me to dig further, so let's move onto their remix of Something For Your Mind.

The longest of this batch, Exposure uses even punchier, crunchier rave stabs than Speedy J's rub, adds some choir pads at the peaks, and that's about it. Hey, it ain't bad for a '92 Dutch techno tune, but at nine-minutes long, kinda' overstays its welcome as well. Maybe needed an edited version? *listens to the 7” Remix*. Oh dear, no. That was just pointless.

Spicelab - Quicksand EP

Harthouse/Solieb Digital: 1992/2013

I've held off buying Oliver Lieb Bandcamp remasters for far too long. Always that niggling hope though, that maybe, just maybe, he'd release a hard copy version of his early singles across various aliases, gathering them into a compilation, as done with his L.S.G. works. And I suppose there's still a chance it will happen, but really, if it hasn't happened by now, chances are it never will ...and watch me get proven wrong by this summer.

Anyhow, the early Spicelab singles remained highest on my 'Want' list, so naturally they were the first I sprung for. The Quicksand EP in particular was a unique item in the Spicelab canon, as the titular track is among the first tunes Mr. Lieb released on the downbeat. Perhaps not as notable overall since he'd release the ambient-leaning Constellation on Recycle Or Die the following year, but for a producer who was mostly making blistering, raw acid and techno, Quicksand is a significant step in Oliver's musical evolution.

I already touched on the track as it appeared on the Harthouse Dark Hearts, Vol. 1 compilation, but I may as well re-iterate. Maintaining that experimental sci-fi bent Spicelab often enjoyed, this one opens with lengthy, spaced-out synths gliding and sliding along sine waves, all the while someone hurriedly rushes up a flight of hallway stairs. Man, I can feel my calves getting a work-out just listening to this!

Seriously though, Quicksand has most of the hallmarks of a typical trance tune of the era, just played in a far more chill way, the groove a steady, soft rhythm while all sorts of electronic sounds bubble about. It's an extremely slow build getting to a point where everything's in play, and even then, it doesn't make a big fuss about it, simply cruising along for the track's duration. For those used to the harder side of Spicelab – heck, Harthouse in general – this had to be quite the ear-opener. Small wonder it was tapped for label retrospective consideration.

On the flip, however, is where you'll find the bangers. Amorph is probably the most famous of the lot, an early example of Oliver steering German trance music into the acid techno of the day. It starts out typically of the genre in '92: noisy noises, simple rave riffs, and speedy 150 BPM beats. At the two-minute mark though, those distinct Lieb space synths emerge, flying along with simple pitch bends and squiggly electronics, sending the track into outer orbit. There were examples of these sounds in the debut Spicelab EP, but never used to this effect. The cheeky 'gabber' beats towards the end are just silly fun.

The third track on this EP is called 56387. It's got an annoying hook that sounds like a cyborg strangling a synthesizer. It's mostly just boshy acid techno with some ol' school German trance choir pads. It's not as interesting as the rest of this EP. It was just the style at the time.

Dr. Alban - One Love (The Album)

BMG: 1992

The man known on his Nigerian birth certificate as Alban Uzoma Nwapa led a fairly pedestrian life before becoming a pop star in Euroland. He had no ambition to score a clutch of dance hits in the early '90s, no desire to become fodder for Swedish tabloids. All he wanted was to practice dentistry! He had to pay the bills somehow while going to school though, so took up some DJing gigs at local clubs, even commanding the microphone during his sets on occasion. That was enough to catch the attention of another Swedish DJ by the name of Dag Krister Volle, who was looking to get into the production side of things. The two joined forces, the former performing as Dr. Alban, the latter taking on the nomme de plume Denniz PoP. Yes, that Denniz PoP, the Godfather of Contemporary Swedish Pop (Max Martin came up under his tutelage).

The result was one of the earliest and most famous of the eurodance stars – yes, more so than even Haddaway! Dr. Alban's success lay in fully embracing his ethnic roots, sing-rapping with a heavy afro-accent, all the while honouring his heritage with songs like Hello Afrika and Proud! (To Be Afrikan). Then he and Denniz topped it with an anthem for the ages: It's My Life.

Seriously, this song seems to age like fine wine. Already packing in the best of what italo house had to offer in rousing piano hooks and unashamed choir choruses, this is peak time eurodance, setting the template for what the genre would morph into in the coming years. Of course the Swedes would get there first.

What I find so resonate with it though is the song's message, especially in our modern clime's. It's a simple declaration from Dr. Alban, of letting him just be, without the intrusions of those who should mind their own business. Far as I know, it was written as a means of dealing with his newfound fame, but the doc' stumbled upon something that can apply to so much more, just... so much more. How hasn't this song become a rallying cry for the LGBTQ+ community these days, who's lives are nothing but intruded upon when they just want to live their lives unhindered? Or maybe it has, I just haven't heard about it.

Oh, right, the album, One Love. The titular single is more of a dancehall ditty, while Sing Hallelujah! was another big house hit off here. The rest mostly runs the gamut between hi-NRG dance cuts, and nods to Alban's musical influences of reggae and afro-dance. Oh, and the obligatory safe-sex song in Roll Down Di Rubber Man, because early '90s. Honestly, aside from those big singles, One Love really does show its age. It's well produced and remarkably diverse for a '92 record, but if this era does nothing for you, nor will these songs either.

Except that BASSLINE in No Coke, another timeless slice of reggae boogie! ...Erm, as performed by Swedes.

KMFDM - Money

Wax Trax! Records/Metropolis: 1992/2006

Going from KMFDM's latest release of In Dub, to... well, not their earliest release. Much as I generally like this band, I don't think I can handle ultra-raw early-ass industrial rock. Or I may, the allure of What Do You Know, Deutschland? too tempting to resist forever. Still, I'm dipping back far enough, into a time I know little about.

