Delerium - Semantic Spaces

Nettwerk: 1994

It was a perfect point in my musical development that I stumbled upon Delerium's first forays into crossover ethno-pop. The acts that had served as my introduction to the genre weren't doing it for me anymore, the allure of thicker, dubbier beats drawing me deeper to the underground. Yet I hadn't ventured that far from familiar shores either, a compilation or two about my only exposure to the likes of Orb, FSoL, and BdG. How could I know Bill Leeb and Rhys Fulber raided a ton of famous beats and sounds from prominent acts and famous tunes? Besides, it's not like Semantic Spaces' intended audience would know either, the album marking a reinvention of the Delerium brand for a potential new listener base of New Age stay-at-home mothers.

Or not. Whatever commercial roads the duo travelled in the wake of Karma doesn’t really apply at this earlier point in their career. Front Line Assembly was still their biggest draw, Delerium mostly relegated to dark ambient noodling, a chance to explore weird soundscapes and abstract songcraft. The label Nettwerk itself was also in transition, moving away from the EBM and ethereal synth-pop acts that defined its ‘80s output (Skinny Puppy, Moev, Single Gun Theory). Even Nettwerk’s biggest star, Sarah McLachlan, had yet to break out of local stardom, mostly making music that wouldn’t sound out of place on 4AD.

It’s that influence, more than anything, that marks Semantic Spaces style. There was no real crossover attempt here because neither the name Delerium nor Nettwerk had much impact yet beyond the scenes that already nurtured them (and even rejected by hard-line industrial sorts). Some of the sampling that goes on here is a bit much though – Flatlands is basically a beefed-up early Enigma tune, and it’s difficult hearing Consensual Worlds without thinking of The Orb, much less the bell hook and native chants in Sensorium without thinking of Origin Unknown or Deep Forest. Yeah, quite a few of these came from sample discs used throughout the industry, but sometimes an act uses it so definitively, anything after comes off like a cheap copy. That said, I fully endorse the use of that Meat Beat Manifesto break in Resurrection. Paupa New Guinea’s a classic, but it don’t have no Vangelis choir chant, mang!

Semantic Spaces finds its proper stride when Leeb and Fulber write music with less emphasis on the samples they crib. The two vocal tracks with Kristy Thirsk are some of Delerium’s best, Flowers Become Screens hitting great gothic grooviness (!?) and Incantation a ridiculously catchy club cut (that chorus!). The remaining instrumentals - Metaphor, Metamorphosis, and Gateway - ride ethno-ethereal trip-hop vibes as expertly as you’d ever find in the early ‘90s, never coming off sap or cliché.

Aw man, those darn nostalgia headphones are on my head again, aren’t they. Whatever. Semantic Spaces doesn’t demand fastidious critiquing – it is what it is, and you can either despise it for that, or embrace your inner Wiccan goddess. Or something.

Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works Volume II

Sire Records Company: 1994

For many out there, this was their first Aphex Twin album. Mine too, in fact, though I bought it along with …I Care Because You Do and Richard D. James Album - when you’re diving into the Aphex’d one’s catalog, there’s no sense half-assing it, right? Selected Ambient Works Volume II was most fans’ first LP experience with the man from the lands of Cornish though, thanks in no small part to the abundance of recommendations it continuously received. Liked that droning ambient track off Radiohead’s Kid A? SAW II. Want more music like Boards Of Canada? SAW II. Need to complete your Very Important Ambient Albums collection? SAW II. Curious about Aphex Twin but hate ‘techno’ beats? Come To Daddy EP.

The internet has no shortage of metaphoric write-ups and poetic praise gushed upon this double-LP. Hell, I recall a PR blurb on the wrapping stating something like “if the Monolith from 2001 could make music, it’d sound like this album”, which is about as pretentious an assessment of droning ambience as you can get. Couple that with packaging that screams “THIS ARE ART!” (non-titles, abstract track depictions), and you’ve an album from the ‘rave ranks’ highly instrumental in electronic music’s continued ascent into credible discourse.

Not that it’s undeserved. The compositions crafted across these two CDs truly are remarkable in their bizarre, warped approach to tones and timbres. You often do feel like you’re navigating realms of the outworld, occasionally brought back to an earthly grounding only to be charted off to alien dreamscapes shortly after. At times Mr. James creates pieces of such lovely, soothing calm, you feel like being wrapped in a warm blanket of sonic bliss (Cliffs, Rhubarb, Lichen, Z Twig). Other times he’ll drag you through weird scenery, images distorted into lucid abstractions (Spots, White Blur 2, Radiator, Domino, Grass, Parallel Strips, Curtains, Tree). Some tracks offer a guiding rhythm, and thus a bit more structure to the proceedings (Blue Calx, Shiny Metal Rods, Blur, Hexagon, Weathered Stone). And in a few more pieces, it sounds like the Aphex’d one is just messing around with sounds and effects for their own sake, getting his musique concrete on because why not (White Blur 1, Grey Strip, Tassels). Yes, I’m referring to these compositions by their assumptive picture names – it’s easier that way.

Selected Ambient Works Volume II can seem a daunting excursion for some, a two-hour plus dive into various sonic doodles with no real rhyme or reason for their being. No doubt a few of the ultra-abstract sorts could have been jettisoned while lengthier pieces shortened. And yet, despite some tracks not sticking to my brain matter as memorably as others, I can’t imagine this album as less than its current sum. There’s honestly enough variety across twenty-four works (twenty-five for vinyl enthusiasts, lucky bastards) that you’re constantly engaged by each piece, just to hear where Aphex goes next with it. No wonder everyone keeps hoping for Selected Ambient Works Volume 3.

Escape - The Futurescape

Ambient World: 1994/2011

Just when I thought I’d escaped all things Namlookian for a while, I get pulled right back in, ironically with a CD from his project Escape. Fortunately, we’re dealing with the proper thing in this review, an original album from ye' olden days of Mr. Kaulmann's career …sort of. The original-original self-titled Escape album was a two-disc affair, gathering tracks off the four Escape EPs onto one CD, and the other dedicated to an original composition titled The Futurescape. Fax +49-69/450464 being Fax +49-69/450464, only one-thousand copies of the CD were issued and was soon out of print, but hey, that’s why the sub-label Ambient World was established early on, offering reissues of high-demand FAX albums. Erm, I guess Escape wasn’t terribly high in demand, as this particular CD didn’t come out until 2011, way late in Ambient World’s lifespan (and also now defunct with all other FAX sub-labels).

Can't blame folks for the alias' obscurity though, as Escape is often overshadowed by Namlook and Dr. Atmo's other collaborative project, Silence. That one was where all the big ambient epics came about, whereas Escape often played the safe bet in attaching hard trance and acid to its name. There were a couple decent cuts from those efforts (Escape To Neptune's still a blinder of a trip), but as nearly every German with a TB-303 was making trance in those days, quickly got lost in the glut despite providing ambient versions on the B-sides. After that, ol' Peter and the Doctor continued focusing on Silence whenever they hooked up, Escape and its album relegated to a mere footnote in the FAX discography. Its remarkable Ambient World even got around to a reissue for the project then.

