Bluetech - Prima Materia

Waveform Records: 2003

Psy-dub producer. Regular on the regional festival circuit. Constant pop-up in Recommendation algorithms. Debut album on Waveform Records (kinda'), plus appearances on Interchill Records, Yellow Sunshine Explosion, and Platipus (among many others). For all intents, I should have jumped on a Bluetech album at some point these past fifteen years, but have only done the deed now. Even my old standby excuses of 'over-exposure' or 'genre apathy' don't apply, ol' Evan existing in that sweet lane of familiar-yet-underground producers I prefer cruising among. I can only plead a similar case as with Adham Shaikh, Bluetech a chap I've always intended to scope out proper-like, yet constantly putting off to the back, for a time when I've exhausted all other whims of artist, genres, and label explorations. In other words, I've run out of reasons not to pick up Prima Materia, in that it's the lone remaining album in Waveform's second Golden Period (2000-2005) that I've yet to nab (the Slowdeck LP's out-of-print, sadly).

Once again, the little ambient dub label that could broke another future star of the psychedelic downbeat scene in Bluetech, though that's technically not accurate. True, they gave him his first album deal, after which he'd release LPs through Aleph Zero Records, Somnia, and Interchill, but even this wasn't Evan's first release. That honour goes to Lead Into Gold, out four years prior on the old MP3.com. I doubt it got much attention, though Bluetech was quickly building himself a solid rep' at festivals for a unique, digitally-enhanced take on psy-dub. Less about endless loops of overdubbed samples, and more about technological manipulations as enjoyed by the IDM wonks of scenes not uttered among the aged crusties. A bold new step of psychedelic music-making, for a bold new generation of cyber-hippies, or something.

I won't front: every time I've thrown on Prima Materia, I'm initially put off by the extremely digital nature of Bluetech's sound, coming off quite plastic and thin compared to most psy-dub I hear (and having just listened to a double-LP with the Ultimae Mixdown™, oh dear...). I'll grant it was still new back in the early '00s, such production needing time to mature, but if you're an audiophile that demands old-school analogue richness, you may want to skip this.

As for myself, once my ears acclimatize to Bluetech's aesthetic, Prima Materia ain't too shabby at all. It usually takes three tracks for me to get there, but considering that particular cut is a remix (sorry, 'retriangulation') of the classic Triangle of Sounds From The Ground fame, can you blame a psy-dub brother for being wooed with recognition? As for the rest, all the familiar psy-dub attributes are here (groovy rhythms, ethnic vibes, quirky samples), and Evan's digital manipulations remain tasteful, never getting over-indulgent to the point of nonsense. There's even some sounds that remind me of Phutureprimitive's Sub Conscious, making me wonder if he and Bluetech were sharing plugins at the time. Nah, just a coincidence, I'm sure.

Dido - Life For Rent

Arista: 2003

Dido already had a decent run of solo success by the year 2000. Even in an overstuffed '90s market of lady singer-songwriters, she managed a couple minor hits, not to mention an association with her big brother's super-mega popular club band Faithless didn't hurt her prospects either. Then her career went meteoric when Eminem sampled the charming ditty Thank You for an all-time classic cut in Stan. Not only did it break Dido to an entirely untapped young American demographic, but their moms too, who couldn't stand that potty-mouthed rapper but constantly inquired their sons about that one track with the catchy chorus. No joke, I had middle-aged women coming in my music shop buying The Marshall Mathers LP just for that Dido chorus alone. Fortunately for them, we soon 'found' a whole album of Dido music for them to enjoy, without all those gay-bashing, pop-celebrity slamming, girlfriend-murdering antics.

So No Angel went on to be a platinum-selling album in many countries, which naturally left expectations for her follow-up album sky-high. She smashed it, Life For Rent hitting the number one spot in several countries, lead single White Flag her best selling song by a mile (well, technically Stan is, but y'know). Honestly though, I think Ms. Florian Cloud de Bounevialle O'Malley Armstrong lucked out a little, filling in the lady singer-songwriter gap that had emerged after many Lilith Fair alum had significantly retreated from the spotlight by 2003. There was still a market for light, folksy brunch-pop, just not as large as before. Might as well indulge in that UK lass who did the Thank You song – that White Flag is catchy enough, so the rest of Life For Rent should be just as good.

While I've enjoyed her contributions to Faithless tunes and whatever other projects her bro' Rollo's up to, I've only taken a passive interest in Dido's solo music. Maybe it's just how overplayed her hit singles ended up (dear Lord, was White Flag ever abused through the mid-'00s!), but I never felt the need to dig further into her album material. That said, I cannot deny some curiosity in how Rollo's production would translate into the folk-pop arena. The chap's always had a flair for the dramatic, but was equally capable of dialing things back for proper chill moments too. And there's plenty of examples of his touch in Life For Rent.

Yes, Dido's lyrics and guest guitarists generally take centre-stage (including Rick Nowels, Adam Zimmon, and Dave Randall). Scope out those dubby Balearic touches in Stoned though! Or the gentle, sweeping pads in See You When You're 40. Or the cavernous sonic depth in the mini-breakdown in Do You Have A Little Time. Or the trip-hop flourishes in Who Makes You Feel. Sand In My Shoes even has a minor, clubby build, though that's likely Sister Bliss' additional production at play. I know these aren't the things I'm supposed to focus on in a Dido album, but old habits, y'know?

Enigma - Voyageur

Virgin: 2003

I can't say Enigma fell off after this album, Michael Cretu having released three additional albums since, including one this past winter after an eight year absence. And while hard sales are no where near what was enjoyed at the start of this project, he's retained enough of a dedicated following that his streaming figures remain respectable (so sayeth The Spotify).

Yet ask casual electronic music followers these days what they think of those albums, and they'll answer you with “Who's Enigma?” Then you'll try to educate them on albums like MCMXC a.D., and singles like Return To Innocence, and maybe they'll mention hearing their moms play those when they were kids, to which you'll realize you're getting just so very old and want to retreat to comforting sounds. Like the familiar, seductive, soothing refrains of classic Enigma, yeah, that'll do the trick, and by the by, have they released anything new lately? Ooh, here's some stuff on Spotify, may as well check that out.

Not that I blame folks for figuring Engima's time had passed. By the fourth album, The Screen Behind The Mirror, it felt as though Mr. Cretu was stuck recycling old habits; at least even he recognized the sound had grown stale. Following a greatest hits package proclaiming closure on the first chapter of Enigma's story, he came out with this album, Voyageur, a stated deliberate change in direction and song-writing. What that was supposed to lead to remains anyone's guess.