Like a vast majority of folks not steeped in industrial, I learned of KMFDM's existence after they were swept into the TVT Records fold when the New York print bought a flailing Chicago print in Wax Trax! Records. As Sascha and co. were signed to Wax Trax!, they benefited from TVT's marketing, the label quite aggressive in pushing and promoting its bands wherever they could (looking for the next Nine Inch Nails their biggest incentive, no doubt). It was this greater exposure that clued folks like me into some wildly thrashy EBM beats lurking on the fringes of the dankest clubs.

All that didn't actually happen until their album Angst though. Instead, we're taking a step back to the prior record, Money, the last of the Wax Trax! Proper era. And what a fitting album capturing the tumultuous times with their labels, because hoo-wee, the band was going through its first of many tumultuous times as well. Even if you knew nothing about the behind-the-scenes going-ons, you'd have to suspect something wasn't quite right in KMFDM-Land.

Things kick off fun enough, the titular opener bringing bombastic riffs and orchestral stings before settling into funky EBM boogie. Things carry on about in typical KMFDM fashion, if a little more primitive compared to their later work, as would be expected. This album also has the distinction of being the first appearance of Dorona Alberti, who's vocals would become just as much a definitive part of the band's peak years as any amount of Sascha screaming and Günter Schulz shredding.

As Money plays out though, one can't help but get a sense the songwriting is a bit lacking. Rather than full-tilt buttrock industrial, things seem to settle into repetitive loops, music more in service of clubbing fodder. If you didn't know better, you'd assume Money was just a stopgap of EBM dance remixes, the care and attention paid to actual songs absent.

Fortunately, the liner notes help you to know better, a perfectly legit reason for this album coming off as two halves, one of which is incomplete. Turns out this was supposed to be an album of two halves, the first written by Sascha, the other written by band co-founder En Esch. When submitted to the label, however, they basically rejected En's material, leading to a splitting of the duo (they later reconciled), leaving Sascha to cobble together some new material to make the album's due date. Given all that, it's remarkable the extra tunes turned out as reasonably well-off as they did, but yeah, don't go into Money expecting similar highs as the rest of KMFDM's '90s output.

Various - EarthBeat

Jumpin' & Pumpin': 1992/2021

Well, this certainly makes that 4-CD Techno Explosion compilation redundant. If you recall my five year old review (!!), I picked it up for exactly one track, Q by Mental Cube. My reasoning was, of the few available options out there, it seemed the most cost-effective. Old pre-FSOL music from Dougans and Cobain was growing pricier on the second-hand market, and no way any of those early collections from Jumpin' & Pumpin' would see a re-issue. So of course they put out a 30th Anniversary release of EarthBeat, the compilation highlighting a bunch of tunes from their early pre-Accelerator catalogue, including Q by Mental Cube. Thanks, Jumpin' & Pumpin'! Or is it fsoldigital that did it? Whoever put it on their Bandcamp page.

In case you haven't kept up with your Future Sound Of London history, Earthbeat is the name of Brian and Dougans' original studio, infamously barely bigger than a working closet lodged between a couple other music gear shops. The lucrative Virgin deal landed them the money to expand, but before their breakout in Papua New Guinea, they mostly used the typical tools of the techno trade of the time: Roland synths and drum machines, Akai samplers, Atari computer, and the like. Small wonder the material released as Mental Cube or Indo Tribe or Smart Systems or Yage wasn't much evolved ('future sounding', if you will) compared to their contemporaries of the time. All they could afford was whatever else everyone else was using, including a few hand-me-downs. Not to mention a little self plagiarism when they finally did a proper album in Accelerator.

With that in mind, going into EarthBeat expecting something mind-bending three decades on is a fool's errand. This compilation is very much a product of its time, techno that you instantly date to three specific years (1990, 1991, 1992), with very little hope of excelling beyond. Yes, Q is one of the few – how many tunes can lay claim to a bunch of bleeping turning into an earworm? Papua New Guinea is also here, but it's the Dumb Child Of Q remix (aka: just the ambient-ish intro), which will never not leave the listener with blue ear-balls. Elsewhere, In The Mind Of A Child is another strong outing for bleep techno, and Tingler's fun for some ol' skool 'ardcore.

As for the rest, they're mostly fine, and certainly show off more diversity than you'd expect from early FSOL: You Took My Love going piano house, People Livin' Today a pure Balearic house outing, Chile Of The Bass Generation repping that Meat Beat Manifesto vibe, the Coby '94 Mix of Stakker Humanoid going full-bore acid techno. If you didn't know better, you might even believe all these aliases were unique artistes on the same label.

The byline on EarthBeat's cover sure suggests so, implicating FSOL, Indo Tribe, Semi Real, Smart Systems, Yage, Mental Cube, Candese, and Humanoid all different. Like, it was some secret knowledge that had to be maintained for all time.

Nine Inch Nails - Broken

Nothing Records: 1992

Feels like I've come another full circle, having started this blogging project with an unexpected dive into Nine Inch Nails' discography. Closer, The Downward Spiral, Further Down The Spiral, and Fixed came from a previous owner of those CDs, but I was intrigued enough by Reznor's music to also spring for The Fragile and Ghosts I-IV. Now, as I crawl ever closer to some sort of proper conclusion to this project, I've come to Broken, the last of the big EPs from the band's '90s output. Except The Perfect Drug, but I kinda' already have that since Lab 4 nicked it.

Broken came out at an interesting time in the Nine Inch Nails saga, by which I mean an utterly turbulent, tumultuous test of Trent's resolve. Despite the success of his debut album, Reznor wasn't reaping all the rewards for his efforts. He felt TVT Records was dicking him around (because they were), and was looking for a way out of his contract with them, even going so far as to record new music on the sly under different aliases. It did land him with Interscope Records, and his own Nothing Records, but TVT somehow still had their fingers in the pot (to say nothing of how those label deals turned out later, but that's a discussion for another time). Throw in the killer combo of a world tour that wasn't turning out as they'd hoped, and it's unsurprising that angst-filled thrash vibes were seeping into Trent's sonic palette. Hey, anything to distance themselves from the 'synth-pop' tag TVT so carelessly tossed on them.

