The Black Dog - Temple Of Transparent Balls

General Production Recordings/Soma Quality Recordings: 1993/2007

Though not as critically acclaimed as The Black Dog's contributions to Warp Records, their debut album on lesser-known General Production Recordings was no less highly sought after. Because when you develop a cult-like following of fans based on scene respect, multiple aliases, rotating members, and a significant gap of new material, every item in your discography becomes essential. It don't matter whether it's a seminal EP, or a wack dalliance collab', some records you will hunt and commit top dollar for. Or just wait for a friendly future label to re-issue the obscure stuff for a new audience. Patience will always be a virtue, always.

So it is with Temple Of Transparent Balls, the official first album from The Black Dog. Technically, Ken Downie, Andy Turner, and Ed Handley had an LP out just prior to this one on Warp, though Bytes was more a compilation featuring their other projects and aliases (Plaid, Xeper, Balil, others), thus presented as Black Dog Productions. That whole ‘currently being signed to General Production Recordings’ fact may have had something to do with it too. Give some credit to the front-runner for ‘Most Generically Named Music Label’ though, taking a chance on the trio as a kick-off act, and rescuing The Black Dog out of self-release purgatory.

If the Warp association and Plaid lineage didn’t clue you in yet, Temple Of Transparent Balls is way old-school UK techno - finding its way out of bleep rave of before, yet not quite there with IDM of af’aire (?). There’s quite a bit of adventurous music making going on in this CD, though a good deal of familiarity too, the opening salvo of Cost I and Cost II a prime example. The first features a lone, spritely arp doodling along for four out of the track’s five minutes, finally joined in by a bouncy electro beat. Meanwhile, Cost II has all my Higher Intelligence Agency triggers flashing, which isn’t a bad thing, but does send me into double-take mode. For the most part, Temple Of Transparent Balls plays half-and-half with the experimental and traditional techno, alternating between the two throughout. As can be expected of an act still in their early years, the traditional stuff is mint, but the attempts at leftfield techno definitely needed some refinement.

Thus you get cool tunes like brisk, beatless 4, 7, 8, Detroit breakbeat of Jupiler (not a typo... maybe), acid funk of Sharp Shooting On Saturn, peppy jazz-fusion of Mango, and Aphex ambient techno of In the Light Of Grey. Elsewhere, there’s muddled space tachyon techno in The Actor And Audience, droning cyber-mamba Kings Of Sparta, and dull, mind-numbing grit-techno in Cycle (at over seven minutes, the longest track too, unfortunately). These have interesting ideas, but lack finesse in arrangement or choice of sounds.

Nay, the only truly enjoyable oddball track is The Crete That Crete Made, a lazy, hazy jaunt with dubbed-out organs and warm pads. It’s like getting stoned at a seaside Renaissance fair.

Culture Beat - Serenity

Dance Pool: 1993

Serenity is one of the classic albums of euro-dance, with one of the all time biggest hits of the era in Mr. Vain. Oddly, its fame has diminished in recent years, trendy remixes and rehash efforts going to other hits from back in the day. A peruse of Lord Discogs reveals barely an update of the ‘90s’ club staple, the Abfarht team simply letting the tune fade from public consciousness (CJ Stone remix doesn’t count because… yeah). On one hand, I admire forgoing quick, cheap cash-ins with their back catalogue, but surely Culture Beat’s legacy deserves more than a mere afterthought two decades on. They were right up there with 2 Unlimited and Snap! at one time, so what happened?

The unfortunate death of Torsten Fenslau, sadly - the Abfarht team never recovered from his loss. Until then though, he, Nosie Katzmann, Peter Zweir, and various others were on an unprecedented run of ace euro singles, expertly straddling the line between crossover dance and underground trance long before a pile of Dutchmen tried pulling the same trick. In some ways, Serenity was their peak, a successful album from front to back in a scene where most acts were only good for a hit single or two. Yes, I did just claim a euro-dance LP solid all the way through – come, let me show you the ways.

First off, Mr. Vain. Damn, but this was the anthem of ’93. It hits you with an impossibly catchy, buzzy euro synth riffs, a remarkably heavy rhythm, and a perfect sing-along chorus provided by newcomer vocalist Tania Evans (one Lana E. had the duties in the original line-up). Meanwhile, Jay Supreme, seldom that notable of a rapper, gives memorable lyrics, playing up the gaudy clubber lifestyle with just enough charm to sell the idea of a Mr. Vain in your presence. I’ve no doubt you could still play this single today and it’d get just as strong a reaction as when it was new. Dare it, festival DJs!

Even with the juggernaut that Mr. Vain is though, Serenity is hardly a one-hit euro album. Follow-ups Got To Get It and Anything, higher paced Rocket To The Moon, the pure trance-out of the titular cut, an epic Rollo tune with Mother Earth (environmental message!), and dreamy house anthems The Other Side Of Me and The Hurt are all solid tunes, and could easily have been the lone-hits for any number of the Abfarht team’s other projects. Elsewhere, the requisite downtempo tracks (World In Your Hands, Key To Your Heart) eschew any attempt at sappy balladry, instead cribbing from the Soul II Soul template of groovy urban music. About the only duff track on here is Adelante!, a drab slice of Italian-flavored euro, likely intended for that market and nothing else.

Convinced? Don’t front, I know you’re itching to hear Serenity in full now. Forget that Night At The Roxberry soundtrack, this album captures early ‘90s euro at its absolute best!

Sequential - Sequential

Fax +49-69/450464/Ambient World: 1993/2008

Before he established his own label and started collaborating with everyone that happened by his studio, Pete Namlook released a few records on other labels with a couple other collaborators that weren't always in his studio [citation needed]. Among these earliest efforts was Sequential with Christian Thier, getting their start on Pod Communication before making the permanent move to Fax +49-69/450464 (yep, we're dealing with trance-era Namlook here). It was also a short-lived partnership, existing for only a couple years before ol’ Pete found himself a pile of new friends to work with. Poor DJ Criss, forever relegated to a footnote in the Fax+ legacy. Deltraxx needs more love, yo’.

As with many lesser-known projects from Namlook, it was well over a decade before Ambient World offered up a re-issue of the self-titled Sequential album. Perhaps they didn’t feel it necessary to rush it, some of the better known tunes from the project’s five-EP run having found homes on various Rising High Records compilations. Yet those are super-old now too, only available at obscene collectors price- well no, a cruise of the Discogs Marketplace finds several of them going for less than a fiver, which is just nutty when compared to the money requested of the original vinyls. Limited runs, get ya’ every time.

It’s kinda’ funny seeing this album on Ambient World, since only a handful of tracks off here are ambient. How did that sub-label go about selecting which old Fax+ release needed a re-issue anyway? Just witling down Namlook’s entire back catalogue until nothing remained? Not that I’m complaining, quite thrilled at having vintage classic trance in my collection, but it’s very odd seeing such a release existing in the year of 2008.

