Nelly Furtado - Folklore

Dreamworks: 2003

You namedrop one Canadian pop singer, and the CanCon Commission comes knocking at your door. “How come you're reviewing a Japanese pop starlet, but not one of our own?” they ask. Look, chaps, I think I've been quite fair in my mandatory Canadian content. Why, I've even given two hip-hop acts that aren't Drake some shine here. Besides, R&B and pop really isn't my area of expertise, so...

“Nope, you're reviewing at least Nelly Furtado's first three albums, and if not, we're sending you to the Ellef Ringnes Island gulag.”

(Disclaimer: re-enactment – may or may not have really happened!)

Nelly Furtado was undoubtedly one of my country's biggest stars at the turn of the century. Not only popular enough to go multi-platinum on her debut, but managed to re-invent herself into a damn phenomenon, truly becoming a global star. By alphabetical decree, however, I'm starting with the record between those two flashpoints, the so-called sophomore slump of Folklore. Aww, c'mon, guys, it ain't that bad, really.

Following her breakout, however, she was something of an in-demand vocalist. Paul Oakenfold tapped her. Swollen Members tapped her (at the height of their popularity, no less). For most though, it was appearing on the remix of Missy Elliot's Get Ur Freak On that showed and proved she wasn't some one-hit wonder. That Nelly could hang with the pop world elite. Logic dictated that she should pursue that particular audience, maybe even work with Timbaland in an official capacity. Instead, she stuck with her original production crew (alt-rockers Philosopher Kings alum Brian West and Gerald Eaton) for an album that's, well, diverse, if nothing else.

There's no denying the album sounds big and bold, unafraid to toss whatever influence strikes Nelly's interest into the pot. Opener One-Trick Pony has a bit of folksy twang, follow-up Powerless throws in more Mediterranean influences (gotta' show those Portuguese roots), Explode aims for something more clubby with brisk rhythms and heavier low-ends, and Try... ah, there's the radio-friendly adult contemporary song I've heard for the last two decades.

All well and good, but I get why regular folks may not have connected with all the genre dalliances, especially when few offer quite the earworms Ms. Furtado had sang before. C'mon though, how can you not get a silly grin on your face hearing her crack up on the blues singalong Saturdays with Jarvis Church?

Adam Beyer & Speedy J - Collabs 100

NovaMute: 2003/2021

Is this finally the end, my friends? Have we come the conclusion of these Speedy J reviews, the Collabs series all that remains? Well, of what I got from that initial Bandcamp bulk buy, yes. Wouldn't you know it though, Jochem added a couple more singles after the fact, a two-EP run as The Melody. Not to mention everything else he's released from 2010 on. Can't say I'm inclined to complete the total collection at this point, well and truly sated on all things Speedy J for now. Well, maybe that Nice EP - I like it whenever Mr. Paap throws actual melody into his tunes, even if only back in the day.

Yeah, I don't think there's any beating around the bush in knowing what we're in for here. To this day, Adam Beyer is known as that uncompromising dude rinsing out uncompromising techno, making a tidy business for himself out of it. This came out in the early days of that movement, before everything went completely M_nus minimal, Beyer and his cohorts at the top of this european techno domain. As Speedy J's Loudboxer was part of this movement, its natural that he'd work with these lads in churning out a few records here and there. Collabs 100 was the first, picking up right where the Loudboxer singles left off.

Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure where Adam Beyer ends and Speedy J begins with these two cuts. I'll grant this is more to do with the unfamiliarity I have with Adam's general body of work, knowing him more for his aesthetics than particular production tricks. I'd assume the little bit of body movin' bassline in Sjab is his contribution, as I don't recall many of Jochem's music containing something like that. It's certainly repetitive enough to fit the Beyer mold. Does that mean the industrial clanking and sketchy synth stabs are Speedy's work? Why am I even psycho-analyzing such a relentlessly boshing track? This is straight-up 4am warehouse workout music, pummelling from the get-go, going full bore for a good eight minutes, save a requisite mid-track breather. There's a few fun flange moments towards the end, and provides a nice minute-long wind-down, leading me to believe Sjab was strictly constructed as a set ender. I mean, what else could you follow such an intense track up with?

A b-side called Basj, I guess, though obviously not in the same set. Or maybe in the earlier portions of said set. Regardless, it's not as bang-on as Sjab, actually somewhat subtle in comparison. What it really reminds me of though, L.S.G.'s The Train Of Thought! It's the sporadic splashes of dubby echo, y'see, not to mention just how frenetic the rhythms sounds, not much removed from Oliver Lieb's tech-trance opus. For sure this is still firmly in techno's domain, but considering how unmelodic and stale the genre would soon become, hearing something like this is quite nice indeed.

Speedy J - Tanga

NovaMute: 2003/2021

I've pretty much covered the bulk of Speedy J's '90s output now, at least that which he's re-issued through Bandcamp thus far (still no Oil Zone single?). Yet somehow, most of his post-Loudboxer material has eluded my orderly queue. All those Collabs singles, I get, since I didn't start this discography dive into Jochem Paap's works until after wrapping up another clutch of 'C' releases. The two other Loudboxer EPs though? Just... what were the odds?

Actually, calling Tanga and Bugmod singles spun off Loudboxer is generous. Yeah, they both use the familiar Designer's Republic art on their covers, but neither track appeared on the album proper. Maybe some loops were available in the vinyl edition of Loudboxer? I wouldn't know, because I haven't heard that double-LP featuring two-hundred locked grooves for discerning DJs with playful and inventive minds. All I can say for certainty is there ain't no Tanga, Tannga, Taanga, or Tangga featured around Loudboxer. It just didn't make the cut.

I almost wonder if Tannga could have made it regardless. We're still in a full-bore, head-down, 4am warehouse techno bosh here, which is what you'd expect from an EP aping similar cover art from an album full of the stuff, but this track is nearly eleven minutes long! Given Loudboxer was all about the quick mixes in service of keeping the party on the up-and-up, where could this behemoth even fit? Like, sure, a two-minute snippet of those thunderous beats could have slid snuggly in a warm-up or lead-out portion, but the whole track features those elements. Besides, there's something approaching an actual hook here too, a repeating synth squall echoing into the furthest, darkest domains your ears can imagine, with a little filter effect keeping each loop twisted until all you hear is its trailing reverb. Yes, compared to the relentless rhythmic action of Loudboxer, that constitutes a hook!

Taanga is basically the dub remix, all drums, slowly building in activity as the track plays out, a couple 'pull it back, bring it back' moments, and a nice lead-out. It's only half as long as Tannga, which isn't surprising since it doesn't make time for the hook (such as it is). Meanwhile, Tangga is the... ambient techno version? Whoa, going a little retro there, are ya', Speedy? Okay, it's only 'ambient' in the sense there isn't an omnipresent thudding kick through the track. Plenty of percussion, mind you, but a bit muted and flanged out with reverb, echo, and delay effects, I guess making this the Proper Dub remix. You can even hear an urgent little hook underneath it all, building its way out from underneath the rhythmic clatter. Considering I had Tanga pegged for just carrying on from Loudboxer's genre purism, it's nice hearing a reminder that Jochem could go back to more experimental techno, if he was so inclined.