The result was Wish, where distorted guitars sound like they're being ground up and chewed back out by the machinery of industry, only to finally unleash their full fury in the chorus (a few 'fuck's thrown in for good measure). Heavy metal industrial was already in existence, but few put as much production detail as Reznor did here, a song remarkably dense for something so primal. Last is more of a standard thrash rocker, while Happiness In Slavery gets thicker in the industrial muck with EBM basslines and digital distortions. Final track Gave Up comes off rather quaint in comparison, muffled for much of its duration, at least until a raucous close-out of shouty, thrashy noise, as if to drive home the point that Nine Inch Nails is anything but a 'synth pop' band.

When Broken first came out, it was followed-up by a mini-EP with extra songs, a gimmick that would carry on with Closer. That was soon changed, second runs of Broken simply adding the tunes to the regular EP, but indexing them as tracks 98-99. Yes, this is one of those CDs, with 90 seconds of silence eaten up by second-long tracks. Hey, if there's fun to be had with the format, have at her. Oh, the songs themselves? Decent hard industrial rockers, but not worth the wait to hear them. Thank god for instant access on computer devices!

Harold Budd, Daniel Lentz, Ruben Garcia - Music For 3 Pianos

All Saints: 1992/2018

Whoa, I wrapped up that last batch of 'L' albums with a Harold Budd release, and now I'm wrapping up the 'M's with another of his. Does this mean the start of a trend, where each batch of letters will feature an item from that Budd Box bundle? Ah, no. Just a total coincidence. Besides, even if Budd's lone 'N' album was in this collection (too recent a release to qualify for the Budd Box), Nighthawks wouldn't even be at the end of the upcoming batch, three more CDs coming after that particular position in my alphabetical queue. Eh? Which albums might those be? Oh, something old, something new, something now now.

With a tidy amount of word count now burnt, I can reasonably do a tidy little review of this tidy little album from Harold Budd, Music For 3 Pianos. Well, not sure I can call this an LP-album, barely over twenty minutes in length. What's remarkable is this isn't the shortest 'album' in this box set, the earlier The Serpent (In Quicksilver) not even reaching that 'lofty' length.

While ol' Harold had no problem playing the piano on his own, he wasn't averse to adding fellow musicians into the mix. The obvious pairing was with Brian Eno, which immensely helped his profile among the niche market he already existed in. Along the way he paired with the Cocteau Twins in The Moon And The Melodies, but it wasn't until Music For 3 Pianos that Mr. Budd would truly unleash the collaborative floodgates forever after. Joining him on this venture was Daniel Lentz and Ruben Garcia. Lentz was a composer of some note through the '70s and '80s, though save his album Missa Umbrarum, quite opulent compared to the minimalist lane Budd usually traversed in. Garcia seems to have been a relative unknown compared to the others, this album his first Discoggian entry. He released a few more items after this, mostly obscure self-released ambient affairs, though did pair up with Budd on a few more albums before his passing half a decade ago. We got the instruments set up, the players involved introduced. Time to hear us some three pianist action, yo'! (stop sniggering, you)

And it's... surprisingly bare. Like, I should have expected it from a Harold Budd joint, but for some reason, I figured three players would involve more dynamic interplay, maybe on a jazz tip. Instead, it seems like more a 'call-and-response' thing going on, one player offering sparse tones while another adds their interaction, all the while allowing enough space between that you couldn't interpret this as anything other than Harold Budd doing Harold Budd th'angs. And I'm admittedly no expert on the intricacies of piano interplay, but isn't there supposed to be a third member here? I honestly can't tell.

Music For 3 Pianos is certainly pleasant in its presentation, but I can't deny being a little let down by what I was expecting, even for a Harold Budd album.

Various - Ambient Dub, Volume 1: The Big Chill

Beyond: 1992

Finally, after many years and hundreds (thousands?) of name-drops, I've come to the grand-daddy of all chill-out compilations, Beyond's Ambient Dub, Volume 1: The Big Chill. Before this, you had The Orb, Enigma, The KLF's Chill Out, and precious little else receiving much exposure, compilations of the stuff just not dreamt of. Heck, even those artists were relegated to 'top chart hits' CDs rather than anything aimed at mentally gassed punters. And while the industry was likely primed to cash-in on this lucrative sub-scene of post-partying, Beyond got there before most, thus credited with making 'ambient dub' a thing.

What made The Big Chill so brilliant at the time was how its fully aware of what was generating buzz for home-listening options in electronic music, offering its own take on each of them. The lightly jazz-n-hop vibe acts like Massive Attack and Nightmares On Wax were doing? Here's the Original Rockers, then, serving up a slice of Sexy Selector, but way deeper in the Jamaican dub. Or maybe the playful house-dub of The Orb is more to your liking. Then 21st Century Aura will hook you up with Disorientation, including a cheeky preacher sample running throughout (“witchcraft!”).

Eh, you prefer world beat? Here's a promising up-and-comer name Banco De Gaia then, sending you on a dusty caravan through the Desert Wind. Ah, it was actually that erotic Enigma stylee you were after. I'm sure G.O.L.'s Angelica In Delirium has you covered with church bells, chants, and Antonia Reiner's seductive poetry. No, no, it's that future leaning sound you crave, more in line with bleep and ambient techno as found on the first Artificial Intelligence. Fair enough, and Alphanex's Planet Hoskins serves that up in spades (or is that hearts?).