As for The Futurescape, this isn't a strict reissue of the original self-titled Escape double-discer – no way old hard trance makes a lick a sense on a label called Ambient World. Neither is it a re-packing of that second CD either, since there were enough tracks on the experimental downbeat warranting another listen. Thus we have a condensed version, keeping the two biggest 'hits' under the Escape banner (Trip To Mars and Trip From Mars), an extended excerpt of Atmospheric Processor (ambient version of Escape To Neptune), and most of The Futurescape intact (about four minutes of ultra-minimalist drone from the opening cut out, thank God).

The Mars tracks are mostly dark drones with little splashes of sound echoing about. The only difference between the two is To plays forward, and From plays backwards. Atmosphere Processor pulls the same trick too, though has more rhythm going for it. As for The Futurescape, it’s a lengthy, moody affair, befitting the sci-fi theme most Escape tracks had. Sometimes it drones about with eerie samples, other times a bit of acid rhythm emerges, and other parts feature a brisk, soft techno beat guiding things along. And repeats. A lot. Honestly, it’s not a classic by FAX standards, but worth a listen if you’re digging deeper into Namlook’s discography.

Various - Rising High Trance Injection

Instinct Records: 1994

One of the buried treasures of early '90s classic trance, this. Not that Teenage Sykonee realized it when he picked it up by random chance. All he saw was an affordable double-CD with a bunch of weird, cool names (Influx! Syzygy! Tranquilizer! New London School Of Electronics! Perry & Rhodan?), and the word ‘trance’ on the cover. Perfect! Oh wait, except for one track, this sounds nothing like hard German trance. Fail. That second disc's got some neat ambient though. Win!

More to the facts, Rising High Trance Injection is a gathering of ancient trance-leaning tunes from the seminal UK label Rising High, offered up by seminal US label Instinct. Also in for the ride are tracks from seminal German label Fax +49-69/450464, whom Rising High had a distribution deal with. Geez, is that ever a lot of label cross promotion. There's also a lot of acid on hand, Rising High more of a techno print than trance, but daring enough in their records that occasional spacey, trippy sounds would be released along with the hardcore rave thump. If you’re curious about what trance was doing in the UK before even Platipus existed, Rising High Trance Injection is as perfect a summation as you’ll find. Detailing all the cool music on this release will require a serious namedrop paragraph though, so let’s get to it.

CD1 features such important names as Casper Pound (he founded the label so of course), Resistance D., The Irresistible Force, Pete Namlook, Dr. Atmo, and Ed Handley of Black Dog Productions. They are almost all under pseudonyms, some making music you’d never expect of them. For instance, Namlook and Atmo teamed up as Escape, and their track Escape To Neptune is an absolute blinder of hard trance stomp. Due to some legal hiccups, Resistance D’s credited as RD1 for their classic bliss cut Eclipse. Casper Pound hides in the trippy self-titled Tranquilzer, while breaks and ambient dabbler James Bernard (Expansion Unit!) offers up two spacey acid tracks as Influx (plus a dark space ambient outro as Cybertrax at the end of CD2). Oh yeah, Perry & Rhodan’s beloved The Beat Just Goes Straight On & On opens disc one, but I’ve always felt that tune too gimmicky. Give me the deep acid pulse of OBX’s Eternal Prayer or psychedelic build of Balil’s Parasight instead!

That disc two though, hot damn are there some hidden gems lurking about. Here there be lo-o-ong tracks, only six in total but great examples of the ethnic leaning side of chill-out house and ambient dub. Most are familiar with the Namlook and Morris pairing Dreamfish, and we get the aptly dreamy eighteen-minute long School Of Fish on this CD. Namlook’s also here with Christian Thier as Sequential for the proper-trancey Everything Is Under Control. My favourite discovery of these though is Syzygy’s Discovery, coming off what a blend of early Orb and Banco de Gaia might sound like. On acid. Seriously, dude, the acid’s all over this compilation.

2 Unlimited - Real Things

Quality Music: 1994

If I'm not mistaken, this review of 2 Unlimited's third album marks a minor milestone on this blog: the first completion of an artist's discography. Okay, there are certain conditions for this achievement, like said act in question must have more than two album's released, and I have to actually own them all within my collection. Despite buying quite a few CDs over the years (four digits, creepin’ closer!), there aren’t many artists I’ve gathered full discographies of. Sometimes it’s due to an obscenely huge output (oh hi, Neil Young), other times it’s from scarcity of hard copies (boo limited runs), or perhaps an act enters a period of meh-to-suck in later years, making purchases pointless (sorry, ‘electronica’ darlings). Oh, and I refuse to acknowledge the existence of Wilde and de Coster's reboot attempt with two different singers – 2 Unlimited will forever be the original foursome, accept no alternatives!

Not only does Real Things complete my coverage of the former euro-dance juggernaut, it was also the final album they released, third in as many years. When you consider today’s dance-pop icons barely manage one LP in the same amount of time, I find that impressive. Fine, the rules of the game have considerably changed since two decades hence, artists capable of sustaining careers on singles alone. If we’re playing that game though, 2 Unlimited were utterly dominate in that area too, Real Things alone spawning off three top-Tens, plus a surprising fourth single in the ballad Nothing Like The Rain. That one’s not as good as the ballads off No Limits! and oh my God I’m championing euro dance ballads over others. Does my 2 Unlimited bias have no shame?

Probably not, though as always, a full-length outing from this group has its ups and downs. Compared to the prior two albums, Real Things is incredibly slick and polished, all hints of Belgian rave roots completely varnished away. Instead, they’ve adopted the sounds of Germany and Italy, though did so in their own way. Even at the height of euro-dance’s glut, you couldn’t mistake a 2 Unlimited cut for any other, Ray and Anita among the most distinctive rap-and-singer combos that scene ever produced. No wonder everyone tried copying their formula, and smaller wonder still they felt compelled to call out all the style-biters on lead single The Real Thing. Then again, who are they to do so when the track is centred on a Bach riff. Oh Turbo B ain’t gonna’ like that, nosiree.

The rest of the album flits between songs about love (Burning With Desire, Sensuality, Face To Face), dancing (Hypnotised, Escape In Music, Tuning Into Something Wild), but never about the love of dancing, oddly. There’s also an ode to a then-emergent cyberspace (Info Superhighway), and a couple ‘stand tall and proud’ type of tunes in Here I Go, Do What I Like, and What’s Mine Is Mine. Unsurprisingly, they’re the best tunes on Real Things. It’s as though being original is a good thing!

Various - Pulp Fiction

MCA Records: 1994

Shame I didn't get to this CD a little sooner – say, last yearish. I could’ve generated cheap traffic by piggy-backing off clickbait articles like “Hey, It’s The 20th Anniversary Of That Movie You Can’t Stop Quoting!” But alas, we're already two weeks deep into 2015, long past the expiry date of people nostalgically revisiting Pulp Fiction's 1994 release. Who cares that it came out mid-November of that year, thus making us but two months late for twentieth-anniversary prestige. Hell, as I recall, Tarantino's opus to the mush of storytelling didn't catch popular buzz until well into '95, finding more fanfare on the home video market where all us impressionable underage Gen-X types could finally watch it. And hoo, what a movie to behold, making not a lick of sense but strangely captivating as Hollywood stars waxed bullshit over obscene circumstances.