And that's a wrap with Speedy J at this end of the alphabet! However, we're not quite done with Mr. Paap down here...

Various - Chilled Kutz IV

(~): 2003

Track List:
1. Jam & Spoon - Garden Of Eden
2. Swayzak - Illegal
3. Kitaro - Silver Moon
4. The KLF - Chill Out
5. The Future Sound Of London - Amoeba
6. The Future Sound Of London - A Study Of Six Guitars


If anyone wonders where the f' The KLF's Chill Out is in my collection, th'ar she be, lodged among a pile of unrelated tunes. I wanted the seminal piece of plunderphonic ambient, but good luck finding a copy of the CD while living in the hinterlands of Canada. I actually came across it at a university kiosk once, back when it wasn't so highly sought, but passed due to a lack of cash-money on my person at the time. Good thing those P2Ps can find rare stuff, and Chill Out wasn't hard either. Now looky here, someone ripped the full album as one, singular track, which makes sense as the whole thing mostly plays out as a long singular track, capturing the vibe of a long, singular trip on a long, singular train-track. Or driving by one.

What else can even be said about this record? While the notion of a 'chill room' in rave circles did exist, it wasn't until The KLF put a prominent stamp on it that chill-out as a genre properly took hold. Of course, they called it 'ambient house' then, because everything was either house, techno, or ambient at the time. Some freestyle too.

What set Chill Out apart from all the stodgy Eno clones or Berlin-School synth wizards was how grounded everything was, meditation music for the common man and mentally gassed raver. Not just New Agey calm pads and pastoral field recordings, but slide guitar blues and entrancing throat singers. Radio DJs getting you hype, but as heard from somewhere else, a memory of before the party started. Bill and Jimmy were crystal clear in their manifesto with Chill Out, the perfect sonic soother for your sketchy Sunday needs. Skychurch music for the loved up generation.

Naturally, all the other tracks I smashed into this Chilled Kutz look woefully out of place. Well, not so fast. While Kitaro and Swayzak have no place here, that Garden Of Eden from Jam & Spoon ain't so bad, very much on a '70s space rock vibe (are we sure they didn't sample Pink Floyd?), and a nice prelude to Chill Out. Meanwhile, Amoeba from FSOL segues remarkably well from The KLF, its sputtering choir pads and hazy drum loops maintaining the come-down mood. I suppose Study Of Six Guitars is fine as a closer, but I've heard it utilized better elsewhere.

Oh, I guess this explains why I never got ISDN either. Yeah, I only grabbed a few tracks off that album and scattered them about my burned CDs, and felt it enough a representation of the FSOL record to not bother buying a proper copy. I really should rectify that. It's certainly much cheaper than Chill Out these days.

Various - Balance 005: James Holden

EQ Recordings: 2003

So this was one of the big ones. Even if the music didn't hold up (spoiler: it does), it cannot be denied how much James Holden's contribution to the Balance series marked a prominent shift in the way the prog-house series, um, progressed. Prior, each volume mostly stuck with the dark, tribal prog of the era, save a single CD flirtation of prog-breaks by Phil K. After, Balance became known as the premier DJ mix series, where disc jockeys could indulge themselves with unconventional sets. Not to say that happened all the time, but such a rep started here.

Beyond that though, James' set marked a radical shift in the scene at large, ground zero for a splintering that would be felt for much of the next decade. Not only did Balance 005 firmly state the old Bedrock Records sound was done and dusted, but gave us a taste of what was to come. Obviously the Border Community style from Holden and his cohorts is what gets prominent focus here, but there's ample examples of the sort of prog folks initially expected of James, and got co-opted by Coldharbour instead. Grumbly basslines, side-chained melodies, poppy vocals, and whatnot.

Nowhere is this more apparent than right in the middle of CD1. Leading up, there's still a sense of the dark, dubby prog lurking about, even if a track like Petter's All Together enjoys throwing some robo-clank into the mix. Infusion's rub on JASEfos' Do What U Want is pure proto-McProg though, with a big vocal supported by a rumbly groove, the sort of tune you'd almost expect Holden to lead into his own Nothing (93 Returning Mix). Instead, it goes into the twee electro-fuzz of Nathan Fake's Outhouse (Fluffy Mix), its rhythm nothing more than twitchy clicks n' pops. And while the more traditionally thumping original version follows, this debut from Fake is basically what Border Community would heavily promote for much of its run. As I say, quite the little moment of contrast in hindsight.

Anyhow, disc one plays out with more of this push-pull between old-prog and BC-prog. Cannot deny I tend to favour the old (mmm, PQM cut), but Holden ends things off pleasant enough. CD2 kicks things off with some sleaze house in Meek's Happy (because electroclash was still kinda' a thing in 2003), then we're right back into more dark, dubby prog, with twinkly melodies sprinkled about (Epsilon 9's Lifeformation; Ficta's Eli; Kosmas Epsilon's rub on FC Kahuna's Hayling ...why does it sound like my CD's skipping during the breakdown?).

There's some bits and bobs of other sounds thrown in (acid in his own The Wheel, future-shock electro in Carl Finlow's Ghetto Server ...was Anthony Rother not available?), and Holden takes a long lead-down for the finish, each track growing ever more chill and Border Community-ey after the other. I honestly find my attention drifting, but only because the mid-set peak was so high. I'm not ready to come down yet, Mr. Holden!

Various - fabric 11: Swayzak

Fabric: 2003

When last I talked up Swayzak on this here bloggity-bloog of mine, I made passing wonderment over how their fabric mix sounded. In fact, I wanted to start a proper dive into their discography, and figured rounding up the rest of their DJ mixes would make for a good start. Um, this is about it. Yeah, Misters Brown and Taylor weren't really all that interested in the commercial mix CD market, and judging how their two primary outings fare, it's not hard to hear why: they just can't be fussed with the technical aspects of DJing.

For sure they can do all the blending and syncing and balancing if they want to - Groovetechnology V1.3 had plenty of sublime minimalist mixing going on. Sometimes though, a tune deserves to be played out in full, with a transition into something so different it defies anything other than a crossfade, so long as the music remains thematically consistent. Such is the domain of the mixtapes and third room 'chill' zones, of which Swayzak was quite familiar with in the early '00s.