I think that touches on all the prominent movements in downtempo and chill-out music of the time. Oh, I guess there was Real Ambient too, and wouldn't you know it, Mimoid even inches in that territory, with the two-parter track Tree Of The Sun, Tree Of The Moon. The first half has a crunchy bouncy beat, that “you make me feel so good” sample, and dripping water (my dad quipped it was Chinese Water Torture when it played out on its own), but the second-half is essentially beatless, save a little acid bassline. There's also sweeping synths, whale calls, and dubbed-out sci-fi sounds, making it sound as though you're soaring through the cosmos. Quite a brilliant bit of dub production really, a spell better than Mimoid's other offering of Strawberry, which features an insistently annoying, distracting loop of “okay, let's do it” throughout its runtime. That's the only dud track on here though.

Banco's Soufie, HIA's Ketamine Entity (d'at bass!), and the proto trip-hop of 21st Century Aura's Something Started round out the rest, and a great rounding out it is. If you ever wanted to know why ambient dub became such a trendy thing in the early '90s, The Big Chill is all the evidence you need.

Sven Väth - Accident In Paradise

Eye Q Records: 1992

Only Sven Väth could make a 'solo' debut such as this and get away with it. Like could you imagine a man in the 2000s behind Very Serious minimal techno parties in Ibiza creating something as daft as a flute and harpsichord Coda? Not bloody likely – unless, of course, you are Sven Väth, a chap who probably hasn't a clue where his inspiration will take him. He just goes with it as he feels it. And my mind boggles of what it must have been like to hear Accident In Paradise when it was fresh and new, a collection of highfalutin artistry from the dude behind the legendary OMEN nightclub, and who's previous major musical output consisted of singing with the boys behind Snap!

In officially putting his name on an actual record though, I'm sure the young Väth had a ton of ideas floating about his head, many of which inspired by the raving lunatics he saw emerging in Frankfurt's nascent clubbing scene. The freaks were coming out in full force, uninhibited by the looming threat of crushing communism while getting knackered on really good drugs. It must have looked like a carnival of world-wide cultures, all meeting at a European crossroads, where tribal spiritualists could intermingle within aristocratic chambers. So many ideas, so many influences, how can one interpret them within the confines of dance album? Probably you don't, but that didn't stop Sven from at least trying.

Fortunately, Mr. Väth had a secret weapon at his disposal, helping him curate his ideas into something presentable. Okay, Ralf Hildenbeutel wasn't that much of a secret, the man already instrumental in producing many of Eye Q Records' early singles. He and Väth even released a collaborative album earlier that year as Barbarella, a more straight-forward techno LP. Having gotten what was 'expected' of them out, they were free to indulge in whatever fit their fancy in a proper artist record. Just make sure that lead single's a stompin' acid techno cut though – don't want to scare the punters off before they buy the album.

Accident In Paradise is, if nothing else, an ambitious LP that almost comes together as Sven and Ralf envisioned. Heavily front-loaded, the opening salvo of tribal-trancer Ritual Of Life, sweeping ambience of Caravan Of Emotions, and blissy Balearic vibes of L'Esperanza eats thirty-five minutes of the album, more than half its runtime. It can't help but go down from there, and they don't even try reaching that lofty peak again, the back half of Accident In Paradise mostly taken up by interstitial musical doodles of Renaissance dalliances. Even Mellow Illusion, a groovy, nine-minute old-school trancer, comes off humble and ordinary in this album's context. Re-issues added the radio version of L'Esperanza, giving you reason to keep the album playing through, if you're willing to sit through Sven and Ralf's psychedelic carnival ride getting there. I give them props for including such daft tunes like Merry-Go-Round Somewhere, but like most, I usually tap out after Mellow Illusion.

Curve - Doppelgänger

Anxious Records/3 Loop Music: 1992/2017

(A Patreon Request from Omskbird)

Though it's among the most mundane of critical platitudes, often repeated when digging around for associated info and insight into Curve's debut album Doppelgänger, I can't help but fall lock-step with it. So here it is, the quote emblazoned on promo stickers and adoring liner notes: “These guys were really ahead the 'curve', man!” Like, if I didn't know this came out in the early '90s, I'd have sworn it was a release from around the 'electronica' boom. Tunes like Already Yours and Fait Accompli could have rubbed shoulders with Republica and Orgy on compilations, while Horror Head might have appeared on a trendy, low-budget hacker thriller soundtrack. Toni Halliday could have paired up with a progressive house producer for a hit sing- no, wait, she did do that, with Paul van Dyk.

The music here does defy much of what rock was doing at the time though, such that they invented a whole new term for it. Fortunately, a couple other bands like Chapterhouse were doing similar things with ultra-dense effects pedals, so it was undeniable a new genre was being birthed. Yet despite getting lumped in with the nascent 'shoegaze' scene, Curve stood out from the pack, a rougher, noisier edge to their ethereal wall-of-sound, with grinding basslines and mechanical rhythms suggesting more an association with industrial rock (itself still developing). Throw in Ms. Halliday slightly Gothic look (that eye-shadow!), and it's no surprise the band might have fit snuggly within that scene too. But wait, all that distortion! Might they have also been grunge as well? No, no, the 'danceable' beats totally makes them part of the 'Madchester' brigade. Urgh, why you no easily fit anywhere, Curve?

Naturally, an album this seminal could only receive a super-deluxe double-CD re-issue for its 25th Anniversary, and 3 Loop Music doesn't hold back. Not only do you get the original ten-track album, but a pile of associated singles sprung from it, plus the original three EPs leading up to it (Blindfold, Frozen, Cherry), a couple live cuts, their obscure cover of the disco classic I Feel Love, and a bonus Aphex Twin remix of the track Falling Free! And by remix, I of course mean a standard On EP era track, with some of Toni's ethereal singing used as a pad. I think even his Jesus Jones remix retained more of the original. Ooh, there's another band I can't help thinking of while playing back Doppelgänger, though I'm certain folks would hate that comparison.

I'm kinda' beating around the bush with song specifics, because this 2CD package is honestly overkill. Curve's sound is neat and unique, but after two-plus hours of it with little variation, it all mushes into my head like an industrial shoegaze sonic soup. Sandpit offers a nice pure-ethereal respite, and the Blindfold EP material provides a quirky look at Curve's development (rapping!), but twenty- three songs (and an Aphex bonus) is just too much for one sitting. Needs more spacing for a full appreciation.

