Various - Mechanophobia (Original TC Review)

Trishula Records: 2006

(2014 Update:
This was my proper introduction to the then-current sound of dark psy, of which is plainly obvious as I'm often referring to it by an earlier sub-genre term that was common at the turn of the century. I honestly had no idea that the whole dark psy sub-scene had evolved into a ton of disparate night-themed sub-sub categories by the mid-'00s, but I sure did soon enough. At least there are still 'tekk' attributes on here, given the theme of the compilation. Hell, it's why I blindly picked it up to begin with. The CD's still fine for dark psy, but not one I pull out often. At least it introduced me to the awesome that is Olien though.

Oh, that opening paragraph? You'll have to wait until I reach the 'S's to find out what that's all about, if you don't already.)


IN BRIEF: Fear the machines.

Reviewing Armin van Buuren’s latest opus to the decay of popular trance left me a broken man. It took me into a reservoir of pent-up aggression which was finally unleashed, an ugly though necessary blemish on my otherwise tolerant track record. I needed time to let that scab heal, so I decided to indulge a little in that polar opposite of epic trance: psytekk.

For the uninitiated, psytekk is an offshoot of the psy trance scene. Fusing the cold mechanical aesthetics of techno and the warped soundscapes of psy, this style of music isn’t for the faint of heart. In the realm of psytekk, the machines are in total control, trampling whatever hope humanity may have without taxing a single circuit. Other times though, it just comes across as glitchy, minimal, sound-effects wankery. I suppose it depends on how much you buy into the themes the music attempts to create.

When compiling this release, Trishula Records decided not to pussyfoot the issue, and gathered a collection of the most current, uncompromising psy around. The cover art for Mechanophobia is quite clear in what kind of theme to expect here: the robots rule the roost, a barren landscape ideal for metal but nothing organic. Whatever life as we know it remains is paltry, insignificant, yet still struggling on despite the odds; a cool, if timeworn concept. Let’s see how it is put into practice here.

Our first track is from Mubali, produced specifically for this compilation. Also the titular cut, it gets us off on the right foot, consisting of sound effect samples any self-respecting Trekkie will recognize as background ambience of a Borg ship - and few things are as frightening as the concept of the Borg. The track progresses through an assortment of warped mechanical soundscapes while a stuttery, monotone bassline relentlessly growls with the driving rhythms. As with a lot of this kind of stuff, there really aren’t any noticeable hooks, merely passages where the sounds at work will find structure for a bit before moving onto something else. The final stanza does give us a brief hook though.

Japan Connection from Mind Distortion System is a little more traditional psy. The main hook that worms its way around is kind of a whispery shuffle while paranoid pads, stuttery psy synths, and quirky sound effects complement it. But, um, what’s with those pauses to play a sample of a folksy whistle tune? A clever joke that missed the mark? Perhaps, or I just don’t get it [edit: it’s from Kill Bill, 2006 Sykonee].

Anyhow, Polyphonia’s Ano Kato eradicates any trace of lingering goofiness from Japan Connection with an utterly uncompromising assault of menacing psytekk. No hooks or family-friendly rhythms here; just overbearing mechanical sound effects demolishing human sensibility. And the beats don’t let up either, pummeling away and growing ever increasingly aggressive as the sound effects do. Yeah, it’s a noisy, incoherent track that would definitely get plenty of “Turn that shit off!” complaints from those not hip to this stuff, but then Ano Kato isn’t trying to be anything but.

The Baba Jelly track aside - which has a goofier tone to it, including a pure ‘what the fuck?’ moment when a sample of some drunken pirate jig interrupts the track - much of Mechanophobia carries on in the same vein as Ano Kato: very driving, very mechanical, and very uninviting to the casual listener. You’d have to be completely absorbed in the atmosphere these tracks create if you hope to get anything out of them, as feeding you easily digestible melodies is furthest from these producers’ minds.