Despite Namlook not being much known for trance, there are a few minor hits of the era on this CD. Starry-eyed tribal Everything Is Under Control and its ambient B-side Duane Sky I’ve mentioned before, both on previous Rising High collections. Another winner here is X-Ray Delta One, a pure spaced-out offering of hard trance with a cosmic bit of squelching acid in the latter portions, coming off like one of the early links to goa trance. On the more subdued end of the trance spectrum is Saturn Cruises, all subtle groove, burbling acid, and floating synth pad work for eleven-plus minutes of hypnotic bliss; the additional Tetsu Inoue touch on this one can definitely be felt. A couple more standard early trance cuts in Sequential and A Trip To Paradise wraps up that genre on this album, while oceanic adventuring 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea goes for an ambient techno vibe of moody atmospherics and soft rhythms.

Speaking of ambient offerings, this LP also provides a medley of the remaining Sequential ambient B-sides titled Ambient Block. It includes the droning space pad work of Sequenchill, bleak soundscape of Lost In The Sea, and a sludgy EBM go at Mission Control #2. No bonus points for guessing their A-side counterparts.

Various - Radikal Techno - Too Radikal (Original TC Review)

Quality Music: 1993

(2015 Update:
I still can't believe this CD turned up as a Random Review less than a year after I wrote about the first Radikal Techno. Makes me wonder, had I stuck to doing occasional reviews by random selection, would the third, fourth, or even multi-CD box set have come up. Not sure how that'd be possible, as I only have two Radikal Technos, but those Digital Disc Imps, they're a tricky bunch. Always moving your music out of place, somehow shuffling CDs out of sight even as you diligently scan spine by spine looking for that one album you just gotta' pull out to show off to house guests. Ahem, what I mean is, I wouldn't put it past those Imps to add something too. For reals, where'd this dusty garage rock demo suddenly come from?

You know what else surprised me? Discovering Radikal Records is still in operation, now a full-on festival house and brostep outlet. Wait, that's not surprising at all, the label's choice in music output always skewing towards the commercially friendly side of the dancefloor - of course they'd jump on the latest hot bandwagon. Still, maybe they should have rebranded their name as well. Calling yourself 'radikal' is just too damn '90s, man.)

IN BRIEF: Not as good as the first.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Yes, I know I have a fair deal of old dance CDs in my music collection, but it can’t make up more than 5% of everything I own. Yet, these Random Reviews have seen an inordinate amount of them crop up. Club Europa, The Movement, Scooter’s Age Of Love, Maxx’ No More, Snap!’s Welcome To Tomorrow, the first Radikal Techno… What’s next, Euro Dance Pool, Club Cutz, or Ice MC’s album? (2015 note: it came true! …kinda’) Why can’t I ever pull one of my many Moonshine Records discs? A classic trance compilation? Hell, even a Turbo Recordings choice again – I haven’t picked one since the very first Random. I suppose the good news here is that I have to eventually run out of these.

I’ll be honest with you. The trouble is, unlike the first Radikal Techno, there isn’t much to say about Too Radikal. The first one had enough quirky things about it that the compilation actually makes for an interesting Random: remixes that are rather rare, well-known producers cutting their teeth with early works, plus a scrappy attitude that went part-and-parcel with the ’92 rave scene. The sequel, however, lacks any of this. If anything, Too Radikal shows how, within a year, the commercial dance business had cleaned itself up from its grubby rave days and present itself with a far more slick sheen that would go on to define euro dance of the mid-‘90s. Even the cover, despite the somewhat goa attributes, comes across squeaky clean in comparison.

Fourteen tracks are to be had here, but nearly all of them could also easily be had on several other compilations, making this far from unique or necessary. The music, for the most part though, isn’t bad. Mostly, you have ‘underground’ versions of big euro-hits, which is just another way of saying trancey mixes. A few cuts have held up remarkably well: Te Quiero’s almost-psy leanings is still an infectious tune; with moody acid burbling about, Joey Beltram’s Old School Dub Mix of Open Your Mind is quite good, if somewhat simplistic; and the Abfarht team struck gold once again with Wanna Feel The Music as Public Art. Meanwhile, euro dance fluff from A.B. Free (who’d go on to bigger things as DJ Company), Apotheosis (completely abandoning their original rave sound), Afrika Bambaata (yes, that Bambaata, now hanging out with Italian producers for some reason), Dance 2 Trance, Love 4 Sale, and Ramirez are all agreeable, though dated. For instance, the backing pads in Do You Feel So Right are pure trance bliss, but the rest of the track is quite muffled; Go Deeper’s production is so hilariously flat, you’d think it was an ‘80s tune; and what the hell is with those chicken noises in El Gallinero?

On the other hand, little holds up in the offerings from R.T.Z., 2 Unlimited, Deadly Sins, and Mars Plastic, coming off like knock-offs of better productions of the time. In The Name Of Love has some decent beats, but that looping hook will quickly irritate; We Are Going On Down is silly with those rollercoaster samples and ‘whooaAAAAooohhh’ chants; not the best version of No Limit here; Find The Way is generic garage house from that time. Oh, and then there’s the hopelessly corny It’s A Feeling, which rips off the marching rhythms of The Good Men’s Give It Up, and throws in sappy happy hardcore sentiments. I cringed with this one even back in the day.

Y’ah, see how fast I wrapped this one up? There’s just not much else to talk about here. I suppose you could be wondering why I’d even still have a compilation like Too Radikal if it’s this generic. Well, I have to admit there are quite a few personally nostalgic reasons. If the first Radikal Techno was my second CD, this was something like my fifth, so obviously I’d end up replaying it often. I certainly do have amusing memories of Te Quiero (oh my god, that woman’s having an orgasm!) and We Are Going On Down (are they saying ‘funky town’ or ‘fucking town’?); and although there really isn’t much on here that’d be true-blue trance, there was enough trancey attributes here to undoubtedly make an influence on my early music tastes (even if I wouldn’t take the full proper plunge for another couple years down the road).

I dunno. If you see this around and don’t have any of these tracks… ah, you might still be better off just downloading the good ones. Like I said, this isn’t a bad compilation, just really unnecessary to have. Do what you like if you see it lying in a used shop.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2009. All rights reserved.

Psykosonik - Psykosonik

Wax Trax! Records: 1993

Dammit, modern electronic music is so confusing. Everyone’s mixing and mashing genres into incomprehensible collages, and don’t get me started on the gratuitous mislabeling going on at retail outlets. Why can’t things be like it was back in the day, where divisions were clear and music tidily organized into distinct, identifiable traits? All you had to do was drop into the shop, and see your preferences in the designated ‘Techno’ section, or ‘House’ bin, or ‘Industrial’ shelf wedged between the ‘Metal’ racks and ‘Dance’ corner. Sure, there’d be a few odd mix-ups – like finding ICE MC and B.G. The Prince Of Rap in the ‘Hip-Hop’ bunker – but by and large, if I bought a techno album, I knew it was a techno album.

Like this Psykosonik album, titled Psykosonik. Hear those punchy hoover riffs and rave rhythms? That’s totally old school techno – specifically of the Belgian variant, but techno just the same. Except… what’s it doing on TVT Records? After the smash success of Nine Inch Nails’ Pretty Hate Machine, the label started gobbling up all sorts of industrial acts: KMFDM, Sister Machine Gun, Coil, Ministry, Front 242, Cyberaktif, to name a few. True, some came part of their Wax Trax! Records purchase, but TVT had successfully rebranded itself as an industrial force, and a goofy rave outfit just wouldn’t fit with them.