Various - Techno 3: Still Tripping (Compiled By Chris Sheppard)

Quality Music: 1992

Before Club Cutz, before Groove Station. Before Love Inc., before Destination Dance Floor. Hell, even before Pirate Radio Sessions, though about the same time as Rock Em Sock Em 5, there was The Techno Trip. Or Trip To The Moon. Or Have A Nice Trip. Or... just Techno (2)? Is that really what you're labelling this series, Lord Discogs? Whatever. To all Canadians, the compilations were simply known as Chris Sheppard's Techno Trip, and it was our first real taste of rave music on a commercial level. Sure, there were enclaves and outlets savvy heads knew about (mostly in Montreal and Toronto), but none had the national exposure Quality Music provided (MuchMusic ads helped).

And yeah, despite the name, there isn't much in the way of techno on these CDs, mostly exercises in old school rave and hardcore tracks. Give Shep' some slack though, the early '90s still a wild west of genre breeding, with only a few established, accepted terms around. It was called techno because it certainly wasn't house, and rave was the place you went to, or something. Look, there wasn't any internet (much less a music guide) to hash out these debates – heck, there was barely even any 'journalism' going on regarding this scene. It's not Shep's fault Canada was seriously lagging behind on rave music (but oh, did we ever have it goin' on with EBM!).

As for his third 'trip' into 'techno', it's an average affair of vintage tunes, with the usual assortment of overplayed samples and hoover sounds. The opening cut from Shep's BKS project (with his DJ moniker Dogwhistle on the rub) even nicks the bleepy goodness of LFO, plus throws in a couple children rhymes, because that was the trendy thing to do at the time. It honestly isn't that bad, provided you haven't much exposure to rave music before, and I reckon the Canadian audience that bought this hadn't.

Notable acts such as Acen, Shut Up And Dance, Joey Beltram, N.R.G. (they never lost their hardcore) and Voodoo Child (aka: Moby) also show up, with a few lesser known acts rounding things out. Dream Frequency's Feel So Real and Rhythm Quest's Closer To All Your Dreams gets in on those rolling piano anthems, while Bass Construction's Dance With Power and Project One's Roughneck will get your Prodigy triggers going.

And then there's the back-end of Techno 3 – Still Tripping, where all the novelty tunes are lumped. Apotheosis' apocalyptic choir anthem Obumbratta makes another appearance, sans booming gabber beats, while Poing from Rotterdam Termination Source hints where Dutch hardcore would eventually go (sadly). And let's not forget Harajuku, who made a career of doing dance covers of famous opera and musical numbers, breaking out here with Phantom Of The Opera. And what's this Back To Jack Your Body from Steve “Silk” Hurley at the end? It doesn't sound like rave or techno – much too slow, what with that funky acid groove and all. It sullies this compilation's genre purity!

The Oak Ridge Boys - Favorite Songs

Sony Music Select: 1992

Greetings, Past-Peoples. It is I, once again, 2073 Sykonee, of the far flung son of a past-man. Not a preacher man, though he did often orate to masses large and small about getting down to Swingtown. He was quite Smooth about it too, but alas, his time came and went, the flocks no longer there to hear his sage Messages In Bottles. Eh? Nah, this didn't happen in my-past/your-future – it's already happened, and cannot be prevented. Folks may enjoy a bar band when visiting their local waterhole, but not many proprietors pay for them, especially 'established musicians', who are well past the point of just looking for a chance to play to a live audience for drinks and gas money.

And yes, we still have bands that go on tours by my time, though very few of them bother with actual instruments anymore. Heckles, I recall it being as such even back thenners, almost all the major new big stars singers and rappers and mumblers and criers. These days, we still get singers and rappers, but also crooners, boxers, and acapellers. With most new music generated automatically to our specific whims via streamloads, the only skill that impresses anyone is what they can do with their voice. You're damn skippy, drippy-hippies, that the Mongolian throat singers took over the Cascadian airwaves like a new horde of dorpeness. Vocalizations is where it's all at in the new-modern.

Which helps explain the enduring popularity of The Oak Ridge Boys for so long. For certain they aren't as dynamic as Afro Veldt-Funk, and it's undeniable they're a product of their time and place, back when the American States weren't so fragmented... until they were again. Hey, the group's existed long enough to see it all, y'all, every rise and fall of all the Empires and Global Dominions.

Naturally, a group as long lasting as this has amassed an extensive discography, one ripe for plundering songs into compilation form. And hoo-Nelly, do The Oak Ridge Boys have themselves a lot of compilations, such that it'd take me to the the end of my time within your time to even scratch that surface. Sykonee Prime assures all that he's gathered for me to review contain unique songs among each release, but I don't trust myself there. No way I could have done that extensive of research into this, especially on a budget.

Favorite Songs sure seems like a raggity-tagged assortment of Oak Ridge Boys tunes though. Ten songs long, it features material mostly from their Nauty-Seventies country period, but only two were actual singles (Loves Me Like A Rock and Rhythm Guitar), neither of which were charting hits. Are these favourite songs from the Boys themselves, then? They sure sound like they're having fun singing them, peppy and swinging as that era's country so often goes. Why, some of it even reminds me of an old fav' of mine, Neil Youngman, though with heavier emphasis on the Jesus stuff.

Pantera - Vulgar Display Of Power

ATCO Records: 1992

The only Pantera album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Pantera fan. Any metal fan worth their salt will have this though, for no other reason than that cover. Imagine what it was like being a longhair back in the day, wandering into your local shop in search of something that was keeping the thrash fire alive. The standard bearers, Metallica, had left a void with their deliberate crossover effort the year before (the black album), any number of metal bands potentially stepping to the plate to take over. But Megadeth aimed to follow Metallica's lead, Slayer was between albums, and Anthrax was getting all chummy with hip-hop. No, someone new had to take the mantle, and believing their fresh, groove-orientated take on thrash could do the trick, Pantera aimed to drop the heaviest metal album ever with Vulgar Display Of Power. And to make sure they got your attention, they dropped the most fucking metal cover art ever onto store shelves, something you just couldn't look away from and had to hear what lay within. Paying a dude $10 a punch for the perfect shot never had such rewarding dividends.