Rather, the main talking points surrounding Voyageur almost always bring up what it lacks compared to Enigma of old. No more ethnic chants and Gregorian sampling, gone are the vintage woodwinds that always immediately identified a Michael Cretu production. Both “Curly” M.C. and his wife still provide a few vocals, but more vocalists have been added to the table too. In fact, this is the 'poppiest' Enigma's ever sounded, songs short, concise, and radio-ready should any of them catch on. Only two did, the titular cut and Boum-Boum, both dancier options. Not so dancey as Look Of Today though, with one of the catchiest hooks I've ever heard in the Enigma canon (and well it should, being an interpolation of ABC's The Look Of Love).

Elsewhere, Incognito gets rockier, Page Of Cups aims for a little chill-out compilation action (it failed), and tracks like Weightless and The Piano dip closer to the New Age side of Cretu's muse. Meanwhile, In The Shadow, In The Light and closer Follow The Sun shoot for the emotional, spiritual feels, and I can't say I'm getting the feels from them like other Enigma tunes. There's something lacking, the same strident confidence you'd hear from Cretu's production no matter how overblown the music could get. Maybe its the result of trying something different, a feeling-out process after so many years relying on familiar songcraft. And Voyageur is fine enough on that regard, but that's about the only lasting impression this album ever generated. Ain't no one humming Boum-Boum, even then.

Dopplereffekt - Linear Accelerator

International Deejays Gigolo: 2003

Dopplereffekt is Gerald Donald (and a rotating partner), a darn important person in the world of techno. Mostly for his contributions to Drexciya and Underground Resistance, though this project is held near the same reverent breath from Detroit electro disciples. Heck, some could even point to this act as a precursor to electroclash, the minimalist, sleazy Pornoactress from the 1996 single Infophysix oozing all sorts of detached, deadpan cool. DJ Hell must have thought so, signing Mr. Donald to his International Deejay Gigolo print. Instead of more Dopplereffekt material though, there was Virtual Geisha as Japanese Telecom, a kitschy electro album at the height of electroclash’s kitschy dominance. Then there’s Der Zyklus’ II, which contained some classics of the electro revival in its own right (d’at Discogs Market price, tho’!).

For all intents though, it seemed Mr. Donald was done with Dopplereffekt after making his debut on Hell’s label with the 1999 retrospective Gesamtkunstwerk. But maybe there was enough demand from the Gigolo faithful to hear more under that particular guise, hence the eventual LP we have here. That, or ol’ Gerald was contractually obligated to provide a proper album of new material as Dopplereffekt before moving on. I mean, it’s mighty suspicious this is his last release with Gigolo. It would go a long way into explaining why Linear Accelerator is a rather challenging record.

For sure earlier Dopplereffekt had a hard sci-fi element to it, a fascination with lab experiments and high-end technology. Linear Accelerator takes that to the extreme though, with track titles like Myon-Neutrino, Higgs-Mechanism, and Niobium Resonators. And the music? It’s a long wait for anything resembling a tune on this album. The opening track Photo Injector is over twenty-one minutes of clanking machinery, miniscule bloops, and all sorts of musique concrete abstraction. Niobium Resonators follows, nearly fifteen minutes of clicks, pops, and blast-processing noise. Third cut Graviton runs an additional fourteen minutes, has a muffled, garbled synth running through it, while clicks, pops, and static do the experimental glitch thing that was increasingly in vogue around this time with artsty techno sorts. In case you haven’t kept tally, that’s a whopping forty-nine minutes of this album spent experimenting with electronic sounds. Linear Accelerator has a runtime of seventy minutes, mind you.

The final three tracks do offer some melodic yin to the difficult yang of the first three. Myon-Neutrino has a groovy acid bassline with a haunting sci-fi hook, Z-Boson goes more spritely in its choice of synths, while Higgs-Mechanism offers the closest thing to an electro cut out of anything on here, though significantly muted compared to Donald’s other works.

Obviously Linear Accelerator isn’t an album for the faint of heart - only those who thrill at the intense potential of electronic experimentation need apply. I’m just confounded at how such an abstract release found its way onto Gigolo. Either DJ Hell was aiming for a trendy Mille Plateaux rub, or Donald was having a pisstake with the whole electro revivalist thing.

Anthony Rother - Elixir Of Life

Fax +49-69/450464: 2003

I’ve talked Anthony Rother up a great deal, and for good reason. The man almost single-handedly gave retro electro a good kick in the arsch, among the leaders in the genre’s turn of the century revival. And yet, this is the first album I’ve actually picked up from the chap, but it’s not my fault. His seminal ‘90s work is just so darn expensive, cherished collector’s items that few are willing to part without handsome financial reparation. Yes, even his ventures into synth pop and electroclash, though honestly I can’t say that stuff interests me as much as the stark robot workout music he crafted prior.

And truthfully, I wasn’t searching for Rother albums when I spotted this for a cheeky twenty – I was hunting about for Fax +49-69/450464 musics. That I found Elixir Of Life for such a reasonable price only sweetened the deal, because if there’s any name that seems totally at odds with the famed Pete Namlook print, it’s this German electro maestro. I’ll grant ol’ Anth’ has a muse that stretches beyond the limited palette of robot jams, but releasing music on a label known for old school ambient, nu-skool ambient, ambient techno, and ambient-noodlesoup? A most intriguing development indeed, one that yielded five albums worth on Fax+ before the label was forced into premature closure. Makes me wonder if Mr. Rother will end up on Carpe Sonum sometime in the near future.

If you’re heading into Elixir Of Life anticipating more electro or *gasp* electro pop, forget it. The title or artwork should give the hint: this is music with the ‘70s in sight, coming off like a long lost piece of classic experimental krautrock than anything intended with modern sensibilities. One track, Elixir Of Life (Part 8), does offer some robot beatcraft, but aside from that, the only sense of rhythm comes from simmering subdued sequencers the likes commonly heard in Berlin-School works (Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 7). There isn’t much melody on this album either, though some nice minimal pad work does show up towards the end, especially in Part 9. Other pieces go straight drone, letting an all-pervasive analog hiss dominate for the duration before moving onto another piece. Oh yeah, that hiss doesn’t let up throughout the album, actually growing more prominent as Elixir Of Life plays out. I guess it helps tie everything together into a continuous theme, though I’m at a loss as to what theme Rother had in mind here, beyond doing a take on crusty electronic experimentation. His musique concrete dalliance gets absurd with Part 5, where a kick gets warped, sped-up, bent, slowed, and stretched to all manner of weird abstraction.