Not that the fabric brand hadn't shown wilful genre hopping in the past, though that was more the purview of the Fabriclive offshoot. The mainline series generally stuck things out with tech-house in its early years, with occasional dalliances into deep house, electro or techno. Swayzak's offering was the first time fabric really stretched beyond such narrow confines, bringing in micro-house, disco punk, reggae dub, and even proto-fidget under one mix. Which probably isn't that big a deal, since we're still quite early in the series' lifespan, and couldn't ignore Fabriclive's eclecticism for long.

Cheekily, Swayzak open things up with a little Negativland, with the cheeky sampling of a doomsday cult rattling off all the evil rock bands of the era (which Fatboy Slim cheekily nicked himself). Michael Jackson, Tina Turner, Prince, Madonna, Billy Idol, Neil Young, David Bowie, Queen, Adam Ant, Billy Joel, The Police, Huey Lewis, “Weird” Al, and many more... heathens, all!

From there, fabric 11 carries on about as you'd expect of a Swayzak set from this era, chaps like Luomo, Mathew Jonson, and Akufen making the rounds. Midway though, things take a turn for the mixtapey, Röyksopp's slinky, dreamy rub on Felix da Housecat's What Does It Feel Like? played out in full. Then it's a crossfade to Rockers Hi-Fi's Push Push (yay!), blending into... Hey, Ciccone Youth! I recognize that name! Anyhow, here's LCD Soundsystem's homage to aging hipsterism, Losing My Edge, played in full.

Things kinda' jump all over the place afterwards, with sorta-electro (MMM's Donna), sorta disco punk (DFA's rub on Metro Area's Orange Alert), sorta-actually '80s synth-pop (Thomas Dolby's One Of Our Submarines), finally finishing off with ultra-twee bell-house from März. Pantha Du Prince likely heard this. They're fine tunes, but I can't deny hoping for something more consistent for a finish. Hard to top Losing My Edge though. Set peaked too soon!

Týr - Eric The Red

Tutl/Napalm Records: 2003/2006

I couldn't settle for just one Týr album. Unlike some of their Scandinavian brethren, however, the Faroe islanders don't have quite so robust a discography, only eight albums over twenty years. But if Sputnikmusik is anything to go by (I generally trust their opinions regarding metal), they're all of consistent quality, none dipping low, but neither peaking high. Well gosh, if that means I can always expect at least one song on the level of Land, it don't matter which one I nab.

In the end, I went with Eric The Red, mainly because I'm more interested in Norse history than Norse mythology, and Erik Thorvaldsson was indeed a real dude. If the tales of his exiles and exploits are embellished a little into song, that's all well and good. This isn't such a bad starting point for folks getting into Týr either, the band's first album with their most consistent roster, with Heri Joensen taking on full lead vocal duties.

Seeing as how Land came out half a decade after Eric The Red, I figured this album wouldn't be as epic or richly produced, the band still in the process of finding their footing. Nope, Týr comes in as finely polished as you could hope for a prog-metal band from a tiny cluster of islands (very good, is what I'm saying). Opener The Edge immediately hits you with walls of guitars, nifty drumming, a confounding time-signature, and Heri bellowing suitably grand, poetic lyrics about Viking things. While the mixdown isn't quite as full as heard on Land, the bass a bit buried under the guitars, its still crisp and clear, especially compared to some of the other examples of Viking metal I've heard from this era.

All well and good, but Týr's use of traditional Faroe folk music was what helped set them well apart from their contemporaries, and second track Regin Smidur gets in on that kick-ass metal chant. I haven't a clue what they're saying, but I don't care, quite eager to get in on that heavy bellowing action. Preferably with a stein in hand, banging on a table with equally inebriated Norse folk. Wait, isn't that an Irish cliche? Speaking of, it's weird hearing the Irish standard The Wild Rover on here. Týr perform it well enough, and I suppose the Faroe Islands had just as many folks of Celtic heritage as Norse migrating there over the centuries. Still a surprising moment of levity from a band that's generally all about the epic tales.

And epic tales are continuously told for the remainder of Eric The Red. Some of it sounds more like regular ol' metal rather than prog or folk inspired (especially the solos), but I'll allow it, Týr clearly still discovering just how far they can push things. The only thing that brings this album down is the inclusion of two bonus demos in the reissue, ending things on an unfortunate limp note when the titular song served as a fitting closer. Ah well.

Various - Breakz & Bass 2

(~): 2003

Track List:
1. Waveform - D-Tox
2. Banco de Gaia - How Much Reality Can You Take? (Jack Dangers Remix)
3. Waveform - Deep Dubz
4. Waveform - The Joint
5. Brainiac - Neuro
6. Polar - Out Of Range
7. MISTiCAL - Spiritual Thing
8. Waveform - Proteus 4
9. Waveform - Drifter
10. Waveform - New Frontier
11. The Youngsters - Slow

So I made a series centred around all the broken beats I'd been AudioGalaxy-ing. Somehow, this second volume survived, while whatever I had featured on the first has completely slipped from my memory, to say nothing of whatever stack of burned CDs I once had unlabeled and tossed in a dusty corner. Looking at this track list, clearly it wasn't a concept with much going for it, but it wasn't my fault. All those breaks and jungle recommendations in the back pages of Muzik Magazine were just so hard to find on the P2P services so many moons ago.

That can't be the whole story though; look at all those Waveform tracks! I must have heard one or two somewhere, and just had to hear more, is that it? Hah, no. I was looking for Waveform Records tracks, and the Mike James project was what happened to turn up with the highest results. I suppose it's a comprehensive summation of his nu-skool breaks side-project, nearly half of his lone album represented here (some obviously pilfered from DJ sets – oh God, that's Hybrid's Kill City coming in on Drifter, isn't it?), plus downright obscure Waveform joints like Proteus 4 and The Joint. Some of it is pretty good for the genre in its infancy, but you can also hear the telling signs of stagnation even this early on, tracks more fascinated with big bass sounds than anything else.

Elsewhere, breaks get extra representation with Brainiac's Neuro, which sounds like it barely missed the cut in the Wipeout: Fusion soundtrack. Also, there's that Jack Dangers rub on a Banco tune again. Hey, I had no idea if I'd ever find a version of it, so you can forgive a little underhanded gathering. Polar and MISTiCAL bring the d'n'b vibes in fine form, so not much else to add there. I'd forgotten Calibre-Intalex-ST Files project went this far back, much less that I'd raided a tune from their Mistical Dub EP

Then there's The Youngsters' Slow, initially the B-side to the Abusive Melody single, then the opening track to their debut Lemonorage album. And here I am using it as a closing track on a 'breaks and bass' compilation. What kind of track even is this? It's quirky for sure, with a hoppity-skippity rhythm and spritely, bubbly synths bouncing along as a backing pad gradually builds the tension. Almost sounds like something that could have come out on old Warp or Rephlex. It doesn't really fit with the overall vibe of this CD, but then isn't your closer supposed to be the last bit of indulgent leftfield music anyway?