More than anything, Vulgar Display Of Power marks a flashpoint in the way metal would be approached in the '90s. No more falsetto singing, Phil Anselmo instead bringing that underground hardcore growl to the forefront and never relenting, save a pair of obligatory ballads. And that bassline needs pitching right the fuck down, practically buried in the mix, so that it grinds like a machine – many subsequent thrash and death metal bands lifted this technique wholesale, such that the Pantera clones forced the band to go even heavier in Far Beyond Driven, just to keep pace.

But those guitar riffs, mang! Dimebag Darrell showed plenty of skill in albums past, but in unleashing their inner beast with Vulgar Display Of Power, he went to a whole other level (a new level!). For sure he let's Pantera's groove carry the load, his guitar tones featuring some of the heaviest crunch and feral snarl ever heard in the genre to that date. But he gets to solo time, and geez'it, the guy's just gone, mang, just gone. Gander at Rise, already an intense tear-out session, taking shredding to glorious highs. It's about the only remnant of '80s thrash on this album, everything else feeling '90s as fuck. Hell, even the 'ballad' This Love comes off more Gen-X pissed-off than whatever passed for sentimental in the decade prior. Other 'ballad' Hollow feeds more off '70s melodrama before getting to the punchy stuff to finish out.

Aggro-groove stompers dominate the album (A New Level, Walk, Live In A Hole, Regular People, By Demons Be Driven), with furious tear-outs breaking any potential monotony (Mouth For War, Fucking Hostile, Rise), though Pantera aren't hesitant to change tempo mid-track either. Something for every metal-head on here, then. Get it, and storm that lacrosse field with the fury of a thousand moshers.

The Orb - U.F.Orb

Island Records/Inter-Modo: 1992/2005

It’d difficult denying U.F.Orb as the group’s best work, though I can understand how others might enjoy their other albums more. After the genre-defining excess that was Ultraworld though, The Orb were quick in adjusting and refining just what they had on tap with their music. Cut out all that excessive ambient dithering (save it for the live shows, plus no one got the ironic ‘prog-rock’ joke of it all anyway), focus in on more groovy earworms that rave punters and chilled stoners could vibe on equally, and make each collaboration play to those particular players’ strengths rather than having them around just because you could. The result is six near-perfect tracks within the Orb canon, custom made for the ’92 crowds, and enduring to this day. Plus Sticky End.

Right, high claims signaling out U.F.Orb as most essential and all that, especially as it lacks those truly iconic Orb tunes everyone knows. The closest two we get are Blue Room and Towers Of Dub, each the fifteen-minute breaking behemoth highlights of the album, and the sort of cuts that turned Ultraworld into the double-disc effort it was. Hilariously, the original mix of Blue Room clocked in at a shade under forty minutes in length, a cheeky attack of sorts on the UK charts in pushing the limits of what constituted a single in that nation’s music scene. Hey, I wouldn’t mind hearing that on the radio – any chance to hear more of Jah Wobble’s bass work and Steve Hillage’s space guitar effects is ace in my ears. Nor did the British folk either, Blue Room peaking out at number eight, The Orb’s second highest single ever (only Toxygene’s done better, deliberately so).

Towers Of Dub is the other one, what with its charming bell melody, funky harmonica tootin’ from Marney Pax, and, um, towering layers of dub effects throughout (and can’t forget ‘that bassline’!). I suppose opener O.O.B.E. is a minor memorable tune off here, if anything for its inclusion on Live 93. It’s such an ultra-mellow piece of music though, about as ambient as anything The Orb produced in this era, and frustratingly quiet at times too. For some reason, the only part that ever sticks in my head is the sampled game of billiards.

What of the remaining three, then? How do they fit in the grand Orb lexicon? The titular cut, a modest six minute piece that may as well be proto prog-house, goes about its business as a decent enough transitional cut between O.O.B.E. and Blue Room. Close Encounters goes longer, grooving along on a similar sample-heavy house vibe. Finally Majestic, the obligatory Youth collaboration, keeps the proggy tone going, with a hook in its final minutes that’s as ear-vermis as anything else on U.F.Orb. How this one never turned out a single, I haven’t a clue. I suppose outside of Little Fluffy Clouds, most didn’t give The Orb’s early conventional dance tracks as much notice. They were defining other shit, mang!

Beastie Boys - Check Your Head

Capitol Records: 1992

Either the most important Beastie Boys album, or the most forgotten Beastie Boys album, depending on who you ask. Most folks fall into the latter category, and for good reason: Check Your Head generally lacks a variety of things that made their other LPs so memorable. There’s none of the instantly recognizable hits like Fight For Your Right from Licensed To Ill, Sabotage from Ill Communication, or Intergalactic from Hello Nasty. So What’cha Want was the only single that charted, and barely so at that. Hell, for the longest time, I didn’t even realize the track was from this album. For some reason I mistook it for a Paul’s Boutique or Ill Communication cut despite hard evidence to the contrary. Maybe the title’s just been so oft repeated and sampled, I never clued in it was an actual song itself.

Even the scant ’00 albums get more talking points than Check Your Head. Though folks were divided on the merits of To The 5 Boroughs’ throw-back hip-hop, the Beasties were at least praised for sticking to the concept in face of so many changes within their scene. And Hot Sauce Committee… well, that was gonna’ get talked about no matter what. For all intents, the history most know of the Beastie Boys goes like: “GROUNDBREAKING ‘80s! Something with live instruments. The SABOTAGE video! Moar awesome videos from Hello Nasty, with robots and ninjas! Content old geezers doing raps whenever between Buddhism. Aww, man, MCA died? That sucks.” Poor Check Your Head, barely a name check.