Unfortunately, the fact they all make use of the same sort of bass as outlined in the title track complicates things. Not only are the soundscapes uncooperative if you want something catchy, but the rhythms aren’t diverse enough, making things repetitive from track to track. Granted, there are slight differences the acute listener will pick out, and Olien’s Calamari carries some wicked resonance that’ll absorb you within its suffocating menace, but much of this will probably pass you by if you were to merely throw it on as background music.

The mold is finally broken with Procs’ bizarrely titled Big Fat Large Snoring Lamas. This is one of the most utterly demented tracks I’ve heard in quite some time. My best attempt at describing it goes something like this: a country-fair funhouse, controlled by insane clown droids, as seen through a distortion field while tripping on a hallucinogen. I don’t know if that makes sense, but Snoring Lamas is quirky fun anyways, just because the warped soundscapes and bouncy rhythms are still incredibly catchy without dipping into the cheese factory. Your attention will never stray, always intrigued by what bit of unpredictable madness will crop up next.

The compilation closes on Psyfactor’s Vodka Madness, a more typical excursion into psy trance’s arena than most of what we’ve heard throughout. It is still a dark, twisted track, but chunky acid hooks and oddball sounds form a more accessible foundation compared to everything else.

For those after a diverse assortment of tunes, Mechanophobia isn’t a remarkable compilation. It sticks to its theme throughout, and I suppose you can’t really fault it for that. There are a couple of shining moments which would grab a casual listener’s attention, but this is squarely aimed at the dark psy fans who enjoy their music as inhuman and non-musical as possible. The original industrial ethos lives on!

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Live At The Fillmore East

Reprise Records: 2006

Yeah, another Neil Young album. Get used to this, as we’re a long way from covering everything I've collected from the guy, to say nothing of that massive Archives box-set down the road. He's also a rocker who does utilize the word “Live” in the titles for his live albums a fair bit; fortunately, there's only a pair of them to deal with in the now, the first of which was the first to be released of the ongoing Performance Series project.

Apparently ol' Neil had a habit of recording damn near anything he had a chance to, including several gigs that might have a preferred rendition of new songs destined for future albums. For instance, The Needle And The Damage done, as appeared on Harvest (and thus every classic rock station ever), was from his performance on the Johnny Cash Show. More famously, he released Rust Never Sleeps as all live recordings from the tour he debuted those songs. Really, many songs from Rusty saw concert duty before showing up in LP form, sometimes years later at that.

And yep, we got some such tunes on this tidy six-tracker from Neil and his Crazy Horse band’s two-day Fillmore East gig in 1970. Wonderin’, sounding like a b-side to Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, didn’t appear on a proper Young album until 19-f’n-83, and in a “fuck you, Geffen” rockabilly album at that! There’s also Winterlong, which didn’t properly show up until the decade-spanning Young compilation titled Decade. Finally, Come On Baby Let’s Go Downtown, a Danny Whitten penned piece of blues-rock that appeared on Tonight’s The Night (though also on the first Crazy Horse album shortly after this gig – yes, the band released music on their own too, though little as memorable as what they did with Neil Young).

Hearing some authentic Danny Whitten era live Horse was a big selling point in issuing Live At The Fillmore East. Aside from the few studio recordings, about all that we whippersnappers had to go by his brilliance was hearsay and shitty bootlegs of concerts. I mean, sure, Cowgirl In The Sand and Down By The River were pretty darn cool tunes on the first Young Plus Horse album, but no better than anything else we’d hear from later efforts when Frank Sampedro replaced him.

Well shit, son, here’s a proper education in these matters, twelve minutes of River and a whopping fifteen minutes of Cowgirl, and not a wasted second in either. Damn it, I’m playing this version of Cowgirl in the background as I type this, and believe you me I want to stop and just listen to these musicians jam away. The Youngful Horses had some time to perfect their roles since the first ragged recording sessions – still can barely carry a vocal harmony, though.

Despite only being a smattering of their Live At Fillmore East runs, this remains a tasty treat for folks fully bitten by the Rusty Psycho Equus. Just might convince a few doubters too.