Plus the music! Wow, where did ol' Quentin find all that awesome music? His personal record collection apparently, turning many of his flicks into as much a mixtape as they are ‘70s genre-sploitations. Of course, with over two decades to study his methods, having rare, odd, and perfect tunes’ become the expectant norm, and unfortunately nothing’s made quite the impact that the surf rock of Misirlou did. Still, Tarantino made a style of music that had been absolutely dead for three decades hip again. That’s quite an achievement, and though it didn’t resurrect into a reinvigorated scene, it did create a new generation of crate divers digging a little further into obscure musical cul-de-sacs. Erm, not me though – I still had ‘techno’.

So the surf rock is primarily what Pulp Fiction’s music is remembered for, and for good reason. Beyond the killer opener, at least a third of the music on this soundtrack is in that style. Another significant chunk is taken up by dark, bluesy country, though not always specifically from that scene. Heavy rockers Urge Overkill do a cover of Neil Diamond’s Girl, You’ll Soon Be A Woman, and then-newcomer Maria McKee goes full-on whisky folk, but every track has that ‘outlaw’ feeling that Tarantino loves writing into protagonists. Not so much always the ‘bad guys’, as he’s featured his fair share of vigilantes too. More like desperados, and can you think of any sub-sub American culture that was filled with those sorts than the outlaws of the country? Sure, the surfer nation! Nothing caught that vintage American West desperado spirit like freeloaders taking on the mighty waves of the Pacific Ocean, risking life and limb to prove Man was undefeatable in the face of his Mother Nature’s fury. Well, the music suggested as such.

Look, I’m just waxing bullshit here for the sake of my own ego (like a Tarantino movie!). Even if you haven’t seen Pulp Fiction (!), you’ve probably seen a parody or two, and know its music and culled bits of dialog from those. You don’t need me telling you to check this out, because you already have, even if only by cultural osmosis.

The Orb - Pomme Fritz

Island Red Label: 1994

Perhaps the best era to step into The Orb's world as a doe-eyed ambient newbie was around 1995 (yeah, that year again). Though the group's discography was but a third of its current size, the scant choices for an album plunge were bona-fide classics, as decreed by the Ambient Emporium Consortium Collective. Simply walk into a shop and pick any ol' Orb CD you found sitting on the shelves, confident that the plaudits graced upon them were sure and true. That's the theory anyway, and undoubtedly worked fine for those living in the UK or major metropolitan districts with A&B Sounds and Tower Records aplenty. For a west coast Canadian teenager with paltry sums of money, however, paying big bucks for double-disc albums was simply unthinkable (to say nothing of the curious scarcity of U.F. Orb and Orbus Terrarum in those days). But what's this? Why, a little album at half the price of a regular LP. What a perfect entry point, thought I. Surely I will learn all that I need to know about The Orb from Pomme Fritz! Wait, what are you doing with that rug I currently stand upon?

Look, it isn’t much surprise that whatever druggy tomfoolery was going down in The Orb studios would manifest itself with patience sapping experimentation. I guess folks should be thankful it was mostly relegated to this stopgap, and honestly only two tracks at that, titled More Gills Less Fishcakes and We’re Pastie To Be Grill You. There’s irreverent sampling, bizarre tape manipulations, occasional ear-wormy bits that go absolutely nowhere, splashy über-dubbed rhythms, and a few instances of lovely spaced-out synth work.

Fortunately, they took that one good element and made it a prominent feature in Bang ‘Er ‘n Chips, working it into a minimalist excursion into ambient dub. It also features some of the group’s vintage clever style of sampling: a woman talks about wishing upon stars at night (with billions and billions to choose from!), recalling the Little Fluffy Clouds monologue, while an old Saturday Night Live skit about the relaxing nature of electroshock therapy keeps the mood firmly in cheek. Following that, Alles Ist Schoen goes for the ‘dreamy time’ music road, cascading synths galore. Ah, now he gets it, Teenage Sykonee does.

I guess I should mention that the main track off Pomme Fritz, Meat ‘N Veg, has all the above features arranged into the closest thing to an actual song. Yeah, this ‘little album’ is ‘little’ more than variations on it – not really remixes, but Paterson and co. dicking around in the studio with all those elements (apparently the recent re-issue has even more sessions; yay?). Well, except for the final ditty, His Immortal Logness, a ridiculous piece of short music that would feature wonderfully in a parody of stuffy 1700s European chamber gatherings. I like this more than I should, and as a D-side, it’s totally harmless fluff. Frankly, Pomme Fritz comes off like a D-side, one that charted on sheer Orb prestige alone.

Biosphere - Patashnik

Apollo: 1994

Patashnik is very much a transitional album for Geir Jenssen, which is odd considering it’s only the second Biosphere release in a discography that includes some dozen or so LPs. Even this early in his career though, the man from Northern Norway was looking beyond the ambient techno he helped define, away from the dance floors and chill-out rave tents and towards more noble pursuits like film scores and art galleries. Well, at least a Levi advertisement, the single Novelty Waves earning him some extra coin for its usage in a jeans commercial. And why not? With its groovy techno beat and stone-cold electro sounds, can you think of a better soundtrack for Depression Era Mid-West America? Wait, what?

What I’m getting at here is, while Microgravity’s rave roots were inescapable, Patashnik doesn’t indulge in them as often. Even when Jenssen does make a dance floor friendly track, it comes off as lip-service, many of his rhythms rudimentary as far as techno of the time was concerned. The aforementioned Novelty Waves is definitely one of the stronger beats found here, but Seti Project is little more than standard high-energy trance. You’d think ‘trance’ and ‘Biosphere’ would be a match made in arctic heaven, yet there’s little in Seti Project that you couldn’t find on dozens of Eye-Q or MFS records. Meanwhile, the titular cut doesn’t sound far off from an early Aphex Twin leftover, Botanical Dimensions carries on the ‘bleep’ techno movement in a quietly subdued manner, while Caboose and The Shield are essentially recycled ambient dub grooves. At least Decryption’s slow ambient techno pulse far better serves the Biosphere stylee than the rest of these tracks. Not that the melodies, synth sounds and song craft contained in all these tracks are bunk, but the rhythms oddly date Patashnik even more so than Microgravity’s offerings.

The ambient compositions, however, sound like they were intended for an entirely different album. Opener Phantasm is all kinds of creepy with children intoning they had shared dreams, and a melody sounding like an off-key radar-ping metronome only adds to the eerie atmosphere. Following that, Startoucher is endlessly desolate and cold, even with a charming bit of dialog about reaching out to the stars at night - you just know ol’ Geir was inspired by the dead of Tromsø winter on this one. Further along the album, Mir takes you to the lonely Russian space station, while En-Trance is… a completely different track from everything else under the Biosphere banner to that point. Gentle, strumming guitars? What are you trying to do, Geir, make ‘real’ music or something? Because you’d be totally awesome at it!

Despite the differing styles of music on Patashnik, they’re all arranged such that it makes for an agreeable listen from start to finish – Jenssen knows how to sequence an LP, even if he only has a general theme to build upon. Following this one though, he’d tighten his inspirations up to such a degree, he’d leave several ambient classics in his wake.