Still, this was the first album the Beasties produced themselves, which is note worthy for sure, but doesn’t illicit the same reverent discussion that Rick Rubin on Licensed To Ill or The Dust Brothers on Paul’s Boutique do. Nonetheless, Ad-Rock, MCA, and Mike D returned to playing their own instruments rather than pilfer coffers of records for samples. A good thing too when they did, legalities involving cribbing other people’s music turning incredibly costly in the courts. Time to start making your own beats and riffs, drawing influence of the multitude of funk, punk, jazz-unk, and turntable trickery they grew up around. They must have had these tunes building in their head for some time too, the music tight and fluid throughout. Shame they neglected including the rappity-raps half the time.

That’s the angle most approach Check Your Head from when claiming this their most important album. It marks an evolution of the Beasties from a three-piece white boy posse with witty, hilarious immature lyrics into Serious Musicians. They aren’t so concerned with wordplay as they are with musical interplay, and had yet to really branch out into experimentation as they would in Ill Communication. They still find time for a few back-n-forth cuts (Jimmy James, Pass The Mic, Finger Lickin’ Good, So What’cha Want, Professor Booty), but they’re outliers to all the funk jams throughout Check Your Head. It’s like the boys were all growed up now. Peace out in dub with Namaste.

Sublime - 40oz. To Freedom

Skunk Records/Gasoline Alley Records: 1992/1996

Practically the sole reason we get to hear Smash Mouth covers in kid’s movies now, these guys. Maybe the So-Cal ska scene would have pounded the late ‘90s pop charts regardless, bands like No Doubt and Sugar Ray inevitable. When folks namedrop their (admittedly small) lists of Very Important American Ska Bands though, Sublime is almost always at the top, regional legends that inspired many groups to fuse their own offerings of punk and reggae without a care in the world. By the time wider North America was ready to fully hop on the Sublime paddy-van though, lead singer and guitarist Brad Nowell had sadly succumbed to his struggles with heroin, effectively putting an end to the group. Right as they broke through the mainstream with the single What I Got. Right as the ska scene was set to capitalize as it never had before or since. That takes some serious heart and personal ethics for members Bud Gaugh and Eric Wilson, disbanding the band in respect for their fallen comrade. Besides, they could still make bank on their small back-catalog anyway.

Even though ska was barely an afterthought of popularity in the early ‘90s, it’s easy to hear why Sublime caught on the way they did. The band could effortlessly switch between reggae offshoots and thrash punk, sometimes even within the same song. Throw in nods to hip-hop along the way, and you’ve a sound that’s never pigeon-holed into any specific scene, yet remains appealing to fans of either genre. Sealing it though, was Sublime’s heavy emphasis on detailing all the carefree, irresponsible down-in-the-dumps aspects of lower-class life in Southern California. Wiling the days away getting stoned, getting drunk, hooking up and miserably breaking up, wandering from house party to trailer party to skate park party to gig party, yet all with a sunny disposition as only ska music can provide. These guys may be on the skids, but damn if they don’t sound like it’s a fun time being there. Hell, this debut album of theirs was practically all recorded by breaking into a studio in its off hours, only adding to the reckless living allure many a skater, pothead, and general teenager of the ‘90s gave ‘em.

As a debut, 40oz. To Freedom is an incredibly strong album, giving us a taste of the Sublime stylee in spades. Ska! Reggae! Punk! Hip-Hop! Blues? Koom-baya sing-along’s? Whatever, this was the soundtrack to many a house party across the Western seaboard, steadily gaining popularity as everyone who came within earshot had to get a copy for themselves (and their own house parties), seeing several re-issues along the way. Once MCA picked the band up for wider distribution, a few tracks and samples were removed due to copyright claims, and it became a point of pride if you could boast having an original ’92 version in your hands. Being down with Sublime before anyone knew of them and all. I, ah, don’t have such a copy. I t’was no skater.

Front Line Assembly - Tactical Neural Implant

Third Mind Records/Roadrunner Records: 1992/2007

The only Front Line Assembly album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Front Line Assembly fan. Heck, some make the case Tactical Neural Implant is an essential LP in the industrial scene period, though that's a bit of a stretch. For sure the band that Bill Leeb built grew to be one of the most popular during the early ‘90s, but industrial reaches far with its assortment of Very Important People. At best Front Line Assembly helped lead the charge in the world of EBM, but even they were quick to move onto different explorations of their sound, eager to try something else with each album or side project. That can make for some difficulty in knowing which of the roughly dozen FLA albums is a good starting point, if I hadn't already said the answer is Tactical Neural Implant right at the start of this paragraph.

First off, this is where Leeb and Rhys Fulber really hit their stride as a unit, taking what they’d learned in their first producing outing on Caustic Grip and applying it to some serious songcraft muscle here. Industrial music has always been about manipulating sounds into garish, abrasive attacks on the senses, things like ‘melody’ or ‘earworms’ treated as musical conventions intended for parody. EBM, with its heavy focus on rhythms, lightened a little on such sonic perversions, but was no less cutting in this aesthetic. Tactical Neural Implant, on the other hand, generally sounds cleaner than earlier FLA albums, relying more on grinding, mechanical samples and menacing synths rather than harsh effects to sell its dystopian vision. A good thing too, otherwise the many, surprising melodic moments throughout this album wouldn’t be nearly as effective as musical counterpoints if they were equally muddied and full of murk.

For instance, melodies in songs Remorse and Outcast don’t sound too off from Leeb and Fulber’s Delerium work, to say nothing of melodramatic closer Lifeline. Sample lyrics: “In the shadow, An angel cries;... Innocence confused, By hate.” Part of my brain wants to lambast these words as hokey goth poetry, but damn if Leeb’s bellowing doesn’t get stuck in my head with me eager to hit the replay button.