Perfect Stranger - Learning = Change (2013 Update)

Iboga Records: 2006

(Click here to wander the barren wastes of my old writing.)

*blink* ...*blink-blink*

Sorry about that. My eyes dried out while trying to read that old review of mine. I still couldn't get through it. In fact, just thinking about it has left my creative process a desolate desert. I'm utterly stumped on what to say in this Update. It's still a good prog-psy album, far better than most of the material Iboga Records churned out in later years. What kind of material? Ah, you don't want me to tell you, it's really not interesting. I'm going to though, aren't I, just to burn some word count here.

Iboga was making a name for itself in the mid-'00s as a worthy contributor to a growing prog-psy scene, their finest offerings easily on par with the likes of Spiral Trax. Then, for some totally daft reason, the Iboga roster started getting bit by the minimal bug. Their tunes often had a deeper, tribal tone to them, sandwiched between the driving, melodic numbers, but not any longer. Perfect Stranger, Iboga's main man remember, was particularly smitten by this trend, churning out some of the driest tracks you could imagine. I don't know if they ever recovered from that nonsense, as I lost touch with the label as this decade took form. Didn't want to bother springing for music if it was gonna' be the listening equivalent of traversing the Gobi Desert.

I did have a chance to see if Perfect Stranger had changed his sound this summer, as he was one of the headliners at the Shambhala Music Festival. Unfortunately, he was slotted for a ridiculously early time at the psytrance-worldbeat-hippieshit stage, at which point I was slotted to work on the clean-up crew as part of my volunteer duties. Yeah, after six years attending this festival, I gave back to that which gave so much to me – the early-entry, gettin' fed, warm showers, and cool co-workers was a good incentive too. That Friday evening shift, I rode around on the trash collection truck; dirty work true, but a lot of fun too, hopping on a moving vehicle chanting “Trash! Trash! Trash!” along the way, dancing to music whenever we neared one of the stages. It was one, big, moving party, keeping the grounds tidy and that.

Still, my fondest memory of that trip didn't occur at the festival, but the night before my travelling posse got there. We stayed overnight in a small town called Trail, famous for a massive steel mill in the centre. We thought maybe a pub might be open late, but as it was a holiday night, Trail's downtown was dead, not a soul on the street, and a disconcerting sight for us city goers. Meanwhile, looming in the background of this abandoned area lay the massive factory, its evening lights eerily illuminating massive smoke stacks billowing thick clouds into the warm summer night. A real steampunk sight for this day in age.

What? Oh hey, Learning = Change. Still worth a listen, it is. Trust.

Tiësto - In Search Of Sunrise 5: Los Angeles

Songbird: 2006

This was supposed to be In Trance We Trust 009, featuring Mark Norman. The bill of sale enclosed with my delivery claims this should be ITWT009. Even the barcode sticker on the back of the jewel case informs this should be ITWT009. Clearly, this is not ITWT009. It's Tiësto’s In Search Of Sunrise 5, a series that still falls under the Black Hole Recordings umbrella, but has nothing to do with the In Trance We Trust sub-label. I may as well review this regardless.

For a Mark Norman DJ mix, this sucks. No, wait, I haven't a clue what a Mark Norman DJ mix sounds like. If anything, at least where CD2 of this release is concerned, it sounds like a Markus Schulz set, a total bandwagon jump of twinkly McProg on Mr. Verwest's part. Ah, the Los Angeles tag makes sense now, likely suggesting this genre was wholly an American thing. Of course, using Miami as a setting would totally tip his hand, so here’s the West Coast instead. It’s also an excellent collection of the sound, all the big players bringing their spritely melodies, deep atmospherics, and grumbly basslines to the game (Alex Stealthy, Ozgur Can, Super8 & Tab, Global Experience, Jonas Steur, etc.). There’s not a duff cut in this mix, everything moving along with class.