Just as well, then, that Psykosonik is industrial as well. There’s snarling singing and crunchy guitar licks to go with the rave riffs, with topics of cyberpunk (Welcome To My Mind, Silicon Jesus), anti-fascism (Teknojihad, Down On The Ground, I Am God), and fetishism (Shock On The Wire, Acid Hammer) covered throughout. This was almost solely the domain of industrial – or its clubbier off-shoot, EBM – in the early ‘90s, ravey techno far more interested in simply ‘avin’ it for all-nighters. The act of political righteousness was in the participation of the party alone, with no need for clumsy things like lyrics getting in the way.

But wait, there’s more! The hooks on some of these tracks, hot damn are they ever catchy - like, The Shamen or The Prodigy catchy! Unfortunately, Psykosonik came out in 1993, which was a bit late in finding a foot in the UK charts as a rave, industrial Belgian Beat something-or-other act. Had this come out just a couple years earlier though, I could see tracks like Welcome To My Mind or Teknojihad making a dent there.

So what exactly is this album then? It’s like a manbearpig of early ‘90s ‘techno’: half Belgian rave, half EBM industrial, and half chart-hitting dance (even if the songs never did much damage in that area). And no, this doesn’t mean it’s a third of each - Psykosonik honestly sounds like three halves, where you only hear two of each, depending on the perspective you approach it with. You know what it’s one-hundred percent of though? Awesome! *crickets chirp* *uncomfortable cough*

Seriously though, if you like early ‘90s rave, Psykonsonik’s self-titled debut’s good fun. Teknojihad!

Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia - Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1

Restless Records: 1993/1994

Ask any disciple of the Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia what the group's lasting legacy is, and you'll often get an answer of 'tribal techno'. Not just any ol' tribalism either, but the most seductive, entrancing rhythms you'll come across, produced at a time when techno felt safer in warehouses or clubs rather than outdoor gatherings. And though the collective could go a little house, ambient, or dub on occasion, it was never in sacrifice of their fascination with all things rhythmic and primal. So you'd think an EP centred entirely on the very thing PWOG are known for would be an easy sell, and you'd be right. How can you not be intrigued by Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1 on its very premise alone? Well, provided you're intrigued by the group to start with.

And if you are intrigued but have yet to take a hit, heed my advice: don’t start with this EP! I mean, I’ve already reviewed the one you should check out first, Ov Biospheres And Sacred Grooves. True, that’s an LP, but even if we stick to EPs, there’s Obsidian, Kraak, Exit 23, or Maenad for your consideration before Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1 (note: there never was a Vol. 2, at least according to Lord Discogs). Hell, even PWOG know this isn’t a starter’s set, writing the following disclaimer as part of the package: “Warning! This object has nothing to do with art or artificial intelligence. This double package (12” version) was designed for mixing, for breaks, for possession, for collectors. Dedicated to the patient and possessed.” Right, so they’re typically obtuse about it, but their point is clear – only the DJs or die-hards need apply.

Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1 is a six track EP, and boy is it ever tracky, even for techno. It sounds like they used no more than a half-dozen percussion samples, with everything fed through a touch of distortion. This gives each cut a cool gritty aesthetic, as though it was meant only to be heard in the dusty outdoors – in other words, not exactly created with home listening in mind. Furthering this notion is the absolute lack of melody whatsoever. Nada. Zilch. What, that woodblock plonk is the hook? Dude, it’s a single tone, like any hi-hat or snare in these tracks. It’s percussion like everything else. Except the simple bit of acid in Pull, that’s not percussion. I guess there’s a little choppy bit of vocal sample in Psoudoun too. Ooh, and that bassline in Ensnared has more groove to it than all the tribal drum business we’re dealing with. There’s also a weird ambient sound in Push, like someone running a rod over blocks rather than striking them. Still not a melody though.

Psychick Rythms Vol. 1 is repetitive as all Hell – one track isn’t much different from another - but as with so much about these Warriors Ov Gaia, there’s an undeniable hypnotic charm to it. Use them as tools, use them in harmony. Use them in peace.

Kenji Kawai - 2002 Patlabor 2: The Movie "Sound Renewal"

Vap: 1993/2002

I indulge in anime every so often, but am nowhere near otaku levels (ignore that one year marathon in my early twenties, ne?), and definitely not to such a degree I'll snatch up soundtracks. Oh, there’s plenty of stunning works available should you go digging around, but I’m at best a casual watcher. Why, then, do I have the score to Patlabor 2, an anime that, while not hopelessly obscure, seldom comes up in discussion, especially musically. It's certainly no Macross, Cowboy Bebop, or [insert modern classic Sykonee should be checking out]. Heck, it's not even a Ghost In The Shell, the movie director Mamoru Oshii and composer Kenji Kawai worked on right after this one. In some ways though, Patlabor 2 is a conceptual precursor to their work on that flick. To get into those details, however, would utterly derail this review, and I’m here to talk music, not anime - you’ll have to find another site for that (I recommend Anime Abandon by Bennett “The Sage”, should he ever get around to reviewing Patlabor).

While Oshii’s gone down as one of anime’s most influential directors, it’s his partnership with Kawai that helped solidify his legacy. They share a film-making synergy similar to the likes of Burton and Elfman, in that you can’t help but think of the two in unison despite occasionally doing projects without the other’s input. Kawai’s also incredibly diverse when called upon, even within the Patlabor pantheon of movies, OVAs, and TV series. Peppy j-pop, traditional Japanese orchestral, and future-shock industrial, he finds ways molding his music as needed to fit the situation, and as Patlabor 2’s all about political intrigue and philosophical quandary in a near-future mecha-milieu, you bet we get ample amounts of the latter styles on this score.

As Oshii often makes use of montages in this movie (at least, when characters aren’t discussing the meaning of existence, or something), the music had to match the imagery in narrative drive. Thus, Asia’s slow tribal rhythm and ominous strings build upon the growing sense of unease as martial law is instilled upon Tokyo; ...with Love’s gentle pianos and pads contrast with harsh, tentative synths as Nagumo questions her allegiance between her duty and her heart; ”IXTL” trudges along a slow EBM beat and soft falsetto choir, far from the sort of music you’d expect from an action climax, but keeping in tone with the minimalist direction Oshii went with. Wait, when did this turn into a movie review too?

All well and good, but the piece I ultimately bought this soundtrack for was Unnatural City. A recurring motif throughout the movie (there’s three variations), it’s a simple bit of music, haunting discordant pads casting feelings of contemplation and doubt upon the scenes it plays. The easy comparisons are Eno and Glass, but Kawai injects just enough traditional instrumentation underneath to make this sound wholly his own. It’s also perfect for late nights when you find yourself staring out at city lights.

TUU - One Thousand Years (Original TC Review)

SDV Tonträger/Waveform Records: 1993/2001

(2014 Update:
Talk about redundant opening paragraphs. Yeah, it was important establishing what sort of borders we'd set for ourselves at TranceCritic, but as is abundantly clear at this blog, I care not a lick about staying within the lines. I suppose it makes calling this place 'Electronic Music Critic' disingenuous on my part, but it was the title I picked long ago, a logical evolution from the old website. Besides, despite my occasional dalliances into rock or other, I've kept things mostly on an electronic tip (yes, I'm including hip-hop in that now too).