Various - One. A.D. (Volume One Ambient Dub)

Waveform Records: 1994

One A.D. took what I knew about downtempo music (one year knowledge!) and utterly shattered it. On the musical front, Enigma and Deep Forest suddenly sounded corny and commercial. As starting points for further ambient exploration, The Orb and Brian Eno came off obvious and safe. I mean, who were all these guys on this compilation? The Higher Intelligence Agency? Banco de Gaia? Sandoz? I'd never seen those names on “Must Have Ambient” lists, giving One A.D. a mysterious allure most other chill-out collections of the time couldn't compete with. The giants of the genre could wait - I wanted to hear what the less-heralded offered in this exciting new realm of underground ambient house and techno.

I’ve gone on and on and on about Waveform Records’ beginnings, but in case you’re new to this blog (hi, enjoy your stay!), here’s the quick lowdown. Birmingham label Beyond Records kicked off a nifty new sound called ambient dub, and ran a critically hailed compilation series promoting the stuff. Waveform Records opened up shop in America and served as their outlet for a short while. As Beyond had already released three Ambient Dub collections by that point, Waveform had some choice material to recycle for their launch. What they did instead was more interesting.

For sure there were familiar names between both labels: HIA, Banco, A Positive Life, Original Rockers (Rockers Hi-Fi). Somehow though, Waveform convinced these acts to provide fresh material for One A.D., a sweet deal if you already had the Beyond discs. Thus Toby Marks made new mixes of Desert Wind and Shanti (the latter being a far superior version compared to its original incarnation), A.P.L. sends The Calling into a lengthy, floaty Ambient Mix, Original Rockers lend a production hand to kindred dub spirits Templeroy on Dubometer, and HIA made an exclusive track for Waveform in Harmony Angel.

Along with a couple repeats (Original Rockers’ Mecca Of Space, G.O.L.’s Soma Holiday, the original version of The Calling ...yeah, track appears twice on One A.D., but as the original’s quite bangin’ for a supposed ‘chill’ tune, the contrast is welcome), Waveform got in a couple names Beyond never did: Sandoz and Pentatonik. Considering the scarcity of Sandoz’ debut, its remarkable Waveform secured a license for Beam. Even rarer is Pentatonik’s Devotion, first appearing buried as the CD-only last track of his debut Autonomous EP. As a bit of dubby ambient techno though, it’s a good fit.

For some reason, One A.D. was ‘reformulated’ at the turn of the century, jettisoning Shanti and HIA’s Spectral in favour of tunes from Ras Command and Urchin. Both were new artists to Waveform, so I’m assuming it was done as promotion - can’t let Bird and Marks hog the six year old track list. While it nerfs the ‘vintage early ‘90s sound’ of the CD a little, One A.D. remains a great collection of ambient dub of that era. Its well-worth your coinage if you’ve even the smallest hankering for the stuff.

Fun Factory - Nonstop! The Album

Attic: 1994

When I first heard Fun Factory's big hits Close To You and Take Your Chance, it marked the first time I had doubts about my two-year strong love affair with euro-dance. By no means the worst tunes of that scene I'd come across, something about the group struck me as too manufactured. Yeah, yeah, almost all euro-dance acts were studio engineered and mass marketed with pretty faces lip-syncing on stage and videos, and even in my youthful naivety I accepted that so long as some semblance of authenticity emerged with the performers. This four-piece though, I dunno. It seemed the producers behind Fun Factory (German-based Team33) had a check-list of every detail necessary for a hit euro act, and dutifully marked them all down.

Some pre-requisites filled: a hot chick on the chorus (who may or may not have done the actual vocals), the black rapper (!), a white ragga rapper (!!), and a dancer (!?). Actually, I’ll give this factory of fun-stuffs credit for giving the dancer an official role within the group, something it seems only The Prodigy could pull off with any credibility. On the music front, you’ve got a Snap! tune, a Maxx track, a Felix (Rollo) riff, rhythms similar to the Abfahrt Records camp, and is that a little Ace Of Base reggae in there too? Yep, whatever formula was out there for a euro-dance hit, Fun Factory got in on that, and then some (is Prove Your Love eurobeat?).

Right, plenty of cynicism for Nonstop! The Album on my front. Why do I even have Fun Factory's debut album, then? Reason number one: if I see a euro-dance collection from 1994 sitting in a used CD shop, I've developed a reflex action of instantly picking it up, no questions asked. Don't judge me, that year was the absolute bomb for euro. Hell, this album's proof of it, where despite as canned as Fun Factory comes across, there's still plenty of ear-wormy dance-pop tunes throughout.

The second reason, and where I’ll give Team33 the most credit for, is how Nonstop! The Album does all it can in making this a strong LP experience. Alongside the aforementioned euro-dance and reggae-pop jams, there’s pure anthem techno (Fun Factory’s Groove), throwback Belgian beat (Fun Factory’s Theme), soul-croon (I Miss Her), hip-hop freestyle (erm, Freestylin’), and crap R&B ballad (Hey Little Girl ...oh God, is this track ever shit). You could make the cynical argument this is just Fun Factory covering all the bases, but the way this album’s presented, I don’t get that vibe. Despite their seemingly artificial formation, there’s a sense of genuine earnestness from all the participants - they’re committed to the act, and those who listen to Fun Factory are in on the act as well. Its euro-dance that makes no apologies for its commercial nature, and it’s gonna’ give you all that it can give. Try telling that to Teenage Sykonee though, who felt euro-dance should be serious and shit. G’ah.

Maxx - No More (I Can't Stand It) (2014 Update)

Quality Music: 1994

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

Ah, hmm. I guess Maxx never had their own video game tie-in I can fanficify, did they. I'm gonna' have to do a real 2014 Update for this single, aren't I. Man, you don't want that. You know how boring it would have been had I done the same for all those 2 Unlimited singles? My original reviews were exhaustively detailed, and while not always entirely accurate, in no need of updating. I'll grant possibly only two people on the planet get a kick out of those BioMetal stories, but I write them for my amusement, a break from my usual fare. Dammit, why couldn't Maxx have been more popular than 2 Unlimited? Not even a CD-ROM soundtrack credit? *sigh*

Actually, listening to No More again, I’m surprised how well it’s held up to this day. Despite lacking the polish of Maxx’ first hit, Get-A-Way (Team Samira, yo’!), there remains an undeniable craft to its pop production. Maybe it’s the fact Gary Bokoe’s ‘raggamuffin’ approach to the requisite euro-dance rap sounds unlike any other out there. Seriously, compared to the endless copycats that emerged after Maxx’ success, Gary comes off remarkably unique. I think the only reggae-rapper in that scene that outmatched him was ICE MC, and he had the benefit of heritage on his side. What’s a silly German outfit like Maxx doing emulating the UK’s fascination with reggae-dance music?

There’s a lot of music from the ‘90s that’s hopelessly dated to those years. Some of it, like old school rave, big beat, and prog-house with ethnic chants continue to work in spite of their datedness, a nostalgia for the long-gone scenes they sprung up within. Conversely, this same factor works against some genres if the memories and events tied to them remind us of things the music world would much rather forget – New Jack Swing probably won’t see a comeback since everything we associate with the genre spotlights the commercial urban scene’s desperate attempt at cashing in on hip-hop street authenticity.