Ott - Blumenkraft

Twisted Records/Ottsonic Music: 2003/2012

I've mentioned before how this album was a no-brainer as a pick-up. A psy-dub debut album from one of the major players and formulators of that genre? How could this be anything less than great? Oh, there's ways, but fortunately for us, Blumenkraft doesn't go down that road. Really, its only sin is that it came out when the genre was still relatively young, and hadn't showed us its full potential yet. Yes, I'm legitimately calling Ott's debut rather basic, but only because his follow-up Skylon was such a massive leap forward in his songcraft abilities.

Make no mistake, Blumenkraft is still a solidly produced album, possibly among the best psy—leaning items released that year that didn't carry an Ultimae tag. There's much heavier focus on reggae-dub rhythms and world beat tropes though, more than newcomers to the Ott discography may expect. That's not really a fault, just a matter of fact when it comes to this music at the time. All was in transition, the Shpongle influences on the verge of spawning off copy-cats that would follow in the ensuing decade, but not so much that it was unmistakably everywhere. Yet, given his prominent role in many of Simon Posford's projects to this point, you'd understandably think an Ott album would be just as culpable of this too.

Perhaps that's why Blumenkraft is so rhythm-heavy, with less of the wordly sounds and psychedelic samples as found in Ott's earlier collaborative projects. He felt the need to distinguish himself from the Shpongle stuff brimming with instruments and melodies. Or maybe it just seems that way in hindsight, what with his future albums brimming with instruments and melodies as well. This isn't to say Blemenkraft lacks in such things, they just aren't so prominent. Whenever some organ, flute, or melodica solo joins in the fun, they don't leap out from the mixdown, the jaunty drums or frenetic jembe action with trippy effects stealing the spotlight.

Really, the few times Blumenkraft sounds like the future Ott is when he gets some vocal action going. At nearly thirteen minutes in length, opener Jack's Cheese And Bread Snack has plenty of time to indulge spoken word passages with chants and sitars, but third track Splitting An Atom really gets in on that bouncy bhangra beat. It's just a shame we don't get any more of that until final track Smoked Glass And Chrome, a wonderfully opulent tune with a blinder of a vocal that could fit snugly in any portion of Skylon. It almost puts the rest of Blumenkraft to shame, leaving me wondering why the rest of the record couldn't have been to this standard?

I get building to a big crescendo and all, but surely something just as brash and bold lodged mid-album would have truly sent Ott's debut into classic status. Instead, Blumenkraft is simply remembered fondly for its time, a strong opening statement from a producer who would go onto bigger and better things down the road.

Solar Fields - Blue Moon Station

Ultimae Records: 2003/2008

For the longest time, this was my number two album from Magnus. Heck, maybe even number one? Mutual tie with Movements, at least. Regardless, it came bundled with most of Solar Fields' albums in a vintage Ultimae Records bulk deal, and when I played them all, Blue Moon Station stood out the most to me. I can't recall exactly why, just some loose memory of it easily grabbing my attention through the duration, a dynamic outing compared to his other efforts (Movements notwithstanding). Also, I felt it was the most 'psy-dubby' record in Solar Fields' discography, a major plus in my books. Yet, I haven't listened to Blue Moon Station since the first time I alphabetically cycled through my music collection, nearly a decade ago now. What gives?

Likely because I've given all his other albums more spins in the intervening years, determined to win me over in the same manner as my perceived big two. I needn't return to Blue Moon Station any time soon, because it's greatness is already confirmed, thus could sit on my shelves for special occasions. I think that may have had a negative effect though, its details slipping from my memory, such that I went into it in the here and now having almost no recallection of its musical details anymore. Ooh, does this mean I get to experience Blue Moon Station all over again, as though it were a brand new, undiscovered Solar Fields album?

Sadly, not really, my expectations for what I did remember mostly dashed. For sure I still enjoyed what I heard on Blue Moon Station, it just wasn't the wizz-bang, 'OMG' record I somehow had built within my memory. Like, where in the world did I get it in my head that this was heavy on the psy-dub elements? Some prog-psy, sure, but ain't nothing Shponglely on here, nosiree. I'm assuming it's the opening track, Confusion Illusion, that caused that, erm, confusing illusion of this being an album of psy-dub. There's tribal drums and swirly sounds and ethnic samples, all things you associate with the genre, but not so much Solar Fields.

Nay, we come to a Magnus joint for those ultra feel-good melodies, and Blue Moon Station has them, though not in as high quantity as I recall. If anything, they feel a little restrained, teased out with lengthy, almost empty sounding tracks. Magnetic Air is remarkably spacious, feeling like you're breathing clean, purified atmosphere, followed by an eruptive Majestic Feeling. Ah, there's the opulent Solar Fields stylee.

The album mostly alternates between downtempo pieces and prog-psy numbers, which can leave Blue Moon Station a little jerky in flow to some listeners. Except for the final stretch, after the titular cut. Planet Zoo does something a touch psy-dubby (I wasn't imagining things!), Third Time goes right mellow again, and closer Swimming With Stones goes ultra-mellow. It's all quite nice, but doesn't remain in the ol' noggin quite so well as the earlier cuts. Guess Movements remains top dog, then. It stuck the landing.

Fictivision - Ringworld / Outpost

In Trance We Trust: 2003

Yes, I admit it: it's totally the cover art that drew me to Fictivision's Ringworld. Just the retro feel of it is enticing enough, though being among the most unique images of ITWT's catalogue doesn't hurt either. Like something out of a '70s astronomy book, before we had amazing telescope photography splashing across our pages, relying on the imaginative guesswork of painters.

Arny Bink typically used beauty shots of various Earthen locales and scenery in his photography for the label, giving the early In Trance We Trust releases their distinct character over so many other trance prints of the early '00s. I wonder what inspired him to go so cosmic with Fictivision's debut? Also, did Arny make it himself? The legal details say the artwork is owned by Black Hole Recordings, so maybe so.

Anyhow, I wouldn't have acquired this single if the music within was rubbish – lovely artwork can only take things so far. Fortunately, Fictivision was one of In Trance We Trust's unsung heroes of the label's golden age, each of his singles among the classiest a bloated Dutch scene could offer. Heck, it was his pairing with Phynn on Escape that clued me in that there might still be some worth in a genre I'd long since abandoned. But while his partner would go onto a decent little career of his own, the Fictivision project ended after just four singles.

Instead, the man behind the moniker, Bart van Wissen, focused his attention to producing proggy electro house after, as was the style at the time. I listened to a few of those singles, and they're fine for what they are, but I get more of a kick from his darker, dubbier prog from before the Fictivision years. In any case, a genuine talent that could have offered so much more if he'd gotten a similar break as his buddy Phynn did.