Some additional information here that I neglected before. One Thousand Years was in fact TUU's first album, self-released on their own label before joining up with Beyond/Waveform. I always thought this came out shortly after All Our Ancestors. Lord Discogs led me astray! It makes sense though, the music here more minimalistic compared to their other material. Still really neat stuff though, if you're into atmospheric ambient as conceived by cultures from the before times, the long, long ago.)


IN BRIEF: The Ancients beckon.

For an electronic music review website, we here at TranceCritic sure tend to overreach the boundaries you’d expect of the genre. Not so much the producers who’ll take traditional instruments and fuse them with techno beats - that’s common. And not even old rock songs given the ol’ dance make-over. No, I’m talking about acts that are known for other music but may dabble in synths on a whim.

While it’s fine and dandy that we don’t restrict ourselves to a narrow field of music, it does cause a slight problem: how far can we push it before what we’re reviewing no longer fits typical electronic productions? If an experimental new wave album from Neil Young is allowed, then should all new wave and synthpop acts be given the same attention? And what about hip-hop? The Godfather has been invited, so shouldn’t the rest of that branch be allowed, especially since that music is technically more electronic than Primal Scream’s?

This is a big can of worms we flirt with on occasion but always within reason. We don’t just cover electronic music, but also the culture that comes with the package. The clubs, the outdoor parties, the chill rooms, the gear heads, the trainspotters, the DJs, the warehouses, and even the stadiums. As splintered as many EDM scenes became over the years, they still all more or less encompass the same ideals, which distinguishes it from other music scenes. Some intermixing does occur but this is primarily the reason genres are often separated the way they are in music stores.

This reads like a big disclaimer, doesn’t it. That’s because this album you’ve clicked to read a review on fits into the ‘not-quite-pure-electronic-music’ category. Might as well explain myself for once again straying from the beaten path, eh?

So, who exactly is TUU? This is a group comprised of Martin Franklin, Richard Clare and Mykl O’Dempsey, with other assorted guest contributors. During the ‘90s they made a few ambient albums together before disbanding to pursue other interests. Their sound was rather unique when compared to typical ambient offerings of the era, in that it often conjured up images of ancient exotic tribal clans gathered in a meditative circle, which probably wasn’t too far off in the audience they’d play for. The reason for their effectiveness lies in the instruments they use. Martin played the percussion, usually gentle beats on clay pots, small gongs, and other simple forms. Meanwhile, Richard’s use of soft woodwinds gave their songs warm melodies. And providing the atmosphere would be Mykl, using an assortment of synths.

As you can see, two-thirds of TUU doesn’t rely on anything electronic to produce their music, and Mykl’s use of synths are dressing for the tracks. In some instances, his contribution does lead, but Richard and Martin are usually the main focus. It begs the question then just how much of an electronic album One Thousand Years is, and if it should even be covered. Oh, foolish you be should you think such things. Yes, TUU do sound more organic than electronic, but this is still ambient music in the truest sense. Although easily playable in any environment, and even somewhat co-opted by New Age folks, ambient has largely remained within the domain of the electronic faithful.

I suppose you are wondering if I’ll ever get around to the particulars of One Thousand Years. That, I’m afraid, is tricky. This is ambient, after all, and detailing tracks is rather futile in that the music doesn’t follow any conventional form. TUU enjoy feeling their way through their songs, often times dwelling on the long vibration of a gong beat or a drawn out flute note while an eerie or calming synth smoothly slides in the background. Generally, a song’s elements will come into focus early on, with the trio improvising with each other for the course; a tribal rhythm or chant may crop up to add a little variety but not often.

As for their tone, TUU tend to remain melancholy, even at times mournful. I mentioned earlier at how their music can make one think of ancient tribes, but the trio also displays a touch of lament over our loss of the simple innocence that came with those cultures. A few tracks contain some cheerier moments - the spritely flutes in Pan America or the glowing synths in High Places, for instance - but the general feel is sorrowful and reflective. Like most ambient, the music on One Thousand Years works perfectly fine playing in the background. But should you sit down, ignore all that is around you, and just listen to what’s coming from your speakers, TUU’s work takes on a meditative quality where you’ll find yourself becoming lost within your own thoughts.

Although One Thousand Years is technically over a decade old (Waveform re-issued the album for American distribution - apparently the original European version is quite rare at this point) it hardly shows its age. Of course, this is partly for the fact TUU’s sound already has an ancient feel to it, but the production quality is top-notch as well, with each member’s contribution sounding clear and concise with plenty of room to breathe. While I wouldn’t consider this an essential purchase for fans of this sort of music, if you like your ambient quiet, contemplative, and tribal, then One Thousand Years is worth your attention.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved

The Prodigy - One Love

XL Recordings: 1993

Wow, October's turning into “Transitional Album/EP” month, isn't it. Aphex Twin's On marked a transition in his sound, Neil Young's On The Beach found him transitioning into the thematic ditch, One + One saw Zabiela and Fanciulli attempt a transition into a superstar DJ duo, and One A.D. was the start of my transition into underground electronic chill-out. Yeah, I'm stretching, but here we are with The Prodigy's One Love, their first single following the post-Experience afterglow/backlash, and a sign of things to come for Howlett's group of rave hoodlums.

Ol' Liam knew he had to change things up, was practically forced into it if he wanted any credibility retained. Jettisoning all the goofy chipmunk vocals and novelty children samples was a good start, but could he do more in getting that critical respect back? Well, there was that whole “ethnic sampling” thing going on in trendy genres like progressive house and downtempo dub music. Surely it'd be simple enough to dump one overtop another thumping rave anthem, and watch the plaudits come barrelling in. Oh, and make sure to use some cutting edge 3D computer animation for the video, since everyone's praising The Future Sound Of London for doing the same. Instant success, amirite?

Well, maybe not, folks and Mixmag pundits eternally bitter over Charly. Just to test the waters, Howlett released One Love as a white label and under the pseudonym Earthbound. It proved to be a success, the single quickly becoming a favourite with underground rave DJs. Imagine their surprise when it was revealed the same guy they’d slated was responsible for their new anthem. Damn, that’d be like Skrillex releasing jungle without anyone realizing.

As for One Love, it’s got peppy organ stabs, didgeridoos, and a chant borrowed from Magi & Emanation’s Everybody Say Love (whom Howlett remixed). It’s also ridiculously dated sounding, especially compared to the music that would end up on Music For The Jilted Generation. Really, the history behind its release is far more interesting than the end result, especially compared to the other tracks on the single. Full Throttle’s fierce attack, which also ended up on the album in a slightly edited form (where’s Luke Skywalker, mang?), was more indicative of where The Prodigy were headed while retaining the tribal rhythms Howlett seemed set on utilizing.

All well and good, but let’s face it: the better ‘transition’ track found on this single is Rhythm Of Life. It’s got a pile of old school tropes, including the overused Native yelps that were oh-so tired by 1993. This is one nasty piece of rave business though, Howlett giving us a taste of the techno thrash that’d he’d make his distinctive sound. By comparison, the trancey-techno Johnny L Remix of One Love comes off unremarkable and bland. Why you no jungle the track up, Johnny?

Whatever. Get this single for Rhythm Of Life, and nothing else. One Love was a worthy step for Howlett, but a dead-end style of music where The Prodigy’s legacy’s concerned.