In fact, I’m having a hard time believing this was all Tiësto’s doing. I’ve never heard such a smooth-flowing mix from the man. Always there’re those moments that leave you scratching your head. CD1 has a perfect example, the inclusion of Fonzerelli’s Moonlight Party early on, a single instance of electro house in a double-disc release where it has no place at all. It serves no context, and is utterly forgotten about by the end. Yeah, it’s that Basic Perspective cut totally stealing the show on CD1 doing that, rendering all those vocal cuts to the dustbin of forgotten hyped singles – I’m looking at you, Karen Overton.

Anyhow, In Search Of Sunrise 5 is definitely worth your attention if you’ve fond memories of this era of progressive trance. I personally didn’t, but listening to CD2 here, I’m warming up to it, like feeling the first rays of a sunrise. Wow, what sap.


Since this mix comes from a different branch of Black Hole Recordings, here’s a guest reviewer from another Capcom fighting game: Roy Bromwell, the “Strong-Armed American” of Rival Schools.

Roy: “I’ve no time for this nonsense. There's a football game coming up I gotta practice for. Hmph, it’s just because I’m American, isn’t it - that I know about everything here. You’re right, but this trance stuff? It’s not being played by an American, just some guy from Europe. Belgium, right? Tiffany’s into this stuff though, go ask her.”

Tiffany: “I get to review music? Oh, what fun! I looooovvveee Teesteo and his songs. I once went to a party, and there were lights, and glowsticks. Amazing! So’s this CD. So fun singing that JES song! Hey, where’re you going?”

Trentemøller - The Last Resort (Original TC Review)

Poker Flat Recordings: 2006

(2013 Update:
Oh my God, I thought ugly, bloated reviews like this one were a thing of my past by late '06. Way too much preamble about 'the state of the musics' in the early going, some of which is hilariously dated now. Mylo pushing "musical innovation"? Markus Schulz in the same sentence as Dirty Vegas and Audio Bullys? Save that kind of material for blog posts, guy, none of it has anything to do with Trentemøller. Right, I was attempting a segue into the notion of Anders becoming a proper breakout electronic music star, but even that angle is moot at this point. Despite earning all the accolades for The Last Resort, Trentemøller's faded off into the realms of indie rock, shoegaze, and other assorted music unfriendly for clubbers the world over. Hardly anyone speaks of his output anymore, at least in the same reverential tone as his mid-'00s breakout.

We should have seen it coming though. This album has all the hallmarks of an electronic music producer with more on his mind than straight-forward club cuts for DJs to rinse out, for which Trentemøller was heralded for, a successful risk taken and accomplished. Even the following tour with a live band was met with kudos. Had anyone known that road would lead to the realms of indie rock, however, I wonder if those same folks would have been so eagre to sing his praises.)


IN BRIEF: A light in the dark.

In a recent discussion with fellow writer J’, our discourse led to the topic a few troubles afflicting electronic music lately. We by no means felt it was in dire straits, mind, but when compared to the critical, popular, and creative highs seen in the 90s, this decade’s certainly falling behind. While there are a number of contributing factors for this, a major one we agreed upon was the lack of breakout star producers pushing musical innovation. Sure, we have our Felix da Housecats and Vitalics and Mylos and Stuart Prices, but that’s small compared to what the 90s gave us (The Future Sound Of London, Underworld, BT, Orbital... I could go on forever). And, most likely, it was the unfortunate fact electronic music’s marketing power decided to push DJs more than producers which caused this gap, leaving many potential talented new kids on the block buried underneath the hype behind the guy who plays their records.

With the idea of superstar DJs growing passé and some of the old guard moving on, electronic music is starved for new stars. Every whiff of commercial success gets jumped on by the media, proclaiming many a producer with some unique wrinkle or clever idea as the next big thing. Many of them die quick deaths though, most of the time due to the over-hype that comes with such desperation. Audio Bullys, Markus Schulz, Fischerspooner, Dirty Vegas: just a few names that could never have hoped to meet the expectations placed on them. So, it’s been with a degree of caution many have approached Anders Trentemøller as yet another possible candidate for Breakout Star status.