Euro-dance of the ‘90s exists in a funny realm between the two, primarily due to an explosive birth of creativity, followed by years of shameless rehashing and generic retreads (music turned “beige”, as ICE MC put it). Yeah, I’m being liberal with the term ‘creativity’, but consider: in combining hip-house, italo, and anthem ‘techno’, euro-dance struck upon a formula that had never been done before, and opened a wide door of potential genre blending. The most memorable tunes of this era almost all sprung up within those first couple years of existence, producers mixing and matching influences from other scenes (reggae! trance! country?), trying to top the charts over their contemporaries with some new angle (oh hi, Maxx). These songs hold up as strong dance-pop because everyone making it kept outdoing each other in this musical arms race. Small surprise acts like 2 Unlimited, Culture Beat, and Dr. Alban are making bank on ‘90s nostalgia tours now. Why Maxx hasn’t gotten in on that action?

The Prodigy - No Good (Start The Dance)

XL Recordings: 1994

If any single perfectly encapsulated The Prodigy's transition from fun-time hardcore rave act to gritty thrash-dance heroes, it would have to be No Good. Following the commercial success (and critical backlash) of Experience, Liam Howlett saw it necessary for a change of direction, keeping five steps ahead of the imitators that had sprung up. One Love was the first step, mostly abandoning spastic breakbeats and chipmunk vocals in favour of serious shit like ethnic chants and didgeridoos. Um, more on that one at a later date.

Before all the fierce punk attitudes that defined Music For The Jilted Generation’s legacy came into being, Mr. Howlett still had regular ravey tunes on the mind, including big riffs and poppy vocal samples. Using the same Kelly Charles hook that Hithouse did was far from a unique idea, and Liam later expressed his early doubts over it, already being such a played out vocal. A testament to his brilliant song-writing, then, that he not only kept the You’re No Good For Me line, but made it his own in the process, retaining the underground cred’ he was hard at work re-establish for The Prodigy. Hell, it sure convinced me: my first exposure to it was Jack To The Sound Of Underground, yet every time I hear Ms. Charles now, it’s No Good that fires off in my memory banks.

The synth riffs are punchy and not all that dissimilar to typical 'techno' tearing up charts of the time, but there an air of menace to them; the happy days are over, yo'. And those rhythms, mang! Liam already had a knack for killer beat-craft, yet his Experience stuff was looser, often frenetic for frenzy’s sake. The beats in No Good, however, feel tighter and more propulsive than anything Liam had made before. It’s dance music with purpose and intent, from which much of Jilted Generation’s style took cues from.

Completing the ‘transformative’ act was the video. Early Prodigy videos were goofy and wacky, which suited the music Howlett was producing at the time fine. If he was taking his work back underground though, he needed a visual accompaniment that reflected his manifesto. Thus, what better setting for a proper illegal than an abandoned warehouse, complete with enthusiastic dancers (Flint and Thornhill included) and freaks of society (um, Flint again) inhabiting the place? Shot in black and white (sans some yellow in Maxim’s cat iris contact lenses), the strobe effects greatly enhance an already rough rave setting, the sort of party that continues to get romanticized as how the scene should be maintained. That said, I’ve no idea what the point of Howlett’s ‘Prodge Smash!’ bit at the end’s all about.

The Bad For You Mix is essentially the same song taken down typical techno-rave roads, while CJ Bolland’s Museum Mix digs deep into the 4am acid hole. Both are worthy rubs of the original, but not as memorable. Admit it, No Good’s been playing in your head the moment you saw the title.

The Prodigy - Music For The Jilted Generation

XL Recordings: 1994

Probably the most successful reboot of a musical act ever accomplished, at least within the world of electronic music. Several have tried re-invention or adopted alternate aliases to explore other genres, but The Prodigy's flip from chart-topping happy rave hardcore act to credible guardians of the underground party is nothing short of remarkable. Just a couple years prior, everyone associated them with fun goofball hits like Charly and Out Of Space. Then, seemingly overnight, they're confronting you with punk attitudes and music to match. The Prodigy never lost their hardcore, they snatched it back from those who'd turned it into a joke.

What’s amazing about Music For The Jilted Generation is, while clearly a ‘90s album, it somehow exists out of time too. You throw on Experience, and you instantly know it’s of the early ‘90s hardcore scene. Fat Of The Land is undeniably part of big beat’s major market push, and anything released post-Millennium sounds exactly like that. The music on this album, however, didn’t have a scene to itself, and never would because no one tried emulating Jilted Generation - with any success anyway.

I suppose you could mark some tunes like Their Law and Poison as proto-big-beat, but what of the other tracks? Liam Howlett’s still using high-energy breakbeats, but rather than coupling them with rolling pianos and chipmunk vocals, you get synths that snarl, guitars that thrash, and rhythms that’ll have you moshing just as much as flailing. Plus, Jilted Generation’s pacing is impeccable, great memorable tunes like Break & Enter and Voodoo People interspersed perfectly with uptempo filler techno. Believe me, I use the word ‘filler’ as a good thing here, Full Throttle, Speedway and The Heat (The Energy) the simplistic musical ebbs that propel No Good and Poison into the standouts they are within Jilted. It was bloody rare in ’94 for a ‘techno-rave’ album showing such consideration to tracklisting.

Then there’s the Narcotic Suite at the end, a thematic run of the ups and downs of drug indulgences. If, following the rest of Jilted Generation, there were still doubts that ol’ Liam was just a one-trick production pony, this trilogy firmly proved otherwise. The evening starts chill and relaxed with acid jazz vibes of 3 Kilos, then we’re flying high into blissy energy with Skylined. Oh dear, we took too much, feeling that Claustophobic Sting, twisted acid and sketchy paranoia setting in as “my mind is going”. Where the fuck is that sinister laughter coming from! When folks bemoan The Prodigy just aren’t as good as they used to be, the Narcotic Suite is always one such example why, Howlett never recreating something of this nature since.

The same can be said for Jilted Generation as a whole, the album a clear bridge from where The Prodigy started to the next stage of their act. It could have resulted in a messy, hodge-podge LP of uncertain genre tests. Instead, it’s some of the best work of their career.

The Tragically Hip - Day For Night

MCA: 1994

For the past twenty-five years, it was every Canadian rock lover's patriotic duty to enjoy The Tragically Hip. You really had little choice in the matter, Canadian Content legislature forcing a high percentage of national acts onto our airwaves - the more popular a band got, the larger chunk of that percentage they'd take up. As The Hip typically offered a brand of alternative bar rock that was quite easy on the ears, they were a safe bet for radio playlists. With each subsequent album released, their classy reputation and Canadian fame grew, hitting the perfect middle-road of rock 'n roll that wasn't too heavy, wasn't too wimpy, and rewarded fans with excellent live shows. So the story goes, I am told.

Yeah, I can't say I was bitten by the Tragically Hip bug, though was exposed to them when their third album, Fully Completely, started making the rounds among my peers and adult-folk alike. I specifically recall a classmate getting in trouble for wearing a t-shirt sporting the cover art, on account it had a boob on it, albeit mangled Picasso-like. He thus had to either wear no shirt the rest of the day, or go home.