Aphex Twin - On

Warp Records/Sire: 1993/1994

Did you know there’s a new Aphex Twin album? Of course you do, because no one will shut up about the new Aphex Twin album. It’s such a novelty, a new Aphex Twin album being available, one that a new generation of electronic music lovers finally understanding the thrill of. Okay, new Aphex Twin albums weren’t as big a deal back in the day, because they weren’t so infrequent, you see. Anyhow, let’s forget about Syro for now, because I won’t get to talk about it until, oh, spring (I’ve a lot of albums with ‘S’ in the title). Let’s instead jump into Aphex Twin’s debut on Warp Records, the single On.

Truthfully, this wasn’t Richard D. James’ first appearance on the seminal label, having put out an album with them as Polygon Window the year before. The Aphex Twin moniker had bigger clout though, and I’m sure Warp believed they’d scored a winner in signing Mr. D. James to a long-term multi-album deal (that he’s still yet to complete, apparently). Maybe as a means of distancing the Aphex sound from its Apollo origins, On features quite a radical change of sound compared to prior works, many pointing to this EP as where ‘drill-n-bass’ got its beginnings.

Fun fact: On was one of the first Aphex Twin songs I ever heard. The other was Donkey Rhubarb, both appearing on ‘ambient’ compilations. I couldn’t understand why. Sure, Aphex Twin was some ambient-God at the time, his name always coming up in mid-‘90s Best Of lists, but if these tunes were indicative of Aphex ambient, then I clearly had a totally off idea of what ambient was. Right, On starts with a charming bell melody, soon joined by the crackling of thunder and rainfall. It’s brisk, but still in line with ambient’s calming tend- oh my God, what’s with that …kick? Bass? What even is that sound? And why are the hi-hats so sharp and piercing? This song makes no sense being on a CD titled Ambient Auras, no sense at all.

Of course, senselessness is part of Aphex Twin’s charm, and despite the bizarre rhythm, On remains a lovely little tune in his discography. In stark contrast, the drilling acid beats of 73-yips is great for pissing your neighbors off (and inspired a zillion copycat wonks in the process). Meanwhile, Xepha hints at the creepy-weird discordant-dream ambience that would encompass Selected Ambient Works 2, except with drill-kicks bouncing about like rubber demonites - it makes sense when you hear it, trust me. The American copy of On jettisoned D-scape in favor of the Reload Mix, a chipper ambient techno rub by the Global Communication chaps that ends the EP on a light note, but isn’t as interesting as Aphex’s material.

It’s academic whether you should get on, erm, On, if you haven’t already. Since it’s a career-transitional EP, it’s one of Aphex Twin’s more unique items. That’s saying something, considering the various musically obtuse paths he’s taken over the years.

Souls Of Mischief - 93 'Til Infinity (20th Anniversary Edition)

Jive/Get On Down: 1993/2014

Damn, son, this ‘Deluxe Edition’ of Souls Of Mischief's 93 'Til Infinity ain't kidding about its deluxivenss. Packaged in a spiffy booklet, bundled with two CDs, including exhaustive liner notes and a lengthy essay detailing not only the making of this album, but nearly all the Hieroglyphics history to boot, it’s got everything covered. Then they went an extra mile by having a gatefold play a portion of the titular cut like a tinny music card. I've never seen one of those for a CD. Why hasn't Wu-Tang Clan's Enter The 36 Chambers ever gotten similar anniversary treatment? It was released the same year as 93 'Til Infinity, and that was a far bigger album than this one.

Talk to any discerning hip-hop head though, and they’ll point to this Oakland crew as equally worthy of critical praise. Can't say it's a fair comparison, considering the radically different career paths taken since their debuts - Wu-Tang became commercial juggernauts, while Souls Of Mischief (and the rest of Hieroglyphics) floundered in the underground as the '90s played out. Okay, 'floundered' is harsh, but when you drop an album as hot as 93 'Til Infinity, a long prosperous career should have been in the bag. Still, they maintained that all-important 'respect' thing hip-hop acts of all walks of the streets crave.

If you don’t know, Souls Of Mischief are A-Plus, Phesto, Opio, and Tajai of Hieroglyphics, the West Coast hip-hop crew that includes Del Tha Funkee Homosapien (I’ve mentioned him once or thrice). They appeared in namedrops on Del’s debut, and thanks to having Ice Cube’s blessing, the extended Hiero members got their chance to shine here - not a second’s wasted on their part. Whether taking lesser MCs to task in battle raps (Let ‘Em Know, That’s When Ya Lost, Never No More, Limitations, Make Your Mind Up), delivering cautionary street tales (Anything Can Happen, What A Way To Go Out ...dear God, this one’s nasty!), or getting a little ‘conscious’ about their future (Tell Me Who Profits, the titular cut), this album’s filled with insanely dense and vivid lyricism. And they’re not bashful in showing off their spittin’ swagger either, mixing in multi-syllable words with razor-sharp punch lines. Gander at this bit from Opio: “Eruptions, and rusting, when I'm thrusting, cuts men; Into microscopic particles, molecules, atoms; Attack 'em, hack 'em, never slow, never slack; I'm invincible...” Hell, I could post the whole verse, but self-limiting word-count forbids.

Then there’s all the ace beats, raiding plenty jazzy loops and samples that’d have DJ Premier turning his head, yet filtered into a stoned-out West Coast vibe. Honestly, it’s almost textbook ‘underground hip-hop’ production, but then Hieroglyphics helped popularize the sound in the first place.

CD2 has remixes and instrumentals, which only hardcore fans would care about. I’d stick with the original version of 93 ‘Til Infinity if you’re interested in taking the plunge, which I fully encourage. You’ll definitely wonder why you slept on this album so long after. *cough*

Chris Korda - Demons In My Head

Kevorkian Records: 1993

There's something wrong with Chris Korda's outlook on the world. No, not the cross-dressing thing – he's actually kind of good at it. No, not that whole Church Of Euthanasia thing either – I cannot deny there is some practical logic in this promotion of overpopulation prevention, tongue-in-cheek though this outlet may be. And no, his totally provocative approach to music making is hardly the stuff of oddness – performance art, t'is, and all that rot. No, what strikes me peculiar about Chris Korda is his relative reluctance at music making. Maybe he simply doesn't make time for it, or maybe he's an act some find too controversial to sign. Pft, as if. DJ Hell had enough gumption to give the Church Of Euthanasia an outlet during International Deejay Gigolo’s rise to fame, so Mr/s Korda couldn't be all that bad. Lord Discogs tells me he's been silent on the music front since the early '00s though, and if I can't trust the Lord That Knows All, where can I go to find out more? Oh yeah, that website.

Anyhow, Korda's debut LP Demons In My Head came out a number of years before the chap/gal got chummy with Hell, self-releasing it on the appropriately titled own-label Kevorkian Records. It's also a forty-five minute long, single-track album. Yay, noodly ambient drone, with industrial abrasiveness I bet.

Not at all, though there are sonically confrontational segments throughout. Truth be told, I was a bit hesitant going into this one, figuring this would end up being some Hellraiser-level dark ambient assaulting my sanity, but Demons In My Head seldom goes down those roads. Some thirty-five minutes in, a bit of reverse chanting coupled with a gargling deadite wail crops up, and that’s about as outright creepy as things get. So, something out of a Tool interlude, then?