Still, these are outliers compared to the other songs, where Leeb opts for the snarling EBM sneer (Final Impact, Bio-Mechanic, Outcast, Gun) or fierce industrial growl (Mindphaser). And that’s when you can hear his words at all, some tracks rendering them all but indecipherable with vocoder effects (The Blade). I personally love it when Leeb’s voice morphs though, as in Bio-Mechanic where it grows ever more vicious and robotic in the chorus. Talk of insidious earworms too, Mindphaser the biggest hit Front Line Assembly ever released – heck, they named their website after the song!

Tactical Neural Implant might be a smite too catchy for industrial purists to take seriously, but that just makes it a great entry point for folks looking to cut their teeth on EBM. A tactical neural implant indeed.

Polygon Window - Surfing On Sine Waves

Warp Records: 1992/2000

The only Aphex Twin album you're supposed to have, if you want to have an Aphex Twin album that's not by Aphex Twin. No, the AFX stuff doesn't count, because you can totally tell it's the same guy. Who in their sane mind could tell Polygon Window was also a Richard D. James alias though? Not from a casual glance, no sir, though as soon as you throw this record on the player, it's pretty damn obvious. The main reason it wasn’t billed asan Aphex Twin album is ol’ Rich had yet to settle on a consistent alias, not to mention all the label politicking that went down in those days. His famous moniker was still an Apollo exclusive, he was using ‘Bradley Strider’ on his own Rephlex print, and ain’t no way Ffrreedom was letting go of Power-Pill. Thus, here’s Polygon Window making his debut on Warp Records.

Some state Surfing On Sine Waves as the best LP Mr. Dee James has ever put out. Yes, better than either Selected Ambient Works, better than his self-titled album, and even better than the best Aphex Twin album to come out in the last fifteen years, Syro. What could possibly be on this ancient record that has longtime Aphex fans proclaiming such a thing? Ambient techno, obviously, though some regular UK bleep and acid techno too. Nothing super mind-bending or obtuse for its own sake either - just interesting, intelligent tunes made in the Aphex aesthetic. As Surfing On Sine Waves was released as the second volume of Warp Records’ seminal Artificial Intelligence series (which included both compilations and artist albums), perhaps The Richarded One played nice with the fledgling London label. Or maybe he’d yet to discover his inner brilliant, wanker swagger.

The closest comparison Surfing On Sine Waves comes to the rest of Mr. James’ oeuvre is the first Selected Ambient Works. Hardly surprising since they were released around the same time, but these tracks are definitely more techno than ambient. Audax Powder has a gentle pad melody going for it, then changes gears to a bouncy rave beat. Dot goes for a moody atmosphere in robot Hell, and Quino-Phec is all sorts of dark, calming drone as found on the later volume of SAW. Reissues added Portreath Harbour and Redruth School, both sounding like early SAW session tracks that didn’t make the cut.

Other tracks fear no hardcore rhythm, Supremacy II getting its proper rave on, Quixote doing a techno-trance thing, and the titular opener showing them UK lads could go a little Detroit, should they so choose. Surprisingly, there’s some ‘conventional’ music here too, Quoth bangin’ percolating machine techno, If It Really Is Me rather drab piano techno, and an untitled track toying around with standard acid. Hey, Aphex Twin really is human after all!

At its best, Surfing On Sine Waves is a heavier, if simpler companion to James’ more famous work of the period. Not a must-have, but definitely worth the time invested.

The Shamen - Boss Drum

Epic: 1992

Nope, I still don't get it. Okay, there's songcraft on display with this album, and I cannot deny a few of these tunes getting my head bobble on. Other tracks though, they just sound undercooked, rote rave filler even for the year 1992. I appreciate The Shamen may not have been at the top of their game with Boss Drum, the tragic drowning of bandmate Will Sinnott deflating some of their creative spark. With an LP that turned out as commercially successful as this one did though, I expected more, something richer than a smattering of catchy tunes rounded out with stock UK acid house rhythms. It makes what The Prodigy were up to the same year all the more dynamic, corny chipmunk vocals and all – to say nothing of proper underground acts and burgeoning ‘intelligent techno’ sorts.

But first, how did we get here? What was it that made The Shamen so darned popular that their acid albums could reach platinum sales, urging similar 'indie rock goes rave' acts like Primal Scream, EMF, and Jesus Jones to have a go? Truly it t’was a sign of the times, a youth movement within the UK seldom seen anymore, where sheer scene popularity could propel any act to the top of the charts, radio play be damned. Of course, it didn’t hurt The Shamen were chummy with credible names like Oakenfold, Orbital, and Mixmaster Morris, very soon getting plenty other up-and-coming cool producers in on their singles for remix action. They may have had the chart success, but kept a foot in the warehouse parties and illegal raves just the same. Then it all went tits up, the group becoming too successful with obvious chart chasers while the second Summer Of Love ground to a sudden and crushing halt. Almost overnight, The Shamen came off a relic of an innocent time, where silly tunes like Ebeneezer Goode could pass off as convincing. No, time for rave music to get serious, dark, gritty, and strictly for the underground.

Its remarkable how much of a flash-point Boss Drum comes off like now, the last big hurrah of UK acid house. There’s still a pile of chipper, lovey-dovey feel good vibes oozing from tracks like Space Time, Phorever People, and chill-out cut Scientas, as though The Shamen believed the party would never end. On the other hand, tracks like goofball ragga-house Comin’ On and throwback rave cut Livrae Solidi Denari (I see what you did there, har har) suggest they were running thin on fresh ideas too. Also, I can’t decide if Re:Evolution is brilliant on the production front (that slow build!), or utterly naff due to Terence McKenna’s ongoing hippie-drippy monologue.

One thing I must give The Shamen credit for though is the titular cut of Boss Drum, one of the earliest examples of the emergent dark, chugging genre of progressive house. Not that I figure they intended it to be held up with the likes of Leftfield, but props for that, eh?