Well, if The Tragically Hip are hip enough to force a day’s suspension, I had to check out that Fully Completely CD in my old man's collection. It was okay, quite similar to the music I heard from my Dad's practice sessions, but totally not my thing at the time (ooh, Dance Mix '93 is out!). To this day, that assessment stuck, and now that I'm forced to sit down and listen to another of their albums, surely my matured tastes have finally found enjoyment out of these Canadian icons.

I guess. Day For Night's considered The Hip's best overall album, combining their dependable alternative blues-rock style with craftier song writing, broader topics, and even new sonic tricks for flavor. The opener and big hit off here, Grace, Too, plays to their anthemic capabilities, a casual pace of rhythmic harmony building upon itself as singer Gordon Downie relates a simple tale of an urban rendezvous between a rich man and an unsuspecting young woman. What does this interaction lead to? Downie leaves it a mystery, as he does with many other narratives throughout the album (though seldom as ear-wormy as Grace, Too).

Most consider Downie's lyrics the highlight of Hip tunes, but I struggle getting into them – he strikes me too much of a Michael Stipe sort. As with most rock, I’m more interested in the music itself, and Day For Night features a few neat tweaks to the alt-rock formula. Johnny Fay adds a cool filter to his drum kit in Thugs, droning guitar feedback envelops the acoustic Titanic Terrarium, and any chance the band gets to rock out (Fire In The Hole, Nautical Disaster, An Inch An Hour) is A-okay in my book. Shame they don’t go the lengths Crazy Horse does though; maybe live they do?

Front Line Assembly - Millennium

Roadrunner Records: 1994

Bill Leeb swears it wasn’t a bandwagon jump, but it’s hard not to suspect so. Industrial rock was gaining traction within the rock world at large, an intriguing alternative for those burned out by grungey alternative rock clogging up the airwaves. It also didn’t hurt all those weird, piercing electronic noises made perfect soundtracks to cyberpunk movies and CD-ROM games (oh, early ‘90s…), a perfect bridge for the technologically savvy and metal-head types out there. Still, I’m willing to give him the benefit of doubt, he and Rhys Fulber taking Front Line Assembly out of the realms of pure EBM and closer to proper-rock territory. Their sound was due for a shake up, EBM coming off a tad dated in the wake of Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral.

Oops, I’m getting ahead of myself. Just in case you aren’t aware (hi, post-Silence Delerium fans!), Front Line Assembly was Bill Leeb’s main music project for a good decade before a side project of his grew even more popular. Along with Skinny Puppy (of whom he was once a member), Front 242, and Nitzer Ebb, he was instrumental in developing electronic body music as a dancier, purely electronic off-shoot of industrial. It gained popularity in underground clubs and the seedier side of dance culture, but as all things born of the ‘80s, the scene eventually fizzled out in the ‘90s as bands moved onto industrial rock or aggrotech (industrial techno!). Front Line Assembly were no exception, Millennium being their own take on guitar-infusion body music.

Only they kinda cheated in the process, sampling and replaying heavy metal riffs from Pantera, Sepultera, and Ministry as a complement to their EBM rhythms. Well, if that’s the way they’re gonna do it, may as well take from musically compatible sources. Ministry were already considered an industrial group (though more heavy rock than EBM or thrashing metal), while Pantera and Sepultera were incredibly groove-orientated with their riffage; a perfect complement, then.

It doesn’t always work, as tracks like Vigilante and Division Of A Criminal are too far outside of Front Line’s EBM comfort zone to sound like anything other than wonky attempts at industrial rock on their part (and let’s not get into the woeful go at ‘industrial-rap’ on Victim Of A Criminal). Nay, this fusion truly flies when we’re still dealing with good ol’ soaring synths, blistering electronics, thrilller movie samples, and those gloriously over-the-top, operatic, ear-wormy melodic passages; the cathartic bliss in the mechanized rage. I honestly can’t take it seriously (am I supposed to?), but it sure is fun getting swept into Leeb’s distorted, menacing singing in This Faith, Search And Destroy, and Liquid Separation. Plus, those chugging, funky guitars sound great in Surface Patterns, Plasma Springs, and titular cut Millennium.

At best, this album’s an experiment on Front Line’s part at taking their sound in a different direction. It doesn’t always hit (God, Victim is so stupid), but when it does, it ranks high among anything Leeb and Fulber’s made over the years.

Beck - Mellow Gold

Bong Load Records: 1994

Now who the Hell is this guy all of a sudden, and what's with this hit single Loser? It's got a hip-hop beat going for it, and Beck's even rapping on it, but there's bluesy, country twang making up the hook. And his appearance on the back of Mellow Gold, that's grunge wear, me bucko. It just don't add up! Awesome song though. It also propelled Beck from an utterly unknown entity to overnight star, practically sustaining his wild and wonky musical career as a result.

Loser remains Mr. Hansen's top charting single, even though follow-up albums like Odelay and Sea Change were overall better selling LPs compared to Mellow Gold. Come to think of it, there weren't any other successful chart-topping singles off this album either. Uh oh, Beck's debut is one of those albums, isn't it - known for that one killer song, and a whole bunch of forgotten filler. Pft, if you honestly believe that, you don't know Beck. Still, for many folks out there coming to Mellow Gold looking for more sing-along anthems like Loser, they were in for a world of confuddlement.

Psychedelic blues is the main name of Beck's game on this album, with liberal amounts of rock, punk, folk, and electronic beat-craft rounding things out. If you're someone who admires song writing, ingenuity, musical skill, and the swagger to pull it all off on a freakin' debut, then Mellow Gold is definitely for you. Despite lacking anything else as immediately catchy as Loser, Beck's diversity of sound is catnip for those into bold music making. There's 'soaked-in-booze' lo-fi mourners like Pay No Mind, Whiskeyclone, Hotel 1967, and Steal My Body Home (hey, who put this acid in my bourbon?), upbeat funk on Beercan and Soul Sucking Jerk, noise freak-outs like Sweet Sunshine, Mutherfucker and secret-song Analog Odyssey, and sunny psychedelic folk-rock like Blackhole and Fuckin' With My Head. Yessir, there's a lot of different kind of music on Mellow Gold, for sure. Unfortunately, that's also its problem.

While this album's supposed to have a running theme of Los Angeles on the skids, it's rather obtuse under all his mumbly-singing. Besides, that's just the blues, man, but for all folks knew, it was also Beck's style, a modern-day blues-smith based out of the City Of Angels. Confounding things further is all the stylistic hopping he does, hobbling any album flow when playing Mellow Gold front to back. It comes off like Mr. Hansen had a ton of musical inspiration and, being the youthful cavalier he was, made any ol' tune that sprung forth from his mind. And if I'm struggling with this album in this regard, I can only imagine the poor folks who only bought it for Loser. Probably left his career in the rear-view mirror post-haste. Ooh, who’s this OMC?

Ah well, who cares about those people. Beck's endured for two decades now, despite never having a commercial success like Loser again. I'm sure he's perfectly happy how things turned out thusly.