Considering the Plastikman also appeared on Fax+, I can’t say Mr. Rother’s offering here is unprecedented, though fancying the deep end of this style of music is a must. Elixir Of Life will come off as one big disappointing whiff of droning nothing otherwise. Strictly a fans only album, this.

Tosca - Dehli9

Studio !K7: 2003

It shouldn’t have taken this long to finally nab myself a Tosca album. For sure I’ve gathered a few tracks over the years, mostly found on compilations showcasing dubby, downtempo tunes with a light jazz inflection. Theirs is a sound that finds a cool middle-ground between ambient dub of Sounds From The Ground, and ethnic-infused lounge-hop of Thievery Corporation. As you’d expect when one-half of the immortal downtempo duo Kruder & Dorfmeister is involved, though it surprises me Richard’s work with Rupert Huber doesn’t get near as much fame as his work with Peter. He’s worked with both for about the same amount of time, Tosca forming in the mid-‘90s. And while the K&D sessions gave Dorfmeister plenty of plaudits, it’s his work alongside Mr. Huber that continues to this day, at least ten albums deep into a two-decade long partnership, not to mention oodles of ‘dub version’ albums. For all intents, this should be the Dorfmeister project that everyone gushes over, but man, that The K&D Sessions™, eh?

Dehli9 is Tosca’s third LP, which I grabbed because it was the first return in an Amazon search. Yeah, can’t claim doing much research into the duo’s ‘Essential Albums’ list, going in with arms out, ears open, and expectations unsullied by other people’s opinions. Which I guess makes me a tad contradictory, if you’re reading this for my opinion before indulging Dehli9 yourself. Really, I just assume it’s searches for confirmation bias that lures folks into reading reviews anymore, though maybe a little exploration outside comfort zones factors into it too – also, quips aplenty!

I actually knew at least one track off here, the jazzy reggae tune Gute Laune, appearing on the Studio !K7 celebratory showcase compilation !K7150. Heck, that song alone helped clue me into getting off my duffer and check out this other Dorfmeister project, despite how long it took me getting around to it. Much of Dehli9 plays to this sound, which tends to be the Tosca style regardless. Tracks like Me & Yoko Ono and Every Day & Every Night go more for a dubby trip-hop vibe, whereas jazzy deep house feature on tunes like Rolf Royce, Spert, La Vendeuse Des Chaussures Des Femmes Part 1, and lead single Wonderful. And we can’t forget some Latin-fusion for good measure (Oscar, Dave Dudley), plus whatever form of jazz-hop is going on in Mango Di Bango, because why not.

Dehli9 is a fine downtempo album, classy as it needs to be, though admittedly keeping an even keel where this music is concerned – you can find this sound on oodles of compilations throughout the ‘00s. Tosca sweetens the deal then, with a second CD of piano pieces, apparently all based on a book Huber wrote called 12 Easy To Play Piano Pieces. These are all very much in the minimalist modern classical mold, though with just enough ambient treatment they’re distinct from much piano music out there. Unless you’re well versed in the works of Harold Budd, anyway.

FPU - Traxxdata

Turbo: 2003

I liked Soundtrack Saga, but didn’t become as big a fan of Peter Benisch’s work until hearing this album. It blew my mind that someone who could craft such lush, expansive downtempo and ambient music, then completely flip the script and offer up something so charmingly retro, quirky, and kitsch. That’s not to say artists are incapable of exploring radically differing styles of music, but it’s typically not done, most content with remaining inside the lane they’re most proficient at. And even if they do reach beyond their comfort zones, it’s even rarer they contribute something unique to whatever genre they’re exploring. That’s why it’s not only remarkable that Benisch went and made an ode to the electro and synth music of the ‘80s, but excelled at it at a time when everyone was doing the same!

No, wait, that’s not entirely accurate. The early ‘00s had everyone jumping on the electroclash bandwagon, which took ‘80s ideas but twisted them upon itself. It was the only way to remain cool while also being blatantly retro, see. Traxxdata isn’t electroclash though. Even the track that kicked the FPU project off, Crockett’s Theme, is as respectful an ode to the original Jan Hammer piece as anyone’s crafted. True, Tiga took that track and turned the kitsch to eleven for Ocean Drive, but that track isn’t on here. About the only other tune off Traxxdata that reaches similar ‘relive decadent Miami’ vibes is second single Racer Car, what with camp lyrics of “Cruising fast, in your racer car, in the night; You look so fine, you look so good, in the night.” I also feel this is one of the weaker cuts, though still having a solid, techno pulse going for it.

The rest of the album flirts between proper-grim electro (Calabi Yau Space, In The Future With Machines, FPU Theme) and peppy synthwave numbers. Wait, what? Synthwave? Isn’t that a relatively new development? Yeah, mostly, though I’m sure you could point to the odd outlier making deliberate throwback soundtrack music at any point in the past two decades - like Traxxdata! Benisch made no secret of where he was drawing influence from, and just as every synthwave producer ever namedrops Jan Hammer, Jean-Michel Jarre, Vangelis, and John Carpenter, so it also goes with FPU.

And hot damn, are there ever some tasty ‘80s earworms in here! You Don’t Pay My Bills is a delicious slice of robo synth-pop, having me hum lyrics I only half decipher. At the other end of Traxxdata, you’ll find Waiting For Snow, as close to an ‘electro-trance’ tune as I’ll ever allow being designated as such (shove off, Punk). Other tracks find Benisch indulging himself a little more, like a creepy ode to Seven Of Nine (that vocoder!), chipper jaunts across dimensions (Time Safari), and casual strolls through retro-future cities (Eastside Protection). The lone out-of-place track on Traxxdata is closer Endgame, and only because it sounds like a leftover from Soundtrack Saga instead. Worth! It!

Various - Traveler '03

Six Degrees Records: 2003

The only hope a label like Six Degrees Records could have at success is predicated upon a compilation series like their Travel CDs. Take a casual survey of their roster, and most likely you’ll draw a blank on seventy percent of them. I only familiarized myself with Six Degrees because Banco de Gaia found a new home there after his Planet Dog/Mammoth deal ended (prints going out of business will do that). And while I’ve since found a few interesting acts alongside him (dZihan & Kamien, DJ Cheb I Sabbah …The Orb!?), most draw a big ol’ blank from me. It’s my way-Western bias, see, forever limiting the sort of global exposure I could have at the tips of my earlobes. Names like Batidos, Niyaz, Issa Bagayogo, Cibelle, Ojos de Brujo, Bossacucanova, and Willy Porter are well outside my sphere of influence, and while Six Degrees’ manifesto is all about dropping some worldly musical knowledge on folks such as I, it’s all a bit much to take in for any but the most daring of global trekkers.