And how does Ringworld go? Right, it's honestly a fairly standard epic trancer with a cosmic bent, including a mild breakdown for the main lead to go a little quiet for a tasteful build. It's still a lead that triggers the Proper Trance synapses in my brain matter though, which can happen provided its not surrounded by a bunch of bollocks. The flipside Outpost is more straight-forward, leaning on that Ton-TB brand of tech-trance that was making the rounds of Black Hole at the time. Not bad, though I've heard better out of Fictivision, including that pairing with C-Quence in Symbols, not to mention another epic cosmic outing in Out Of Orbit, his final release with In Trance We Trust. Man, that's another one I wouldn't mind having. Shame you can't even buy these in MP3 format anymore.

Erm, yeah, full confession I nabbed Ringworld from the Seeker Of Souls, all my regular options exhausted. Still, between his Fictivision stuff, and the material released under his own name, Mr. van Wissen has enough to compile some sort of retrospective on Bandcamp. Would definitely drop dollars for that.

London Elektricity - Billion Dollar Gravy (2020 Update)

Hospital Records: 2003

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)

For some reason, I got it in my mind I'd written that original review a year later than I had. I know, I know, fifteen years on, and the difference is negligible now, but it does say something about the blurring of time within our memories. I recall us folks at TranceCritic delaying our debut d'n'b reviews for a long while, practically as a joke, though not as long as I apparently remember. In fact, beyond a couple key highlights (me realizing I was gonna' have to be more involved than just 'editor' if things were to get rolling; first time receiving promo packages for psy trance; getting snubbed by Paul van Dyk's PR team because of Jack's review of Politics Of Dancing 2; Cobalt drawing the ire of the Cult Of Schulz) much of that first year is basically fuzz now.

But you're not reading this to reminisce with me (well, maybe a couple are). You want to know whether Billion Dollar Gravy holds up after all this time, and whether there's any new insights nearly two decades of passed time can offer. To answer those curtly, yes and no. I mean, it's not like the liquid funk style was in much need of evolution, most of its defining traits and lasting appeal cemented with albums such as this one. Absolutely it could have gone down some different paths along the way, but as is so often the case with the d'n'b scene, stray just a little too far, and you've basically created yet another genre, purists of the old forsaking its offspring. And while the Electronic Music Genre Standards and Classifications Consortium still debates whether 'dancefloor' constitutes its own genre, comparing that stuff to liquid funk of old (yes, including Hospital Records stuffs) does improve its chances. In that 'dancefloor' is generally bollocks, and Billion Dollar Gravy is not.

I won't deny skipping on London Elektricity after this because I feared Tony Colman couldn't resist chasing that cheesy-pap trend. Some of the star acts signed to Hospital Records, like Camo & Krooked, Logistics, and Netsky, hadn't impressed me much (to say nothing of the 'evolution' of High Contrast), so I just assumed the whole of Hospital had gone that route, including the label's founder. A follow-up album called Power Ballads, the hokiest of sentimental aggro-music out there, didn't do much to allay my suspicions either.

Still, I couldn't well do a 2020 Update on Billion Dollar Gravy without at least checking out the latest London Elektricity album, last year's Building Better Worlds. And gosh, is this ever a mellow album. For sure it's still got that liquid funk pep, but more focused on the soul portion of the classic 'fast-soul music' concept. Are his other albums like this? *checks Syncopated City and Are We There Yet?* Huh, so they are, more or less. How about the rest of the Hospital crew, is there some variety there too? *scopes out S.P.Y.* Well, if that don't trigger the nostalgia endorphines, b'gar!

Various - Base Ibiza 2003

Base Ibiza Records: 2003

As the early Hed Kandi brand grew, the temptation to spin off sub-labels couldn't be helped. Aside from Stereo Sushi, however, these didn't take root, folks content sticking to the label and artwork they were most familiar with. The Acid Lounge tried getting in on that underground downtempo gig, with a grittier, pulpier comic stylee, but only lasted a few releases. Then there's this, Base Ibiza Records, a tie-in with the Ibizan bar of the same name. That's... remarkable, that Hed Kandi never really paired up with any established club for a proper residency, instead letting their brand tour about. It wasn't a long partnership though, lasting just half a decade. Base Ibiza 2003 is smack dab right in the middle of the run.

With my last exposure to the Hed Kandi discography a pair of utterly abysmal World Series mixes from much later in their lifespan, these CDs were such a refreshing reminder of the class once associated with the label. House music! Real, honest-to-God house music! With the disco loops and the soul sista's and the fiesta chants and the club monologues and... the trend-whoring remixes and... the euro anthems (?), and the.. cover songs? Wow, they really couldn't clear the rights to X-Press 2's Muzikizum? That track was everywhere, so it couldn't have been that expensive. Why settle for a knock-off version?

Speaking of, you remember what song got huge around this time? Talk Talk's It's My Life, is what, though thanks entirely to No Doubt's cover resurrecting interest in it. Then radio stations started playing the original version again, and folks realized the O.G. '80s style was better (retro revival sure helped). Thus is the only reason I can fathom hearing a Liquid People remix of It's My Life on here. Cool bassline added though. Speaking of basslines, Junior Jack sure did love him some of Daft Punk's Burnin', but hey, throw some Latin vibes over it, call it E Samba, and no one will ever tell the difference!

As should be abundantly clear, I'm not giving Base Ibiza 2003 that much of a serious critical overview. Nor should I, the music within about as deep as the beach shallows of the Ibizan shores. It is fun music though, at least the first disc wherein the disco vibes and garage shuffles and floppin' funk is felt. It's got a StoneBridge remix in there, mang', and you can't have a proper Hed Kandi outing without at least one tune with StoneBridge at the console.

CD2 aims for the 'later in the night' club outing, but is all over the place as a result, sounding like a mish-mash of left-over tunes that just wouldn't fit in the first CD. Some mild McProg (iiO's At The End), a little tech-house (4Tune 500's Dancing In The Dark), and a nod to the burgeoning 'eurotrash house' sound (Andrea Doria's Bucci Bag). Oh, and all those aforementioned cover/remixes are here too. Yeah, I think I'll stick with CD1 in this outing. It's funner!

Various - Back To Mine: The Orb

DMC: 2003

Sure is a nice coincidence that the alphabetical order of my Back To Mine CDs is also in chronological order.

Folks who came around to the series later in its run may have noticed something different about the first couple I've covered. Indeed, when DMC launched Back To Mine, the cover art wasn't too distinctive from many other DJ-featuring compilations out there. Sure, Warren and Seaman were lounging in comfy chairs, while Tenaglia and Armada had cute little lights, but it still felt run-of-the-mill where chill-out CDs were concerned.

Following Faithless' entry, however, DMC commissioned illustrator Tommy Penton to shake things up, giving Back To Mine its distinct, abstract comic look for many years after; I hated that look. Yeah, it was unique, which undoubtedly helped it stand out from overcrowded compilation racks, but gads, the artwork reminds me of bad lucid dreams, not at all feelings of being chill. Whatever happened to the soft, inviting mood lighting?