Before we get there though, we have industrial clanking, hydraulics pumping, bleepy sci-fi dithering, children playing (ah, ol’ Chrissy was at the county fair at some point), reflective ambient tones, meditative New Age melodies, water running, water raining, water spilling, water pumping, water flushing, and water swirling in pools. Yeah, there’s a lot of water sound effects in Demons In My Head. Maybe Vodyanoi took up residence in Korda’s noggin. Oh, and he finishes off with your standard industrial noise assault. Haha, madness overtook him! Time to form a church with a bizarre concept.

What’s frustrating about this LP is it could have been indexed into individual tracks, as there are distinct sections and passages. True, listening to it in its entirety rather than selectable chunks forces you to take Korda’s narrative as a whole, and dark ambient always works best in this context. Still, if a story has a clear sequence of events as Demons In My Head does, why not clarify them with titled ‘chapters’? It only enriches the musical tale. Erm, when there’s actual music going on, that is. Ah well, at least there’s definite structure and flow here, more so than I was expecting.

Naughty By Nature - 19 Naughty III

ISBA Music Entertainment Inc.: 1993

Yo! This is Hip-Hop Sykonee, comin' in from another existence and taking over this shit. See, I'm the villain who could'a been, who should'a been, but wasn't because of a last-minute change of mind from the 'technoboy' here. Had I stuck with my original choice of First CD, this here Naughty By Nature sophomore album 19 Naughty III, my teenaged musical development would have been radically different, gorging myself on all these hip-hop talents. Yo, I might even be writing ill shit for RapReviews.com now, unlike the regular wack mofo you deal with on this back-water blog.

Sykonee Prime: Are you so sure of that? I had rap tunes on mixtapes. Hell, I bought the CB4 soundtrack the following year. Okay, it was to impress my peers, which was the impetuous in me initially choosing 19 Naughty III anyway. My enjoyment of ‘techno’ was naturally bred, with hardly any outside influences dictating what I should listen to for social acceptance.

HHS: That’s just it! Had you copped this first, you’d have played it just as heavily as your early CDs, if for no other reason than you didn’t have much choice of selection in your personal collection then. But check it, hommes, those repeated plays would have sucked you into hip-hop’s world, 19 Naughty III offering just enough a glimpse of the scene to check out more. Like, Hip-Hop Hooray. Damn, what a classic! Maybe not as cheeky as NbN’s breakout hit O.P.P. (yeah, you know me!), but if you were at any sort of club, you know this bomb would go off.

SP: I do recall waving my arms to the chorus at high-school dances. Still, it’s about the only song anyone remembers from this album.

HHS: Which makes the rest of 19 Naughty III perfect for the discerning underground head. Despite having crossover appeal, Naughty By Nature were never a Pop-Hop act, fully embracing the self-proclaimed ‘cruddy crew’ image they cultivated. They weren’t gangsta, but they could weave street tales (The Only Ones; Daddy Was A Street Corner) just as fine as any rap act. Or how about straight-up battle-rapping as a posse? Cuts like Take It To Ya Face, Knock Em Out Da Box, and Hot Potato have vicious lyrical throw-downs without degrading into ultra-violent parody. Plus we can’t forget d’em smooth-yet-dirty come-ones for the ladies (Written On Ya Kitten, Sleepin’ On Jersey, Cruddy Clique); none of that R&B bullshit here, Syk’G.

SP: The beats are dope too - tough Eastcoast flavour, and plenty block-party bounce going on for me to get my boogie-bop going walking to school with headphones on. Y’know, I’m kinda’ feelin’ what you’re preachin’. 19 Naughty III just might have been enough to steer me down hip-hop’s road after all.

HHS: Word. So, I get the blog now?

SP: Well, the next review’s of Amon Tobin’s debut.

HHS: Th’fuck?

SP: Nu-jazz spazziatic IDM, or something.

HHS: Err, yeah. Look, I gotta’ jam back to my reality. Damn, son, you got into some weird shit here.

Del! The Funky Homosapien - No Need For Alarm

Elektra: 1993

While I've no doubt Del's ire against “wack MC's” was primarily directed toward those on his side of the pond, it sure is funny hearing him spouting off on lyrical lameness after I indulged a stretch of euro-dance raps. I can only imagine what the Funkee Homosapien would have thought if the likes of 2 Unlimited and Maxx had as much influence in America as they did in Europe, and how viciously he'd go for them if he cared to. Just as well Del focused his attention on his immediate competition in the hip-hop game, the silliness of euro hardly worthy of his wrath.

As for what got him so pissed off in the first place, I honestly don't know. Long-gone is the laid-back, funkadelic, 'lighter side of life' vibes that made up his debut album (Wrong Place notwithstanding). Perhaps one too many R&B chart-toppers finally broke his backpack, or maybe hip-hop’s growing dependence on gangsta tropes to shift units left him jaded with the art. Why should he have to spit about material he had no real experience with, nor wanted to fabricate to appease label heads? The core of rapping was about proving who could command a microphone and hold an audience’s attention with your lyrical skills. By 1993, too much of it had devolved into style over substance, flashy stage presence over verbal dexterity, and slick video mugging over direct connection to the kids in the streets. Fuck that noise, says Del - he just wasn’t gonna’ take it anymore.

No Need For Alarm has him removing the gloves, taking the entire hip-hop scene to task with an endless barrage of battle-raps. The opening salvo of tracks - You’re In Shambles, Catch A Bad One, Wack M.C.’s, and No Need For Alarm - became classics of the burgeoning ‘backpack rap’ scene, where lyrics cutting down hip-hop’s lamest, clichéd tendencies are the norm. This still being a young Del, however, he can’t help himself falling into some of the violent metaphors much of gangsta rap was littered with at the time. Catch A Bad One is filled with tons of aggressive imagery (to say nothing about “ripping heads off” of stuck-up girls in Boo Booheads!). He obviously wouldn’t literally do these things, but it’s a rather shocking side of Del he left behind long ago, unparalleled wordplay now his preferred weapon of choice.

Completing the ‘strictly underground’ vibe of this album is the bare-bones production, including jazz samples of wobbly cellos, out-of-tune horns, and muddy-as-shit rhythms. When your showcase is Del lyrically riding whatever beat you throw at him, you don’t want glossy nonsense getting in the way. Not exactly a strong selling point for, then, if Deltron 3030’s more your thing. Honestly though, No Need For Alarm serves best as a time-capsule, where Del not only stepped out from the shadows of a bloating hip-hop scene, but became a champion of heads hungry for underground, lyrical warriors mercilessly decimating false idols. He’d only get better from here.

2 Unlimited - No Limits!

Quality Music: 1993

Oh man, I could so do another 'anecdote review' with this CD, it being the first disc I ever owned and all. But nay, Nightflight To Venus was once enough for such a gimmick, so I'll leave the personal stories aside. All I'll say is had I bought my initial choice of Naughty By Nature's 19 Naughty III instead on that fateful day, my musical development could have been drastically different during those early, impressionable teenage years.

No Limits! came out a year after 2 Unlimited's debut, and the group was quick to transition from a charming (lambasted?) Belgian techno-rave act to a proper pop sensation. They couldn’t do it re-hashing the same ol’ dance formula as before though. They needed cleaner production, tighter song-writing, and a new anthem that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, their early singles of Get Ready For This and Twilight Zone weren’t just flukes cashing in on a hot sound. Something with a hook instantly recognizable and so simple anyone could hum it, with a chorus to match and a title that not only could be used for the LP-proper, but even have tongue-in-cheek playfulness as it related to the group name. Got it, R.U.O.K.!