Hence the Travel series, a (mostly) annual compilation rounding up Six Degrees artists familiar and obscure as a showcase for the curious. Even a passing familiarity with the label should have folks weaned on the likes of Karsh Kale, MIDIval PunditZ, and Bob Holroyd, but who among thee know of Bobi Céspedes, Lumin, or Qwii Music Arts' Trust Khoi San Music? No, don’t lie, you’ve never heard that last one before, because this is the only place within Lord Discogs’ tome of knowledge it appears. Who even is Qwii Music Arts' Trust Khoi San Music? Fortunately, the inlay provides handy write-ups of the artists within. For this particular track of Xlao Tshao, we are told “These “Bushmen” of the Kalahari Desert and their music have evolved from 25,000 years of indigenous culture. They believe their music has the potential to heal their community through rhythm.” Well, that wasn’t much help at all. I could tell this was charming African-folk music just from hearing it, thank you very much.

That’s about the best way to take in Traveler ‘03 in, simply playing the CD back and hearing all the various cultures represented. And don’t worry about being too over-cultured, as Six Degrees’ main goal has always been about bridging these wide cultural gaps with easily-digested global grooves. Lots of downtempo dub, shufflin’ Afro-jazz, and even some braindancey breaks action care of Lumin’s Izgrala. MIDIval PunditZ’ Dark Escape has a brisk techno pulse going, while Ben Neill’s Bugfunk and Karsh Kale’s GK² isn’t a touch out of classic breaks, but with an ethnic twist.

And if all that isn’t enough of a bridge, there’s a bonus second CD with Traveler ‘03 of straight-up club remixes. Right, some of these are Latin clubs or jazz clubs, but house clubs too. Heck even Berghain jocks would rinse out that ultra-deep David Alvarado rub of Sylk 130’s Romeo’s Fate. How’d that get on here?

Various - Trance V.oice 2

Beat Buzz Records: 2003

I wanted some trance damn it, but my God was the selection in this particular store ever dismal. I could find my Turbo CDs and maybe a nifty techno album or two, but where was the trance, man? Where was the trance? On compilations with a Balearic beach, or a sunrise, or a sunrise on a Balearic beach, promising the latest and bestest in Ibizan superclub anthems, all tracks that, if I hadn’t already gotten, sure didn’t want, even in a different order.

It was then I realized whatever I’d enjoyed of the genre was truly, definitely gone, with no hope of return or salvation. The only thing left was to accept it full-stop, taking it as good as the cheese could give it. I scanned the shelves for the most overblown, chintzy, gaudy, ridiculous, nonsensical piece of cover art I could find, and hoo boy did I find a doozy! Just… what the Hell is going on here? Happy hardcore would be embarrassed by how cartoony this looks, and don’t get me started on the abomination that’s a double-gendered, two-headed plesiosaur. Too cruel to exist, yet too bizarre to erase from my memory.

And the trance. Oh dear God, the trance. Already you’re thinking we’re in for some rough vocal tripe, but maybe Trance V.oice 2 would present itself like those Trance Divas discs, a mix of the poppy euro fluff with more ‘credible’ examples of the sub-genre. Aw HELL n’aw! If I wanted something like that, I’d have gone with any dozen of generic trance CDs. I wanted the worst of the worst with this sucker, and Trance V.oice 2 fucking delivers!

The first track is DJ Sammy’s Heaven; welp, no sense pussy-footing this excrement. The next two have M.I.K.E.’s stamp on them, a Push remix of Zippora’s See The Sun, plus the collaboration Please Save Me with Sunscreen. If you like the Push sound, you’ll probably enjoy these, but as we’re dealing with radio edits, both tracks are utterly useless as examples of well-crafted trance (no time for subtlety). Fourth track is a lame hard dance cover of Supertramp’s The Logical Song from Solid Solution. Dear lord, just end this already.

No dice, Trance V.oice 2 carrying on with awful supersaws, flaccid pop, and wretched radio edits. As always, the closer vocal trance gets to euro dance, as with Futurz’ Let Your Night Shine Through and Sylver’s The Smile Has Left Your Eyes, the better it gets, but we’re at a pathetically low baseline here, my friends. All hope is gone once Trance V.oice 2 basically gives up on being a trance compilation after dropping a cover of BKS’ I’m In Love With You near the end. And the next track, Velvet Girl’s Promise U Heaven, why that doesn’t even have vocals at all! Zero out of Ten Jan Johnston Heads.

Seriously though, it’s the only decent track on here; once again Lolo provides some class on an awful CD. Respect.

The White Stripes - Elephant

V2: 2003

The White Stripes are the greatest rock band of the last twenty years, if you were to ask any long-time follower of that scene. Like, I’m talking long-time, since at least the late ‘60s. In one fell swoop, Jack and Meg obliterated any and all developments, nuances, dalliances, diversion, explorations, and permutations of rock music, bringing the scene back to its simple, garage roots. More punk than punk, more blues than grunge; punting the pretentions of prog, nuking the new wave for some old wave. Um, making metal mobsolete? Help me out here, guys and gals.

Mr. & Ms. White weren’t the only musicians making garage rock, but they were the first to connect with that all-important “yoof” demographic, breaking out of obscurity with a flurry of memorable videos on MTV (and almost single-handily making Lego cool again). Soon after, all manner of garage rock bands entered the airwaves. With a quickly crowding scene, however, come increased demands and expectations on the perceived leaders, to prove they deserve their perch upon the podium of classic rock’s saviors. Whether by circumstance or design, Elephant was destined to be The White Stripes’ Statement Album. They were no longer the plucky upstarts out of Detroit, but a force the world of old rock was hanging their hopes on. Plus, y’know, no pressure from signing on a major label, one offering a vinyl roll-out when the format was practically toast. Nope, no pressure at all. Good thing Jack White’s obsessive enough of an artist to get the job done, then.

Yeah, they smashed it out of the park, Elephant earning all the plaudits, praise, and rock awards. And though it couldn’t sustain the garage rock mini-revolution for much longer (folks getting all up in that Coldplay shi’…), the album’s held up greatly, thanks in huge part to the raw, unvarnished quality the Stripes deliberately utilized. The liner notes proudly proclaims no computers were used in the production, with only vintage analogue gear for the recording process and self-imposed time-frame for studio sessions (ten days!). They wanted this sounding as authentic to the garage bands of the mid-‘60s as possible post-millennium, and damn if they didn’t succeed. Fortunately, they also gave the tracks plenty of heft, such that the raw, grainy distortion and thumping drum kits are rich and full, nothing over-compressed and flat; timeless, and all that. Take that, Red Hot Chili Peppers!