So I wasn't too keen on picking up more Back To Mines with the art change. Compounding things further was the fact Ultra Records lost the domestic distribution rights after the seventh (Morcheeba's, for the record), leaving DMC to handle it themselves. They... weren't very efficient at it, leading to few copies, if any, found on my local store shelves. And whenever one did happen by at those slightly inflated prices, always was I met with that butt-ugly cover art. You understand why I let the series pass me by, then.

Still, when I heard The Orb had been tapped to head up a Back To Mine, I knew I had to get my hands on that! The O.G. chill-out maestros, who's early sets were well known for unearthing all sorts of weird, blissy records of yesteryear, compiling a CD that's right up their lane? How could this fail? It could not, is how! No, Muzik Magazine and their middling 2/5 score had to be wrong. It... had to be good...!

Back To Mine was primarily billed as showing off one's personal collections, and you'd think chaps like Dr. Alex Paterson and Thomas Fehlmann would have ludicrously deep crates to pull music from. And maybe compared to typical punters of the U.K., that's true, but I was stunned that I already had so many of these tracks in my own collection. Two Aphex Twin cuts, yep. Julee Cruise's go with Falling (aka: the Twin Peaks theme), uh huh. And why on Earth is Juno Reactor's Nitrogen Part 1 on here, and at the third position no less? Okay, Alex helped produce that, but no way does it fit as a 'chill-out' option.

The remaining selections are definitely an eclectic sort of stoner chill and indie-techno, but lacks much of a unifying theme to them. It's as though The Orb rounded up a pile of tracks they happened to like that given month, arranged them in alphabetical order, and called it a day. Who'd want to listen to something like that?

Current - Communion

Origo Sound: 2003

I'll forever (and a day) lament the passing of old-school music shops, but online options have proved a reasonable substitute, and I'm not just talking the vast data-stores of places like Discogs and Bandcamp. No, even small shops like the Ultimae or Databloem sites contain the sort of catalogues that makes browsing through their stock an enjoyable time-waster. True, clicking pages isn't nearly as satisfying as fingering jewel-cases, but beggers can't be choosers. So long as spiffy cover-art catches my eye enough that my impulsive buying nature is sated, it shall suffice.

So it goes with this Communion from Current, an item I picked up from... gosh, I forget now. A psy shop, I remember that much. Anyhow, I knew nothing of this artist, but with a row of alien heads on the cover, how could I resist? The man behind the alias, Robert Solheim, hails from Norway, with this album coming out on Origo Sound, which you may know from numerous Biosphere releases.

This mostly falls under the psy-chill camps, and I must admit a little under-produced for the genre. Maybe if it came out in the '90s, Communion would have stood out more, but by 2003, psy-chill had seen remarkable growth and evolution, and most of the stuff Mr. Solheim's crafting here is strictly middle of the road. There's the slightly dubby tunes (Sunday Sunburn, Alone With Company), songs with a trancier bent (Patterns, Ghost Trip), tracks on a spacier, futuristic tip (No Sign Of Life, Plaza Circular), and cuts leaning closer to trip-hop's domain (Minor Abstraction). Nothing's wack or anything, just music treading well-tread roads. In fact, it sounds incredibly familiar. Something I can't specifically place, but I'm certain I've heard numerous times in the past. It's like... like... Oh my God! This is exactly the sort of music I'd make if I were ever to do the deed. Heck, even the cover art is likely something I'd have gone with! And that puts Communion in a weird spot for yours truly. I'm not sure if I like it because of this, or dislike it for the exact same reason.

Given the amount of music I buy, folks often inquiry why I don't actually make any myself. Truth is, the musical ideas I have sloshing about in my head have been done – if no one else than by me at that moment – and what interests me in music exploration is that which I haven't heard. I want to discover sounds I've never thought of, could never imagine, and prefer leaving that to those who've invested more of their time and skill into the craft than I'm willing to do so. Why waste my time replicating that which I can readily hear elsewhere, and perhaps find new and better in the process?

It's a fascinating conundrum, but perhaps more astounding is that, after so many hours of music listening, this is the first time I've confronted it. Kudos to Current for that feat, if nothing else.

Mark Farina - Air Farina

OM Records: 2003

I honestly can't remember whether Mark Farina's debut album was hotly anticipated or not. Like, I'm sure there was long, gestating buzz over whether he'd ever do the deed, as the discourse is wont to go when it comes to popular DJs. Curating all those class deep house records, groovy downtempo tracks, and funky Chicago-San Fran' vibes, surely had to impress some inspiration upon Mr. Farina such that his muse demanded his own tunes too. And as his career continuously went from strength to strength (Mushroom Jazz, OM Records, Frisco Disco!), the time seemed about right to drop an LP of original music in ye' olde year of 2003.

Yet, I was taken completely by surprise when I saw it sitting in the store that day, having heard not a word about it prior. Part of that was the unfortunate death of rags I was following at the time, but even among music boards I lingered on, I didn't see much hype on Air Farina, nor much talk of it since, and I live around his hottest touring regions. It all seems very odd to yours truly, especially since I quite enjoy the album ...after a time.

Right, my initial reaction to hearing Air Farina's production was utter befuddlement. Farina's trademark DJing sound is of irresistible deep funky house, with sounds and production that warms the soul. This stuff though, it sounds like it was made on a plastic Apple music box, everything ultra-compressed and nary a spot of grit and grime within. I get no sense of Chicago warehouses or California beaches – it's as though Farina took his 'music from airports' concept all the way to the aesthetic level, existing in an artificial reality where nothing seems quite real or lived-in. For sure, once the album gets moving, and the songcraft has its chance to strut its stuff, the production becomes less of an issue. And hey, I cannot deny I've never heard any other album sounding like this, much less within the realms of house music, so Air Farina at least stands out on that merit alone. Whether you dig it or not probably boils down to how much you like Mark's tunes, and as I still don't hear much talk about this album fifteen years on, well...

Interspersed with dialog from pilot training videos (plus a humorous clip from The Phantom), Air Farina plays out in enjoyable chunks, a downtempo jam or two followed up by a run of bumpin' house tunes with ear-wormy vocals samples. There's no denying Marks' skill in making his own house, tunes like Dropped Into Water, Gramma So, and Leaving SF just as infectiously groovy as anything he's rinsed out. Meanwhile, floating chill moments like Dream Machine and dips into hip-hop with People Under The Stairs (Travel) show off his diversity just fine. Just, man... that ultra-plastic production though. I can understand why some are ambivalent towards Air Farina, when all they desire is another Mushroom Jazz session.