Look, I’m actually sick of No Limit at this moment. Between it being the first track on this album, plus having just done the single, I’ve now heard seven iteration of the damned song in a row, five of which are practically identical to each other. I’ll still enjoy it the next time I hear it at a hockey game, but right now, I’m burnt out on it – I’ve discovered there is a limit to how much No Limit I can take.

Fortunately, No Limits! doesn’t retread that mind-numbing path quite so often. Maximum Overdrive and Let The Beat Control Your Body are similar tunes, in that they go for the ‘dumb-fun’ dance anthem as No Limit does, but the rest of this album’s surprisingly diverse within the limited range 2 Unlimited set upon itself. Tribal Dance was the other big single from here, far cleverer in offering high-octane dance music compared to forgotten tracks like Break The Chain and Kiss Me Bliss Me (literally, I forgot the latter existed!). Showing some musical class, Mysterious is a well-crafted dance-pop song, while Faces and The Power Age have Ray and Anita injecting world issues into their lyrics, using their gained popularity for more than mindless musical escapism. On the lighter side of things is a happy little number called Throw The Groove Down (such whimsical fun!) and a nice bit o’ bliss from Invite Me To Trance.

I’m not gonna’ sell you on No Limits! if you aren’t already sold on 2 Unlimited, but for such a quick sophomore effort, it’s leaps beyond Get Ready. Hell, even the ballads, Where Are You Now and Shelter For A Rainy Day, are pleasant numbers to end the album on. Me, giving praise to euro-dance ballads. That just don’t happen, mang!

Bandulu - Guidance

Infonet/Never Records: 1993/1996

While most of the UK were getting their rave hardcore techno on, one three-piece found themselves drawn to the source of it all, merry ol’ Detroit. Hey, if chaps from Germany and France could make American future-funk music, why not blokes from London too? These three men though - Jamie Bissmire, Lucien Thompson, and John O’Connell – couldn’t escape the musical melting pot that was the UK, immigrants from all the former empire’s old colonies bringing their sounds to the British underground as rave culture fostered bountiful creative growth. Some sound experiments flashed brilliantly, then swiftly died; others slowly burned and carry on to this day. Bandulu’s first album, Guidance, captures that period where it seemed nothing was off limits for UK techno.

Take the titular opener. What is it? Tribal? Trance? Techno? Dub? Progressive house? Oh, who cares – awesome is what it is, especially with a big bassline that’d leave Leftfield weak in the knees. That said, little else on Guidance hits the same perfect blend of genre soup quite like that cut does, the rest mostly focusing on those Detroit techno influences while keeping the open-air rave vibe going.

This leads to a lot of tunes sounding rather like trance, even earning them duty on a few early trance compilations before Bandulu went full dub techno. Revelation, a blissy space flight that would have gotten early Eye-Q’s attention; Peacekeeper works the loopy rhythms with echo washes (plus clap-action Oliver Lieb would be proud of); and Earth 6 is what early goa trance would have sounded like had the genre taken its cues from techno rather than industrial. As for the techno side of things, Messenger’s the groovy one, Gravity Pull’s the future-dystopian one, Flex is the Carl Craig inspired one (plus an added ethnic chant),Tribal Reign is the ‘experimental-Craig’ one, and Better Nation is the Carl Craig Innerzone Mix one. Yep, the Detroit don himself gets a credit on Bandulu’s debut – guess the London act’s influences didn’t go unnoticed in Old Techno Mecca at all. There’s also a downtempo-dub cut with Invaders, the sort of tune that undoubtedly earned Bandulu a bunch of gigs with Megadog.

So high praise abounds for Guidance, but here’s the caveat I must make with so much music from the early ‘90s: it’s rather dated. Bandulu as a group had yet to refine their production, thus many of the drum kits, synths, and samples are firmly rooted in that era of UK techno. Nothing’s outright tinny or anything, but clearly lacking the sonic finesse later works offered. Heck, as tracky as Cornerstone was, the music on there could at least still be played in a modern setting and few would be the wiser. Guidance, on the other hand, will have folks thinking of techno from the way back whens, the long long agos. All of which is fine should you have a fondness for this time and are looking for more neglected gems, as few techno LPs sound quite like Guidance, then or since.

Meat Loaf - Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell

MCA Records: 1993

Didn't I just say Bat Out Of Hell could only have been made in the '70s? Why on Earth is a sequel showing up in the '90s, then? This was the era of grunge and punk (again), leaving bombastic rock opera to the dust bins of baby boomer record shops. Jim Steinman, who wrote most of the music on Meat Loaf's most famous album, had been writing a second Bat since at least the turn of the '70s, but complications in development and a soured relationship with Meat Loaf stuck the project on hold for years. Some suspected Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell would end up another in the growing list of unrealized rock albums. Yet here it was, fifteen years after the first, and, amusingly, coincidentally, arriving around the time Guns N’ Roses’ Chinese Democracy was announced. Guess something in the rock world must carry that ‘indefinitely delayed’ banner.

So Meat Loaf’s BOOH II: More Heller came out, and unsurprisingly, it was a hit with aging rockers. It probably helped that Steinman and Loaf expand on the youthful nostalgia that made the original such a sleeper hit, showing mature reflection of aging times, themes anyone in their mid-life years could relate to. If there’s a big, anthem chorus along the way, all the better.

And like any sort of sequel, the music and arrangements up the theatrical productions to near breaking point on BOOH II: Helluva Boogaloo. The opening track and lead single, I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That) almost seems like a parody of Meat Loaf (which is funny, considering some critics called Bat Out Of Hell a parody of Springsteen), with bigger string sections, larger choruses with choirs, lengthier guitar and piano solos, a run time easily breaking anything Steinman and Loaf penned together, and the ‘humongous rock star of the universe’ sounding more humongous than ever; or, to sum it up, one bloat of a song. Quite a few folks loved it, but I’d Do Anything For Love is flying into ludicrous speeds of pompous rock overload. How did this get popular in ’93 again?

Yeah, bloat’s a good word to describe this album. Bat The First had some of it too, but vinyl limitations prevented it from getting too excessive. The extra time afforded on CD, however, gives Steinman all the opportunity to go overboard. There’s still some fun cock-rock about though - Life Is A Lemon And I Want My Money Back gets the fist pumpin’ good; the Wasted Youth skit’s a lot of fun, totally deserves a Jack Black re-enactment, and is a great lead in to the arena antics of Everything Louder Than Everything Else; plus I swear M83’s Midnight City nicked part of It Just Won’t Quit.

Michael Bay directed some of the videos spawned from Bat Out Of Hell II: Back To Hell, and this album comes off like one of his sequels: doubling-down on more of the same. Not for me, thanks.

Jean-Michel Jarre - Chronologie

CD-Maximum: 1993/2000

So maybe I wasn't so far off in assuming Chronologie was Jean-Michel Jarre's attempt at a clubland-crossover after all. That's all it truly was when I first wrote the review for Jarremix, an assumption based on remixes of the singles and watching the Chronologie 4 video (so early '90s!). Had I properly digested all of the Frenchman’s discography before hand, I might have gleaned a clearer perspective, but as it stood I was working off the major hits. Heck, the only reason I picked up Jarremix back in the day was it was one of the few trancey albums I stumbled upon. I had no idea who ol' Jean was at that point, and even after enjoying that collection, it was many moons before Monsieur Jarre's legacy came into focus for yours truly. We all start somewhere though, and now that I have the spending cash to dig in properly, it's time to start up the Jarre collection.