Seven Nation Army was the big hit off here, but I’ve been rather blasé about it all these years. Too monotonous throughout, y’see, though definitely kick-ass lyrics. Nah, I prefer these Stripes when they just rock the f’ out (Black Math; Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine; Hypnotize), or get right-proper blues heavy and sludgy (There’s No Home For You Here; Ball And Biscuit; I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself). And dammit, the acoustic jam with Holly Golightly at the end is just too adorable, in spite of the depressing topic. Country in a nutshell, eh?

Sarah McLachlan - Afterglow

Nettwerk: 2003

Sarah McLachlan first came within range of my earholes way back, her oldie single Into The Fire on constant rotation over Vancouver’s radio waves. And why not, an undeniably catchy song that fed off the success of similar lady singer-songwriters of the era (Tori Amos, Sinéad O'Connor). Plus, what youthful teenage boy couldn’t help but be, erm, ‘intrigued’ by that video of Ms. McLachlan lounging about naked, covered in mud? And while I’m almost certain I heard Possession at some point too (aka: that “I’ll take your breath away” song), I didn’t give her much thought after Into The Fire, music bias against anything un-electronic dictating such youthful folly. Thus I must admit to embarrassing shock at not only learning she was still around when her ultra-mega successful Surfacing dropped, but was on the verge of becoming an industry juggernaut for female musicians. Grammys! Lilith Fair! Trance remixes! Well I’ll be darned.

After such unprecedented career fortune, Ms. McLachlan did what any humble gal from Nova Scotia would do: retreat from the spotlight for a while for some quality me-time. This wasn’t her first time doing so, ol’ Sarah taking a six-month sabbatical prior to working on Surfacing. After all the touring and fame that album wrought, damn straight she’d need another bought of recharging. This one lasted much longer though, in part due to a period of mourning after the loss of her mother, but also prepping for motherhood of her own. With all these factors in play, anticipation was high for this album. Could she meet and even surpass her song writing abilities so often exceeded throughout the ‘90s? Would she have new topics to write about, new perspectives on the way life had gone for her in the half-decade since international stardom? Might she incorporate any new production tricks, perhaps go more electronic in lieu of the popularity of all those remixes? The answer to all this is an irresistible “nah, guy.”

Afterglow is quite the apt title, the music here mostly calm and light. It all goes down easy, the sort of songs you’d hear on your adult contemporary station during the grind of work. Sarah doesn’t offer much in the way of fresh insights or innovative song craft, mostly relaying the sort of platitudes you’d expect of someone mostly content in their life. Tracks like Fallen, Stupid, and Train Wreck touch on feelings of loss, whereas Perfect Girl and Push offer messages with some hopeful outlooks. World On Fire hints at the troubles ailing a post-9/11 world, but that’s about as far outside Sarah’s comfort zone of relationship reflections we venture. Lyrically, all the songs on Afterglow are well-written and Sarah’s voice sounds as haunting as ever, but after such a long gap between albums, it’s no surprise folks came away from this tidy ten-tracker underwhelmed. Could it be Ms. McLachlan’s time in the sun had finally set?

I must “nah, guy” again, a surprising new career as an impossibly sad ASPCA spokeswoman beckoning.

A Perfect Circle - Thirteenth Step

Virgin: 2003

Remember two years ago (!) when I reviewed Tool’s Ænima, wherein I also mentioned checking out the spin-off band A Perfect Circle? It was all that hype, see, Virgin’s marketing muscle promising a stellar new alternative band, one that would change the landscape of rock’s domain for years to come. Yeah, whatever, I’m busy digging into all that Wu-Tang Clan backlog, y’know, not to mention my continued quest in gathering whatever electronic music I could to my music shop of the hinterwaylands near Haida Gwaii. Still, that cover of Mer De Noms looked cool, sitting there in stacks of six, awaiting pick-ups from eager CD buyers. Some of our clientele had clued me into neat acts before, which I’d have missed otherwise. Maybe this one, what with that Chris Carter’s Millennium style artwork going for it, will have something intriguing within. After playing a few songs though, I shrugged with an indifferent ‘meh’, then went about replaying a nifty DJ mix from some Turbo label.

The media blitz for the follow-up Thirteenth Step aside, I pretty much forgot about A Perfect Circle, the band’s music falling well outside my listening habits. Over time though, I’ve made friends with those who do include alternative rock music into their daily diets. Friends who’ve eagerly quaffed from Tool and Perfect Circle goblets. Friends who were looking to offload CDs, of which I eagerly quaffed from their collections into mine. Thus here I am reviewing more music from Maynard James Keenan, a proposition I never thought happening again.

Actually, to call A Perfect Circle a Keenan project isn’t accurate in the slightest. He may provide the bulk of lyrics and pipes to support them, but the genesis behind the band lies with Billy Howerdel, who’d spent his time prior mostly tuning guitars for Tool. Billy’s demos impressed Keenan so much that he requested being the new band’s frontman, with a who’s-who of ‘90s rock musicians rotating in and out since Perfect Circle’s formation (James Iha, Twiggy Ramirez, Troy van Leeuwen, Josh Freese, and others). Man, no wonder Thirteenth Step reminds me so much of a ‘90s album, especially for a 2003 release, when garage rock, emo-punk, post-grunge, and nu-metal were ruling the world of rock.

And I cannot deny, this is a darn good album. Melodic and melancholic for the most part, sporadically heavy and urgent as needed, with Keenan’s singing quite enjoyable so removed from pretentious Tool trappings. Thirteenth Step essentially chronicles the crippling effects of addiction, from its enticing allure to the crushing fall, with a small hope of recovery at the end. Though a few tracks stand out on their own, it’s an album that works best as a long-play, especially with the lingering bit of guitar hanging in the air at the end of final track Gravity. It feels like there’s more to follow, maybe even a secret song. And you wait for that release… waiting… waiting… For a proper follow-up album that never materialized. So cruel, this longing…

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 7

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Towards the ends of Dragon Quest III and VI, you encounter a small, sealed off realm. Here resides a population of people kept in perpetual misery, suffering, and depression, which the Archfiends of these games love to feast on (somehow). Through pluck, guile, and a little demon slaying, you rescue these people from their circumstances, overcoming the bitterness consuming their lives. Nice little parables for sure, especially for a series steeped in altruism. So when Dragon Quest made its leap to the Playstation, it took those singular events and spread it for the course of an entire game. Each sealed realm you visit and free restores the world from a single, isolated island like a giant jigsaw puzzle. No, literally! You go around collecting shards, piecing them together, and- Well, no sense revealing everything. I’ll just end with the knowledge this is one long RPG, and one of the bonus bosses is God. Yes, the God, with the flowing white beard, robe, etc.