Hybrid - Morning Sci-Fi

Distict'ive Records: 2003

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

I'm sure I liked Wide Angle - I definitely know I liked Wider Angle for the Live Angle bonus CD. Unfortunately, a few things held back a love for Hybrid's debut album, none more prominent than a sense the duo's artistic pretensions didn't always match the finished product. They wanted to move beyond the easy club fodder, creating high-culture music for a cultured audience. Cool, bro, but that leaves those who adored the breakbeat science wanting in the wind. How can such folks get their flail on when a French rapper is crooning over a trip-hop rhythm?

I won't deny being in that camp, making me wary of checking anything after Wider Angle. Figured Hybrid would continue the super-sophisticated music explorations, the blinding breaks they made their name on a mere stepping stone to higher, loftier goals in the music world, thus a journey I wasn't much interested in joining with. As continues being the case, I should have got that tree trunk out of my rump sooner, because fuck me if Morning Sci-Fi is better than Wide Angle by a... erm, broad space.

It starts as I initially feared (well, properly starts, discounting the secret song hiding in the CD's negative space), with Hybrid throwing oh-so many ideas into a soup of genre fusion, with production ultra-crisp and clean such that it kinda' neuters whatever teeth the song has. Like, there's things I like in True To Form (can never go wrong with a Reese bass growl, and it's nice hearing those New Order vibes from Peter Hook), but with the obligatory orchestral swells and limp lyrics from Adam Taylor, it once again sounds like Hybrid's clutching for musical opulence they just can't quite grasp.

Then Know Your Enemy hits, and hits fuckin' hard with the progressive breaks action I love from these guys, and all is right again. Then third cut Marrakech hits, and I'm thrown for a loop, the tune some sort of psychedelic trip-hop outing that wouldn't sound out of place in a FSOL Environments LP. Ain't no way that's gonna' get a “most moving pieces of electronic music” plaudit, but it definitely earns an uber thumbs-up from me! And while I prefer Hybrid's instrumentals, Adam Taylor sounds great in I'm Still Awake, the music complementing rather than burying him as though his voice is just another layer in an overstuffed cake.

And goodness, how are there so many kick-ass club tracks on this album? It's not as relentless as Live Angle (obviously it couldn't be), but the block featuring Visible Noise, We Are In Control and Higher Than A Skyscraper gives that CD serious competition. The final clutch of tracks gets back to the lyrical stuff, with Kirsty Hawkshaw providing a full range of octaves on the closer Blackout. This was honestly what I was expecting out of Morning Sci-Fi, but given the highly kinetic, super energetic tuneage that preceded it, by all means, Misters Truman and Healings, have at your sophisticated songcraft.

Sweet Trip - Velocity : Design : Comfort

Darla Records: 2003

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

This is what happens when indie kids discover IDM. Okay, that's not fair, Sweet Trip having debuted with an album that cribbed from acid and jungle drum programming. They were even featured on a couple compilations called Drum & Bliss - what, was Chill & Bass already taken? - and while such a title sounds daft, after hearing their tune Follow Me, yeah, it fits. However, considering their third and final album went full-in with the shoegazey dream-pop, it makes this middle album of Velocity : Design : Comfort stand out all that much more. With fancy production tools and tricks pioneered by ADHD studio rats and IDM wonks far more accessible by the year 2003, such that You Too could create a frenetic glitch-hop schmoze-fest if you so fancied, it seems Sweet Trip fancied it indeed.

I can only imagine the shock older fans had when first throwing this album on, opener Tekka a spastic glitchy, breakcore ditty, leagues removed from whatever 'drum and bliss' business Darla Records initially billed Sweet Trip as. But then it moves onto Dsco, as standard a gentle dance-punk jam as you'd ever hear. Familiar indie territory then, but completely out of sorts from that opener. I cannot deny wondering if this was even the same album, despite all evidence proving it was.

Velocity : Design : Comfort essentially plays out like that for the duration: glitchy IDM stuff, followed by dreamy indie fluff, often within the same track. The rock stuff, I quite like, though as I don't take in much of it in my regular music diet, I've no clue how it stands against the great contemporary dream pop pantheon. In any case, whenever tunes like Velocity, Sept, Chocolate Matter and Fruitcake And Cookies let the indie vibes through (mmm, such lovely vocal harmonies between Roby and Valerie), I'm down.

And that's funny, because I'm not an indie guy – I'm a 'techno' guy. You'd think it'd be all the electronic stuff that tickles my fancy – the twee glitch-hop of International and steady groove of Design : 1 sure do - but there's just so much glitch (just... so much), I too often find it excessively distracting and pointless. Like, all those stutters and fills in the minimalist To All The Dancers Of The World, why do that? The song's fine without them, and they add nothing beyond showing off some technical wankery. Are they there because they can be there? They don't have to be though. Why is this so dense, with so much going on all the time? You had enough sense to leave them out in the dreamy, wall-of-sound climax of the song, so why not the rest?

Hey, to some ears, such wankery is genius. I'm not about to deny them their thoughts. I'm sure that's even part of The Point in this album's concept (it's in the title, mang!). It just comes off needlessly overstuffed to my ears, and maybe even Sweet Trip's too, since they abandoned all that gimmickry when they released their third album. Just sayin'.

Gridlock - Formless

Hymen Records: 2003

Man, talk about a coincidence, two straight album requests featuring breaks cribbed from the IDM camps! Though as this isn't a Patreon request, I can't give a specific shout-out to the requester. Sorry, Philoi. (wait...)

More to the point, this was requested as a bit of book-keeping from the TranceCritic days, an item covered by one of the website's other writers that could use a dusting off for our current clime's. Thing is, I don't recall this crossing our path, nor do I have a back-up of said supposed review. Granted, I don't have every item we published, and this one could have possibly slipped through the cracks, but I'm fairly certain if something this obscure had made it into the TC archives (and my back-ups), I'd have remembered it.

Back to the coincidence, Gridlock wasn't an actual breaks act like Tipper. Rather, they hail from the industrial camps, early adopters of the aggrotech scene (aka: when industrial discovered big-beat ...kinda'). Basically, a lot of noisy beats, angry shouting, with occasional moments of respite in dark ambient dirges. As time went on though, to two Mikes behind the project (Cadoo and Wells) drifted away from the industrial abrasiveness, their music becoming something more common among the IDM camps. They still kept the glitchy, harsh rhythms, but you could find that among breakcore or drill n' bass anyway. What pulled their music into a completely different scene, however, was just how nicely melodic it had all come, none of the menace and macabre of industrial remaining.

Formless was their final album, and serves as a nice capper of their transition from their bleak, early work. The beats are still all crunchy and glitchy and noisy, but so often coupled with charming melodies and pleasing ambient timbre that you almost forget there's a mechanical racket going on in support. What's nice about these beats is they never overwhelm the songcraft, over-indulging with fancy effects to the detriment of whatever musical ideas Gridlock performs. While this is hardly a new idea in the realms of IDM, I haven't heard it done quite the way Gridlock does here. Mind, it's not like I've gone super deep-diving into the realms of IDM, and there are still plenty of moments that have me thinking mid-'90s Aphex Twin (because it always comes back to him in this scene, doesn't it?). For the most part though, Gridlock have found a lane for themselves, and ride it with skill and finesse.