Seeing as how the Chronologie remixes were my introduction, I figured it appropriate to make this album one of the first purchases (along with the only Jean-Michel Jarre album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of a fan of Jean-Michel Jarre – but that one's all the way down in the 'O's). Chronologie 4 was also the tune that let me stop worrying and accept ol’ Jean’s sappier tendencies. Make no mistake, for as many sublime moments in his discography, Jarre has also gone full synth-pop fromage too, and anything of that sort released in the ‘90s just couldn’t hold up.

That was my long-time thoughts anyway, but the wonderful world of post-millennium space synth made me realize something: Chronologie 4 is totally space synth, in fact an expertly crafted example of such. Those charmingly dated synth tones, pumping rhythms that have you cruising the cosmos, and gloriously epic melodies, it’s what nearly all modern space synth composers strive for. Of course, this is a retroactive classification, but there it is.

That’s just one track though. The first half of Chonologie has Jarre doing the modern classical thing, including an eleven minute opener, while Part 2 ups the tempo with peppy synth-pop rhythms and church organs, sounding like his earlier works. The back half is far more early-‘90s in tone, and aside from Part 6’s groovy house vibe, is hilariously dated, especially so Part 5 and Part 8, what with hip-hop beats, freestyle orchestral-hits and fake record scratches! Dear Lord, Part 8’s what’s played during the credits of a bad comedy.

It was a poor end the original album, but in the year 2000, a Russian label got the distribution rights and, attempting to entice those who’d already bought Chronologie, included a slew of remixes of classic Jarre! Eh, cheap studio knock-offs, more like. There’s a few tracks I know in the list (Oxygene , Magnetic Fields, Calypso, etc.), and none hold a candle to the remixes found on Jarremix. Impossibly high standards set for Jarre remixes, that album did.

Spicelab - Lost In Spice

Planet Earth Recordings: 1993/1994

Of all Oliver Lieb’s albums, I have to say his debut Spicelab LP, Lost In Spice, must be his oddest. Not for its raw production or lack of typical Lieb trance, but for how boshing basic some of the rhythms are. No matter what genre he’s explored, Lieb’s craftsmanship with drums kits and basslines always kept him a step above his peers. Here though, you get near-gabber beats in Cold Chillin’, coming at you a blistering 160bpm. It’s more of a hard acid techno track, the sort of sound you might have heard Spiral Tribe kicking out around the same time. Yet hearing it must be like what Tiësto fans feel when hearing Da Joker.

Even more baffling is making it nearly seventeen minutes long. What’s he trying to do, create the progressive rock version of hard acid techno? I suppose Cold Chillin’ has enough neat sounds going for it to just make it worth the duration – sci-fi zaps, snarling TB-303 basslines, peppy synth hooks, percussion and cymbals that crescendo as industrial blocks clank in the background. It just seems overkill for a track of this nature. All well, ol’ Oliver always claimed his Spicelab material was intended for more experimental stuff, and if he wanted to open this album with ‘experimental hard acid bosh’, so be it.

The other tracks on here are closer in tune to the early Spicelab sound, with many distinctive traits that defined many Lieb productions (spacey synth pads, those claps…). Second cut Spicelab is a slow builder, working an eerie mood befitting of such a dark cover while even more bleeps n’ bloops come and go. There are more instances of hooks found, though no real melody until a rapturous breakdown some two-thirds through, where the rhythm essentially leaves for the rest of the track for more sci-fi soundscapes. It’s like you’ve been cruising through underground industrial tunnels, only to surface into a b-movie or ‘80s anime alien world. Have I mentioned the sounds Lieb uses are dated in a quirky retro way?

The B-side of this CD is similar, in that The Last Supernova is another 160bpm blistering cut with weird sound effects, though with more reliance on tinnier percussion and those sweeping synths also found in Spicelab classics like Amorph and Spice Is A Fulltime Occupation. The titular cut at the end is more like the eponymous cut, in that there’s more build, proper hooks and melody, plus distinct sections that evolve from what came before (almost an extended version of Quicksand, really). Also included with the American version is The Spirit Of Fear, a darker take on the same formula.

Lost In Space is undeniably rough around the edges, especially compared to Lieb’s future Spicelab and L.S.G. songwriting. For an early ‘90s techno LP though, it’s damn ambitious, and definitely a positive sign that ol’ Oliver would have himself a remarkable career in the following two decades. Not bad for a German making New Beat but two years prior.

The Orb - Live 93

Island Records: 1993

Here we go – live albums. You just know I got a lot of ‘em. Ah, some, but surprisingly few with titles that start with the word “Live”. Shame, as I could have done a themed week around these. Oh well, let’s get this show on the road, listening to musical acts taking their shows on the road.

First up is The Orb. Say, this is finally the first CD of Dr. Paterson’s project I get to talk about too. Bloody shame it’s this one. The idea behind it is fine, as The Orb had developed quite the reputation early on as a trippy experience live, perfectly befitting of those chill-out rooms of the growing rave scene. I’m sure plenty of wonderful, primitive CGI floated across projector screens and the like. Even without the visual accompaniment, I can conjure nifty things while lying back with my headphones. Ooh, shiny globs!

But nay, it’s bloody hard to get into Live 93, on account this isn’t a single live performance; rather, a compilation of various gigs throughout that year, all arranged in confounding order. A Tokyo gig is followed by a Copenhagen gig is followed by a Glastonbury gig, and back to a Copenhagen gig, followed by a Live Orbient gig. Something like that anyway, and far from a proper live album experience when playing this through.

You may also realize that The Orb only had two albums out by that time, Adventure’s Beyond The Ultraworld and U.F.Orb. That isn’t much material to make up a live double-LP, even with The Orb’s typically long, noodly bits of ambience. What’s added to the live experience is just that, imagining yourself in such context, and the unique flourishes musicians may create on the fly. As The Orb make ample use of dubby echo and swishy filters, you bet you’re getting plenty of extras in these live renditions, so somewhat different from what you’d hear on the albums if you don’t mind sample-heavy dithering.

Unfortunately, I can’t ever hear ‘em without cranking my volume to near-ludicrous levels. The four Glastonbury recordings are okay, and about the only ones that stand out as worth listening to - you even get some actual crowd noise and full-aired resonance. At the other end of the spectrum are the four Copenhagen tracks, all hopelessly muffled and lacking any sort of dynamics. Perpetual Dawn should not sound this limp, ever, and enduring nearly twenty minutes of pants-sounding Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain is utterly pointless. The other ones are only marginally better than the Copenhagen cuts, and hardly worth the inclusion when coupled against the Glastonbury offerings.

I can only see two reasons why folks would have wanted this back in the day. One, it was a handy ‘hits compilation’, albeit poorly recorded. Two, a pair of then-unreleased tracks opened each CD, Plateau and Valley. Good tunes, true, but in superior form on the 1995 album Orbus Terrarum. Thus, beyond completism or curiosity, Live 93 is hopelessly redundant two decades on.