Ooh, I said ‘end’ in the last paragraph. That can segue into this review, as we’re also at the ‘end’ of this seven disc box set, which features music played at the ‘end’ of the game, specifically during ‘end’ credits. Also, I’ll now ‘end’ these forced quotations.

So you defeated the big bad of the realm, rescued a princess or two, became a legendary hero in the process of fulfilling prophecy. Now you can get back to rebuilding your sacked village, raising a family, and take up the family fishing business. It a funny turn how the triumphant victories of the older Dragon Quest games became more humbling and simple in later editions. Hell, some conclusions come bitter-sweet, no more so than Dragon Quest IV where defeating the villain was an act of necessity brought about by manipulation and betrayal. Have I mentioned how frickin’ awesome that game’s plot is for the 8-bit era? Man, even the Ending (IV) music is ridiculously epic, especially in its fully orchestrated version here. Movies don’t get end credit scores this grand.

That essentially concludes the symphonic suite portion of the box set, but what’s this? Extra room on CD7? Sure, a little of that was taken by the ‘heaven’ compositions at start (Dragon Quest IV through VI centers on a ‘Heaven’ arc, or Zenithia in the original translation), but that still leaves plenty space at the end. Yet there are no more recordings of symphonic suites. What can be used to fill out that gap? Why, original VGM of course!

Two pieces from Dragon Quest VII never got a symphonic upgrade, gypsy folk ditties titled Toura Dance (VII) and Restoration Prayer (VII). Not sure why that is, though I’ve heard rumor ol’ Koichi had difficulty composing them with an orchestral backing. Wait, this from the guy that made symphonic chiptunes? A few more pieces were added to the 32-bit upgrade for Dragon Quest IV, including new mid-boss battle music and a theme for the main antagonists. They’re, um… disappointing.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 6

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Stateside Dragon Quest fans just couldn't catch a break in the 16-bit era. Denied the fifth game, no hope of seeing the upgrades of the first three 8-bit games, and pretty much shit out of luck on number six of the series, it wasn’t until late in the next generation of gaming that we saw anything new. Even emulation could only take us so far, the games growing more complex with the text dialog. Dragon Quest VI became infamous during those dark times as The Game That Could Not Be Fan Translated. Many attempted the mighty task, some even coming close to completion, but like Dragon Quest V, we’d never see an official version until it made the port to the DS. Shame, because I find the main character’s origin in that game possibly the most creative of all them all (you are not the dreamer, but the dream...).

Disc six finally brings us to the music that soundtracked many a grinding session: battle themes. Every great RPG must have a good battle theme, music that gets you equally pumped fighting the most pathetic Slime to the most dastardly Archfiend. Koichi Sugiyama definitely knows his way around a thrilling composition, standard fight music quick and punchy, with a dash of the ol’ derring-do. He even throws in an occasional twist or two, Death Fight (II) changing time signatures, and Battle For The Glory (IV) working in a crescendo. Okay, that’s common for orchestral music, but this was done with the original Nintendo soundcard too. That just wasn’t done, mang, yet here he done did it!

Though mid-boss battles are a staple of the series since the first game, it wasn’t until Dragon Quest V and the additional MIDI storage of the Super Famicom that Sugiyama-san provided music for these fights. Though they are unique compositions, they’re essentially beefed-up takes of the standard battle music. Meanwhile, the final boss music of Dragon Quest often goes the opposite way, with slow, brooding pieces, thumping kettle drums setting a sluggish pace, as though your final test is a battle of endurance and survival against ancient evils. Makes sense, as most of the final bosses are ancient evils, large demonic behemoths whose steps shake the ground they walk upon. Probably.

The only game to buck this convention is Dragon Quest III. Gruelling Fight, played during your confrontation with the Archfiend Baramos, brings urgent strings, sinister horns, and a refrain that’s all sorts of tense, exciting, and kick-ass. And that’s just the fake-out final boss music! No, the main attraction from this game is Fighting Spirit (III), a medley of the standard battle music (which is great!), an extended interlude of the classic Unknown World played on harp, then all Hell breaks loose for your true final battle. Furious strings, crashing percussion, bombastic horns... holy cow, this piece has it all, and is, by far, the best final boss music in the whole series. How anyone can resist getting hyped listening to it is beyond me.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 5

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Dragged out of 8-bit land kicking and screaming, Dragon Quest made its debut on 16-bit with V, where better graphics and storytelling were promised. Well, it didn't do much with the Super Famicom's capabilities (not even some Mode 7?), but surely Yuji Horii and his cohorts would give us a grand epic narrative showing the world why the series deserved its amazing success in Japan. Eh, not quite either, the game never getting a localization in America (much less Europe) until the year 2009, die-hards forced into alternative methods to play the game. Fortunately, the world of emulation was blossoming on the early internet, and there was enough Dragon Quest interest to support fan translations of the game.

And while Dragon Quest V didn’t amaze in graphics, it more than made up for it story. Not for the overall plot, mind you, that still relatively standard fare for the series (monsters up to no good, prophesized hero must overcome, etc.). Rather, it was how the narrative bucked convention, your main character’s arc primarily his journey in finding his missing mother. Starting as a young boy travelling with his father, he’ll witness his brutal murder (!), is forced into child slavery (!!), escapes and finds the time to take a wife, discovers he has a lineage of nobility, and yet doesn’t turn out to be the prophesized hero destined to save the world. Mang, that was unheard of in RPGs! Your main character always is the hero! Who is it, then? You don’t find that out until he saves your ass, for your character eventually gets turned to stone and is left to erode for several years. Did I mention this game loves to gut punch your emotions a bunch?

Eh? Oh, right, CD5 of the box set. This one features music played when travelling by other means than foot. Having a sea faring vessel is standard in most RPGs, but your method of flight often varies from game to game. Final Fantasy famously likes airships, and Ultima once used star crafts before the series realized that was daft for a fantasy setting. Dragon Quest, meanwhile, has never settled on a standard mode of air transport. Such means have included a resurrected phoenix, a hot air balloon, a magic carpet, a flying bed (!), a winged horse, and a floating rock vessel. Y’know, for a game series called Dragon Quest, you’d think there’d be more flying on dragons.