Banco de Gaia - Maya (Original TC Review)

Mammoth Records: 1994

(2014 Update:
Bleagh, another super-duper long review from the year 2006. My God, how many of these did I write? True, it was the first proper opportunity I got at splurging my Banco de Gaia knowledge for TranceCritic, but given how many Banco albums I've gone over for this blog now (8 albums and 2 singles!), the opening few paragraphs are incredibly redundant.

What will make this review even more redundant is the fact a limited 20th Anniversary edition of Maya's due to come out this week. Which I've obviously gone and ordered for myself. This isn't as fanboyish as it seems, since it's a triple-disc set (!!) full of unreleased remixes and live takes, plus my original copy of Maya had a digital defect on the final track anyway. At least with this old review up, I don't have to talk about the main album details. I mean, with how much I wrote here, what else is left to say?)


IN BRIEF: Early music from the World Bank.

[The opening paragraph contained unnecessary information, so I've removed it]

Of course, my enjoyment of Banco de Gaia shouldn’t be any secret to steady readers of TranceCritic. I’ve continuously name-dropped him all over the place, and for good reason: Marks’ music has had a significant influence on my tastes over the years. From the very moment I heard Shanti some dozen years ago (a different version, mind, not the one here), I was hooked for life. All those whom I exposed Banco tracks to often came to my same conclusion: the music from the World Bank was entirely in a class of its own, impossible to pigeonhole, and always captivating.

Ah yes, I can see your ‘Fanboy Warning’ alarms already flashing. Perhaps this is why I’ve held off covering any Banco releases for so long. Although we’ll never try to hide the fact any review of music will have some subjectivity, we still try to maintain an element of objectivity as far as our conscience allows. While I’d love to give Maya glowing praise for being a Banco release, the music critic in me can hear the faults and inconsistencies; if we’re to maintain our credibility, I’m going to have to point these out. But before I do that, a brief history leading up to this album (don’t worry, it’s relevant).

Before Maya, Marks was getting known through his association with the Megadog syndicate, often touring along with the likes of Eat Static. He did release a few cassette albums during those years but none could see official distribution due to many uncleared samples. However, this didn’t stop the Banco project from getting tapped for songs to be featured on Beyond’s seminal Ambient Dub series, where Marks’ profile grew exponentially. A full-length was inevitable and, in 1994, it came to pass.

But which audience was Marks to aim for? The Megadog partiers? The fans of his Ambient Dub contributions? Or should he shoot for a broader audience with the larger distribution now available? Maya has a feeling about it that seems Marks was attempting to please all parties involved. As is often the case in this situation, the end result can feel a bit disjointed and uncertain.

Opening track Heliopolis is as indicative of this as any. True, the sweeping vocal samples and exotic atmosphere is definitely a Banco trademark, but everything else comes off flat. The rhythm doesn’t have enough drive to it, and the squelchy arpeggiating synth sounds under-produced for a track where other attributes shine.

Mafich Arabi, one of the few tape-only tracks to be rescued, also has some problems, but at least the rhythm makes up for it in this case. Pretty much a straight-forward funky tribal stompfest, an assortment of drum loops beat away as chants and Middle-Eastern hooks accompany them. The chants are wonderful, easily lodging in your head so you can’t help but join in. The hooks, though, are a bit suspect. I don’t mind them, but if Middle-Eastern melodies aren’t your game, even an infectious rhythm and chant may have trouble drawing you in for the duration.

The dubby, groovy Sunspot is a pleasant diversion, but the violin solo in the middle may be a turnoff, as it sounds like it was thrown in just for the fun of it (really, Marks is good for one of these moments in every album). However, I can find no fault in Gamelah’s approach to trance. It isn’t a high-tempo song, but it doesn’t need to be. The tribal rhythms are brisk enough to groove to, and the combination of chants and spacey, sweeping synths is an effective pairing. Definitely one for the outdoor gatherings.

Still, the ambient dub material was where Banco garnered a large chunk of fans at this point, so Marks treats them to a mellow, dubbed-out bit of bliss with Qurna. Synthy pad washes, tranquil grooves, seaside sound effects, and warm melodies all come together to form a sonic treat for you to lie back to.

The final stretch mostly contains tracks from the Beyond compilations... after a fashion: Lai Lah and Shanti were both remixed for Maya.

Sheesha comes first though. I’ve never been able to grasp what Marks was shooting for in this track. The intro of it shows promise, as many layers of deep, dubby sound effects, samples, and burbly electronics are gradually added. Once the rhythm kicks in though, the plot seems lost. Nothing quite melds together like you’d think it could, and Sheesha ends up wandering aimlessly despite the strengths of the individual components.

Lai Lah, on the other hand, works brilliantly despite all the elements sounding a bit chaotic. Chalk it up to a great rhythm (probably the best on here) and some crafty sample work. A breakdown allows just the strumming samples to play with a recording of a couple’s argument underneath. As this goes on, a mournful synth melody gradually grows in prominence, finally capping off at the end of the argument before being thrust right back into the rhythm. Now that’s a unique breakdown and build!

What Marks does with Shanti may be hit or miss with listeners, as he takes the track into a kind of jam-band excursion. Each element - bassline, rhythms, vocal chants, dubby keyboards, warm pads - gets a chance to play on their own before segueing into the next while white-noise effects pulse in the background. I can see this not being all that interesting if you like your songs focused and compact, but I quite like this. Besides, as far as dubby noodling goes, this is still a relatively coherent go at it. And when the pads do make their appearance towards the end of the Shanti? Yeah... magic.

Finally we end on Maya, a collaboration with Andy Guthrie. Here, Marks gets to show off some of his prog-rock influences as he breaks out the guitar while twinkly bells and all the usual exotic soundscapes fill in the atmosphere. For what it is, this is a decent enough track, and probably one of the more unique ones in this early stage of the Banco life; it’s certainly closer in sound to current offerings than most of what’s been heard on this album.

And that’s probably something to keep in mind should you be new to Maya (the album, that is... damn, but is it ever annoying having title tracks at the end sometimes). If you got into Banco de Gaia after Marks made the project into a fully fleshed-out band, the tracks on offer here seem very simple in comparison - which, truthfully, they are. For the most part, you can hear Marks still playing by dance music’s rules, and it would be another couple years before his song-writing would find the confidence to do things his own way.

Despite this shortcoming, there is gold to be found underneath the rough edges. Some of the melodies on offer are wonderful to behold, and Marks had nailed the ambient dub template almost from the get-go. Maya may not be the most enduring Banco de Gaia album but fans of the project will still find little things about it that will keep them coming back to listen to again and again.

Juno Reactor - Luciana

Metropolis: 1994/2008

It's just what you had to do, back in the '90s. For whatever reason, to be taken as a serious auteur within electronic music, an album's worth of ambient noodling was a necessary addition to your discography. Most of the time it was as a side project, likely in collaboration with Pete Namlook or Dr. Alex Paterson, and Ben Watkins was no exception, getting chummy enough with Mr. Orb to release this here Luciana as a second album. Goodness, shooting for artistic greatness but a year after Transmission. Was anyone even aware of Juno Reactor's existence, beyond the incredibly young goa trance scene?