In fact, they stick to that lane so diligently, it kinda' hampers the overall album. Formless is fifteen tracks long, some short interstitial doodles, others breaching the nine-minute mark. Most, however, hover around four-to-six minutes, and while they all sound fine, there's also a noticeable lack of sonic variety too. Industrial beats, ambient techno melodies, and that's about it for the duration. I'm never bored by what I hear, but I cannot deny the mind drifting a little towards album end too. Annoying when the grey matter does that.

Banco de Gaia - 10 Years (Remixed) (Original TC Review)

Disco Gecko: 2003

(2018 Update:
No, I don't have the actual 10 Years compilation from Mr. Marks. I did, at first. I mean, all those classic Banco tunes, plus assorted rarities like the Jack Dangers rub of How Much Reality Can You Take and the Insect Intelligence version of Amber, gathered onto two discs and all. Of course I got myself that! Then I loaned it out to a friend. Never got it back, though to be fair, I didn't push him to return it either. It's not like it was difficult to 'get' the rare offerings again anyway (most of these can be found on the Rewritten Histories collections now), so I was fine letting 10 Years slide from my coffers. I may be a major Banco fan, but I'm not a completist ...he says while reposting a review for a 'completist only' compilation.

This review is pretty rambly for one of my latter-years TC efforts, probably 33% longer than it needs to be. It's like, whenever I got the chance to talk up Banco at TranceCritic, I didn't hold back one iota. The other reviews I wrote for the website - Maya and Farewell Ferengistan - were absolute behemoths in word count. Thank God for self-imposed word count, though I'm oh-so tempted to break that rule whenever I get around to Big Men Cry.)

IN BRIEF: Ten years of tour mates.

For good and ill, the remix album has become an undeniable part of dance music’s legacy. It’s reached a point where they are not only expected, but even counted upon in some circles. I’ve seen several bemoan a lacklustre album-proper only to follow such sentiments thinking “hopefully the remixes will make this better.” Trance alone has several albums packaged with an additional remix disc, not to mention the endless follow-up remix discs for the bigger releases. Despite some of the positives that come with the endeavor - the odd time a remix actually does an original better, or rounding up rare and obscure remixes into a single package - far too often these CDs are cynical, quick money-grabs, milking an artist’s music for every potential penny. Ultimately though, remix albums for electronic music share the same status live albums from rock bands do: potentially interesting, sometimes brilliant, but usually skippable.

This is what makes a remix CD for Banco de Gaia even more peculiar. Toby Marks has consistently shied away from cheap commercial gains, so you really can’t take 10 Years: Remixed as such. On the other hand, it’s not like there's been a plethora of remixes of Banco tunes over the years, most of which are done by Marks himself. Despite some notable names being given the re-rub task (Oliver Lieb, Speedy J, Jack Dangers), the trend has been Banco de Gaia does the best remixes of Banco de Gaia. However, those were already included on the 10 Years proper album.

Which brings us back to 10 Years: Remixed - specifically, what exactly is this release all about? I suppose doing a remix album is justifiable when it’s in conjunction with a retrospective album, but Marks knew full well there weren’t enough in his back catalog for a proper CD. If such is the case, then how about brand new remixes of a bunch of classic Banco tunes? Sounds good to me, only there’s a catch: instead of hiring out big names or scene mainstays, Marks got in touch with a bunch of his musical associates from over the years and gave them carte blanche to go wild. And if you’ve followed his musical career, you’d know the man from the World Bank has had some wildly eclectic associates, though with more of a leaning towards the global-fusion dance beat (obviously).

I guess what I’m trying to say here is only hard-line fans of Banco de Gaia are going to get much out of this release ; par for the course when it comes to remix albums anyway. If you’ve read this far, then you’re obviously a fan (or incredibly curious), so let me tell you what to expect from 10 Years: Remixed.

First, the familiar. Even here at TC, names such as Eat Static, Loop Guru, and HIA (The Higher Intelligence Agency) have crossed paths (er, mainly because of a certain reviewer’s affinity for a certain producer who’s been tied to them), and as such the groups bring their trademark sounds to the tracks they got to remix. HIA turns the obscure proto psy-dub gem Soufie into a clicky ambient-techno piece, Loop Guru ramp up the ethno-dub styling of Sakarya, and Eat Static gives Lai Lah the psy-trance business, but also throws in a bunch of other samples Marks has used in other tracks (I Love Baby Cheesy, Kuos, etc.).

Meanwhile, other psychedelic and dancehall dub mainstays like Temple Of Sound, Zion Train, Dreadzone, Asian Dub Foundation, Future Loop Foundation, and Transglobal Underground lend their hand, with various results. Some are quite the reworkings, such as Temple Of Sound turning Drunk As A Monk from a kind of prog-rock stomp into a brisk neurofunk excursion; or Dreadzone giving the incredibly somber vocal version of Glove Puppet some rhythmic spring (Jennifer Folker still sounds gloriously tragic though). On the other hand, not much is gained or lost in Future Loop Foundation adding dreamy Balearic tones to Celestine, while Zion Train seems at a loss as to what to do with Shanti, providing a brief and rather generic techno -dub tune in the process (honestly, though, would anyone be able to top Marks’ brilliant Black Mountain Mix?); and what exactly is going on in Obsidian? Transglobal Underground’s stomp-dub go at Amber is ace though.

Now, the obscure and unknowns. Well, 100th Monkey isn’t exactly obscure - it's long-time Banco collaborator Andy Guthrie - but certainly not a name you’ll immediately connect with. Since he’s been familiar with Marks’ work over the years, it’s unsurprising he gives Sunspot a great remix - and it’s also a mash-up with Qurna! Elsewhere on the CD, old school industrial group Perfume Tree - here known as Veloce - does a respectable deep-trance rub of Heliopolis, which rates around the Shanti remix in terms of usefulness. It’s the hopelessly obscure Carbomb that brings us the most ‘leftfield’ cut, turning Drippy into a kind of thrash-metal thing - has to be heard to be believed, even more so that it actually works!

*whew* That’s quite the eye-full for the hardcore Banco fan, I must admit, but given the eclecticism and seemingly random order of all these remixes, it could not be glossed over. Well, it could, but that’s not what we here at TC are about. Where am I going with this? Oh, right… 10 Years: Remixed. There’s a few quality remixes here - see below for which - but this CD’s mostly a ‘completists only’ deal. Although it’s interesting to hear different versions, it’s primarily going to be Banco fans that will appreciate them.

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