Truth be told, I find this the weakest of the CDs. Aside from a few lovely pieces (Heavenly Flight (III), Sea Breeze (IV), Over The Horizon (VII), most of Sugiyama-san’s compositions here meander about with little to hook you in. It does recreate that feeling of an endlessly open world to explore, but I can’t say this is a CD I reach for often. Oh, and I absolutely hate those ship waltzes for Dragon Quest II and III. Too damn goofy, even for a disc with a song titled Flying Bed (VI).

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 4

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

Dragon Quest IV was a remarkable game when it came out, one of the last true greats of the 8-bit era. Featuring multiple characters, each had their own 'chapters' before coming together for a final chapter, breaking conventional RPG storytelling in the process. The game even established many tropes folks now take for granted in the genre (hero village sacked, tragic villain, prophecy, etc.). Koichi Sugiyama, already showing amazing finesse with the Nintendo soundcard, outdid himself yet again with this game. I’ve touched on several pieces and themes in the previous CDs of this box set, and I will several more times before we’re done.

While the game remains a favourite for many (*cough*), it unfortunately was way overshadowed by other big RPGs of the time. Final Fantasy IV had made its sexy debut on the Super Nintendo, leaving Dragon Quest IV’s clunky Nintendo graphics well in the dust. Meanwhile, in PC gaming land, Ultima VII: The Black Gate burst forth, proving that series remained top dog of the yard. Still, Yuji Horii wasn’t trying to outdo Lord British’s games, just make simpler versions of them. That, and the dungeon crawling of Wizardry.

Oh yeah, we’re dealing with the ‘dungeon’ disc with CD4 - woot, I can segue like this all day! Any good RPG needs its caves where monsters dwell, hoarding all sorts of treasures to loot. Appropriately, Sugiyama-san composed pieces reflecting ominous shadows, creepy crevices, and claustrophobic caverns. With Dragon Quest II, towers were introduced as another form of monster infested locale, and ol’ Koichi approached this music from a different angle, compositions often urgent in pace, melodies suggesting mischievous shenanigans by whatever devilry may lurk in long abandoned rooms. This feeling of lofty unease was best captured by Screams From The Tower Of Monsters (VII), where sinister plucked strings give way to woozy violins and flutes, every so often interrupted by the echo of horns, as though you’re just hovering at the edge of a thirty foot drop. Watch that final step, wily hero; it’s a loo-loo.

Oops, you fell off and splattered on the ground below. Or fell into a cunning trap by Demonites in that tower. Or crawled too deep into a dungeon, meeting a horrible end at hoards of Horks, or in the den of a dozen Green Dragons (damn you, Road To Rhone). Whatever the case, as the classic Dragon Warrior saying goes, “Thou art dead.”

As these can be a common occurrences in Dragon Quest, Sugiyama-san saw fit to include mournful pieces for those ‘game over’ screens, typically titled Requiem or Elegy. In the first few games, you’d be resurrected by Kings, but later it’d be at churches or shrines with priests (Houses Of Healing with shaman, for the religious-wary early Nintendo games). Such holy havens deserve music worthy of humbling piety, which are provided as counters-points to the various requiems. It marks a rather soothing end to CD4, a blissful contrast to the foreboding tones of the first half.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 3

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

For the first two Dragon Quest games, you played as the descendents of a legendary hero known as Roto (or Erdrick). For all the great deeds you did in those games (save kingdoms, rescue princesses, defeat a God Of Chaos!), folks sure still talk mighty highly of that person from way back. Just what was his/her story anyway? Dragon Quest III tells that tale, though it wasn't immediately apparent. For the most part, it plays as a typical RPG, going from town to town, kingdom to kingdom (all suspiciously familiar), completing quests and finding treasures to finally bring down a big bad threatening the world. That wasn't the whole story either, but enough plot. The game itself marked the series' proper foray into the realm of classic pen-and-paper RPGs, with multiple party member classes you can swap in and out to your heart's content.

With such customization available, Dragon Quest III has been a fan favourite through the years, even as the game's mechanics grow ever more archaic. It's gotta' be that soundtrack that keeps drawing them back. Koichi Sugiyama outdid himself with this game, composing several pieces bringing to mind derring-do, swash-buckling, high adventure. Heck, the overworld theme he wrote for this game is titled Adventure (III).

Speaking of overworld themes, that’s what CD3 of this box set covers. Unknown World from the first Dragon Quest is probably one of the most famous little loops in jRPG history, which ol’ Koichi recycled in future pieces too, including Endless World (II) in Dragon Quest II. This piece also introduced the idea of overworld music serving as leitmotifs for your party characters, an idea explored amazingly for Dragon Quest IV’s ten-minute opus Comrades (IV). With just a few measures of music, you can glean the sort of person these funny little sprites are supposed to be: slow French horns signifying an honor-bound soldier, perky trumpets suggesting an impulsive princess, flutes and cellos for a jovial rotund merchant, spirited gypsy rhythms for a fiery dancer... you get the point. Once all these characters come together, the sound of a triumphant fanfare in Homeland ~ Wagon Wheel’s March (IV) swaggers its way to inevitable victory over the forces of evil. Oh my, I’m fanboying all over the place, aren’t I?

There’s no overworld theme for Dragon Quest V on this CD, that piece part of that game’s township medley instead for some reason. Later, as the games encompassed more than one world to explore (Dream dimensions! Underwater! The past!), they utilized the medley style themselves, though always came back to an adventurous ditty by the end.

That leaves a little space on CD3, where some of the sadder music in the Dragon Quest pantheon is found. Make Me Feel Sad (V) is an apt title, that game having some truly heart-wrenching moments throughout. Dragon Quest VII, meanwhile, gets two melancholic pieces, Days Of Sadness (VII) and Sarabrand (VII). That’s definitely a game that earns its tragic situations, believe you me.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 2

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

The success of Dragon Quest guaranteed a sequel. Hell, Yuji Horii had a franchise on his hands, though just how big the phenomenon would grow, few could know in those early days. At least as big as Mario, some had to assume, and like the series featuring super plumber brothers, a quick follow-up to the first game hit the shelves in Japan. Dragon Quest 2 was also brutal hard in that old-timey RPG way: excessive grinding, unfair puzzles, and wonky balancing. Ask any longtime Dragon Quest fan about the Road To Rhone, and you’ll be met with stares benefiting a PTSD survivor.

Not that I blame the game designers for the difficulty. They were no doubt learning how to expand upon their initial ideas as they went along, yet forced to meet deadlines without enough playtesting. Koichi Sugiyama may have felt similar constraints when composing for Dragon Quest II, the music not quite as memorable as the first game. Even II’s symphonic suite sounds flat compared to the other sessions.