Maybe not, but ol' Alex had a new label, Inter-Modo, and he needed some fresh material to promote it with. The self-titled album from ambient 'super-group' FFWD was the first and Luciana became the second. The third album was from Autocreation, then the label promptly folded. Huh, guess Dr. Paterson was a might bit too distracted to maintain such a label, the result of which creating incredible scarcity of these three originals, and stupid-inflated prices to procure a copy. Well, until Metropolis fucked things up and re-released Luciana for a reasonable sum of coinage. Weep, oh ye' Juno fans who sprung fifty bones and a leg on Ebay for the original. Weep for our smug amusement.

I do wonder if some did back in the day upon receiving this for overblown value. For as rare as this particular album once was, rare ambient albums are rather common, at least in terms of number crafted, if not quantity released. There’s tons of this stuff out there, and unless you’re a dedicated collector, much of it perfectly skippable. One can only take so much noodly synth pad work and dithering sampling before it all blends together into mushy ambient soup. Maybe if something totally unique went down in the creation of such pieces – say, produced live with ‘70s gear bought second-hand from Tangerine Dream, inside a derelict outpost on Edgeøya at the Spring Equinox – it’d be worth such investment. I rather doubt Luciana is one such example though.

Even for minimalist dark ambient drone, this single track does drag at sixty-one plus minutes in length. It certainly shows Mr. Watkins’ industrial roots, all menacing, brooding soundscapes and disconcerting synths weaving in and out as a pulsing, mechanical throb guides you through a desolate landscape. I imagine this is what would be playing while riding that monorail in Stephen King’s third Dark Tower novel. Occasionally a vocal chant comes out, other times a squealing animal (mutated whale calls?) or a patch of dialog, but by and large the same bleak mood is maintained throughout.

Luciana’s an interesting piece, for sure, and Juno Reactor fans well certainly get a kick out of it, Watkins demonstrating quite a bit of musical potential even at this early stage. Still, it’s little more than an ‘ambient b-side’ to the Juno Reactor discography, hardly a critical item to have for the casuals.

The Future Sound Of London - Lifeforms (EP)

Astralwerks: 1994

Oh yeah, there was also a track called Lifeforms on Lifeforms, which became a single from Lifeforms. Fortunately, I can talk all about Lifeforms on this EP titled Lifeforms, so nothing was lost in bypassing Lifeforms on Lifeforms. This opening is funnier if you read-sing it like Data in Star Trek: Generations. “Lifeforms, you silly little lifeforms...”

Poor Virgin. They go and sign The Future Sound Of London, likely believing the duo a high prize in the early ‘electronica’ sweepstakes. With such a massive hit like Papua New Guinea to their credit, plus oodles more under other guises and remixes, surely the FSOL would put Virgin at the forefront of trendy club culture. Well, nuts to that, said Cobain and Dougans, they wanted to get all conceptual and shit for their major label debut. Fair enough, just make a couple singles available for Virgin to promote and- wait, FSOL are making the EPs themselves? But we had all these remixers planned already: one for the House Mix, one for the Progressive House mix, and one for the Techno Mix. Not even one for the Hardcore Mix? Dammit, FSOL, who do you think you are, artists?

Lifeforms (the track) was about as club-friendly as anything got on Lifeforms (the album ...ugh, this is getting confusing), so tapping it for single duty made sense. As the FSOL preferred turning their EPs into mini-albums in their own right, we’re offered seven different ‘paths’ taken on the Lifeforms idea. Beyond familiar nature sound effects, most of these paths bare scant resemblance to the album version (Path 3). Path 1, for instance, is mostly an ambient affair with water drums, droning industrial synths, and a chant that I don’t recall hearing in the album. Path 2, meanwhile, comes off more urgent and twitchy, throwing in different acoustic and wind instruments as a tense bassline bubbles and builds underneath – it rather sounds like an extended incidental moment from the album, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if that was the case.

Path 4 and Path 5 are the real highlights though. Both are refined takes on Life Form Ends (itself an alternate version of Lifeforms on Lifeforms), each exploring the expansive soundscapes FSOL enjoy indulging in, all the while excellent drum programming keeps things moving at a brisk pace. It’s the Papua New Guinea template taken to another level, if not in dancefloor effectiveness, then in conceptual execution (God, does that ever sound pretentious).

Path 6 serves as a minor interlude repeating sounds heard in the prior couple paths, and Path 7 bookends the EP with a similar tune to Path 1, but with more sounds and beats added from the other tracks. So a tidy conclusion to Lifeforms, the EP, and though not as varied as Lifeforms, the LP, it makes for a worthy companion piece. Kind of a closer study of some specific organisms you might have encountered while travelling the weird, wild world FSOL created with the album proper.

The Future Sound Of London - Lifeforms

Virgin Music: 1994

The Future Sound Of London always struck me as an odd group, and as I didn't come around to them until their Dead Cities period, I had some catching up to do. The club-friendly material off Accelerator was an easy introduction to the sounds they were capable of, but Lifeforms seemed daunting. A double-LP with nary a recognizable hit in the tracklist? Goodness, what's a young raver taking his first, tentative steps into this weird, wide electronic music world to do? I mean, this must be a good album, if all those old-schoolers are loving it, though they don't talk of it as much as Papua New Guinea or We Have Explosives. Still, really cool looking cover art...

So yeah, Lifeforms was the last of the First Three FSOL albums I picked up, but it wasn’t that long after getting the other two; thus, I’ve had plenty of time to listen, re-listen, analyze, contemplate, and understand Dougans and Cobain’s weird ambient opus. I’m still working on that. For that matter, who isn’t? I wouldn’t go so far as to say Lifeforms is a hopelessly complex piece of abstract music, as the basic concept is straight-forward enough: raid all the nature sample libraries, mesh it with ambient house and trip-hop of the day, take a ton of drugs [citation needed], and see what springs forth from the muse.

Even that doesn’t seem too far removed from what The Orb was doing, but whereas Dr. Patterson had a playfully chill outlook to his music, FSOL have larger ideas on mind. I honestly don’t know if this was their intent, but the concept in Lifeforms I’ve gleaned over the years is each disc tells a different story of evolution: CD1 the primordial growth to complex organisms, CD2 the arrival of higher intelligence and future-shock technology.

I’m risking turning this review into a graduate thesis, so I’ll make my explanation brief. Aside from the interlude Bird Wings, disc one typically has natural sounds running through it: gentle washing pianos, tribal drums, bells, un-manipulated chants and animal calls. The clincher, however, is the benign nature of the music on this first half. Lovely melodies in Cascade, haunting synths in Ill Flower and Dead Skin Cells, and even a sense of innocent playfulness in Flak and Among Myselves. The Garden of Eden is a wonderful place to be.

Not so in disc two. As almost a parody of advancing intellect, FSOL open with a brief, ominous version of Pachelbel’s Canon and Gigue in D Major. From there, harsh bleeps emerge in Spineless Jelly, and we’re on our way into a dystopian outlook of nature for the duration. True, there are lovely moments still found (Omnipresence, Elaborate Burn), but always coupled with aggressive electronics. We’re a far cry from the tranquility of CD1.

It makes Lifeforms no less captivating, even if many of the interludes are just effects wibble. Check it out, and discover what weird things come to your mind.