Anyhow, CD2 of this box set features music heard as you stroll through the various towns of Dragon Quest, buying gear, engaging in gossip, discovering clues in what ‘they say…’ before embarking on a new mission. Sugiyama-san typically wrote these to sound folksy, bustling, and chipper, a respite from the grueling travels over the world. As the games grew more complex, it increased the various types of places you might visit, giving ol’ Koichi more freedom in the music he’d write. Around The World (III) features exotic locales like ancient Egypt and traditional Japan. In A Town (IV) gives us the series’ first instance of contemporary music with ragtime casino tunes, plus an epic crescendo for a coliseum tournament.

When the games made their jump to 16-bit and 32-bit, they could store an increased variety of music, which led to Sugiyama-san composing lengthier medleys. These couldn’t be summed up with simple names either, each piece quite distinct within each composition. Thus, we get titles like *deep breath*… Melody In An Ancient Town ~ Toward The Horizon ~ Casino ~ Lively Town ~ Melody In An Ancient Town (V) and *deep breath*… In The Town ~ Happy Humming ~ Inviting Village ~ Folk Dance ~ In The Town (VI). I think even ol’ Koichi realized that was getting cumbersome, simplifying Dragon Quest VII’s township medley down to Strolling In The Town (VII). See, it gets the same gist across.

Added to the end of CD2 are two love themes, Melody Of Love (V) and To My Loved One (VII). They primarily feature touching violin solos, followed by charming strings and flutes. As for why have such music, a major component of Dragon Quest V centers around your character finding a wife – gonna’ need a strong love theme to sell that story, yo’. And while your character doesn’t have as involved a storyline in Dragon Quest VII, you sure do witness many blossoming romances along the way. D’aw.

Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite "Dragon Quest" Complete CD-Box: Disc 1

SME Visual Works Inc.: 2003

So I'm a Dragon Quest fan (Dragon Warrior to all you O.G. RPG players out there). Sure, it was never the 'cool' option, but what it lacked in hardcore gameplay (your Ultimas) or style (your Final Fantasys), it made up for in pure, simplistic charm. It's a series that never had to oversell itself, remaining grounded in heart-warming tales of right and wrong, where altruism is its own reward. Bonking a few hundred Slimes for that shiny new copper sword wasn't such a bad way to pass the time either.

The success of Dragon Quest is a tale of all the right people falling into place. Game designer Yuji Horii finding a way of simplifying elements of computer RPGs for an eager Japanese audience just getting into their Famicom/Nintendo home consoles. Artist Akira Toriyama, hot off the success of his manga Dragonball, creating several iconic character and monster designs for the game. And, in an unprecedented move, composer Koichi Sugiyama coming on board to create a soundtrack for the game. Already experienced in films, TV, and anime, he helped change the craft of video games music, such that they'd no longer be rote, bleepy loops, but pieces of lasting standing. He set about doing this by writing the music as he would for a fully orchestrated composition, then squeezing it down such they'd mimic what he wrote with those tiny little soundcards. In the process, Sugiymama-san’s work for the first Dragon Quest game become just as iconic in Japanese pop culture as anything from the Mario and Zelda camps.

Remarkably, it proved so popular that actual interest grew in hearing these simple melodies performed with the backing of a complete orchestra. Who knows whether ol’ Koichi ever intended the compositions to be heard as such, but his series of symphonic suites became must-haves for every fan of the series, their success kicking off symphonic suites for other video games too. This particular box set gathers up the first seven Dragon Quest scores, arranging them based on themes and settings within the games themselves. As this is CD1, the music visited upon are the Overtures (re: title screen music) and the castle themes, which many a Dragon Quest adventure began.

I cannot deny hearing the opening trumpet fanfare of the Overture sends a ton of nostalgia endorphins flooding through my noggin, but seven straight versions of it is complete overkill. The first, Overture March (I), at least provides an extended play on the theme, and Roto (III) mixes things up with marching snares. Beyond that though, you’ve heard one Overture, you’ve heard them all.

The castle themes, however, are quite lovely, if you enjoy your sombre string section music. Chateau Ladustorm (I) is probably just as iconic a piece as anything from the first Dragon Quest game, though Menuet (IV) gives it a good run too. The latter games saw fit to add horns to the mix, but nothing beats those bassy cellos for setting a regal mood.

OutKast - The Love Below

Arista: 2003

Of course the reason a high percentage of folks bought OutKast's last (and final?) proper album was for that one song on Mr. Benjamin's solo effort, The Love Below. It was such a hit, such a smash, such a pop culture revelation, it turned André 3000 into a superstar overnight, the video serving as much a spotlight on his many stage talents as anything music related. It probably could have launched a semi-successful solo career had Hollywood not lured him away for so long, ushering in a new era of rappers forgoing the standard hip-hop beats of the day for more funk, soul, jazz, and blues fusions. Where you could croon to R&B while mixing in electro synths while sticking to a conceptual theme for the full eighty minutes a CD offered. Where you could be as quirky as you could go, all the while exposing a sensitive side almost unheard of in the world of rap. Come to think of it, hip-hop has come around to such developments in recent years, though most keep pointing to Kanye West as the spearhead, The Love Below practically forgotten these days.

Maybe hip-hop just wasn't ready for it. For sure they didn't mind influences from Prince and Funkadelic making their ways into their jams, but only for a track or three, and always with the sounds of the street kept intact. This was a full-on, take-it or leave-it indulgence, and save a few of those killer, undeniable earworms OutKast could always be counted upon, many left it in the rear view. Even those who only came for Hey Ya!, knowing nothing of the group's history in the Atlanta rap scene, were challenged by the oddities André 3000 wilfully filled The Love Below with. Lord knows when folks bring up this double-LP, they always speak of Speakerboxxx with more fondness, finding Big Boi’s ode to Southern hip-hop the easier to take of the two.

Listening to The Love Below a decade on, and all that lovely hindsight firmly reminding us this could end up being the final OutKast album, it makes things much easier to appreciate what André 3000 was shooting for here. For sure you can mix in some askew blues moments (Take Off Your Cool, Prototype) with your broken-beatnik electro (A Life In The Day Of Benjamin André, Pink & Blue). Or why not some frantic jazzstep (Spread, My Favorite Things) with classic jazz vibes (Love Hater, She’s Alive). Honestly, The Love Below sounds like Mr. Benjamin is exercising every muse he never fully explored in his years of OutKast, all in one go. The whole ‘love’ concept of the album is just something to hang all these disparate tunes on, and while it’s all interesting to hear, Lord help us if a b-side version of this is ever revealed. It probably didn’t need to run the full eighty minutes, though I cannot deny being intrigued by every next track as ol’ André reveals another of his many tastes.