Already a prolific and accomplished remixer in the ‘minimal’ scene, his underground credibility has substantially grown with each project. His music, though usually sparse, tends to surround you in a mesmerizing atmosphere of dark, dubby, glitchy soundscapes while groovy tech house rhythms play out. And while such music has been known to get lost up its own ass, Trentemøller balances it out with playful human qualities. Quite often when listening to a ‘minimal’ set, the track that will eventually snag you into actually paying attention to the music will have Anders’ touch on it.

With the underground positively buzzing and other media types picking up on it (Trentemøller has already become a punch-line for dance music pretentiousness in some circles, although it’s hardly warranted), Anders’ star was definitely on the rise. Many wondered if he’d live up to the potential many expected of him when he finally dropped his first album, or if he’d flop like other hyped producers.

I suppose the outcome of this has already been settled, as many reviews of The Last Resort have come and gone since the album was released this past October. And they have been good. Very good. In fact, Trentemøller’s debut exceeded many expectations in that he delivered a release that defied what you were supposed to get out of ‘minimal.’ Having finally managed to sit down and listen to it (living on the other side of the world often means delays... well, at least if you want to remain honest about getting albums), I must say I’m inclined to agree.

The opening track, Take Me Into Your Skin, gives us clear indication of the kind of eclecticism to expect on The Last Resort. Yes, you have your usual radio transistor drones and beluga whale clicks and micro beats that you’d expect from the minimal camps. However, Trentemøller uses such sounds as window dressing - the meat and potatoes of this track are the orchestral swells and building percussion, much of which caps off in a cacophony of sound. Easing us through it all are warm melodic tones that tenderly embrace you, like a reassuring friend guiding you down a dark path.

And with that sentence, we come to the reason for Trentemøller’s success as a musician: his songs demand metaphorical representation for description, as he creates mental imagery with his stark soundscapes. As such, the music on The Last Resort can be very personal for the listener. I could detail at great length the sort of things Anders’ music touches my psyche with but part of the charm of music in general is how it affects everyone individually, so I’ll leave that part up to you to discover for yourself.

Genres are skillfully hopped and blended without a care whether they fit into convention. Anders definitely displays a love for dub, as tracks like Evil Dub, Nightwalker, and Chameleon show. However, he doesn’t limit himself to what is expected of such music, having no problem throwing in a few glitchy squelches or dark ambient drones should it warrant it.

Other times, an affinity for score work becomes apparent, and will come as a surprise to long-time Trentemøller fans used to his club friendly output. The duo combo of Like Two Strangers and The Very Last Resort showcases just how adept at it he is. Amongst orchestral swells and pleasant bells, the former maintains a tender, if uncertain, atmosphere. Sliding into The Very Last Resort though (and tracks on here do slide into one another with ease, as any good album does), a gripping desolate feeling overcomes you. Paranoid guitars, choking sound effects, and uncertain, wandering melodies surround you with unease. It’s like The Future Sound Of London at their darkest moments.

There are other dark moments as well, such as tracks like the minimal Snowflake, but Anders does exhibit an occasional sense of fun too. Vamp in particular is a welcome jazzy romp, and the glitchy quirkiness breaking up the pleasant orchestral moments of While The Cold Winter Waiting are cute. Those aching for a club beat will find the dub techno excursion of Into The Trees satisfying.

Amongst all these various emotions Trentemøller tugs at with his music, he is most effective when he touches the tender side of sound. No matter the general feeling of a track, throughout The Last Resort you have a sense of hopeful longing, and that finally pays off towards the album’s end. Moan and Miss You are quiet, contemplative songs with comforting melodies, always a classy way to cap off an album.

Hmm. In spite of all this glowing praise, I still detect a smattering of doubt out there. I suppose Trentemøller’s association with ‘minimal’ won’t go away any time soon, and those who fear that style of techno are worried The Last Resort will be nothing more than monotonous droning, no matter what anyone says. While big riffs and boshing beats and screaming synths definitely aren’t to be found here, this shouldn’t keep you from getting this album. Even if you don’t have the patience to sit down and just listen to music, The Last Resort works just as easily as a background soundtrack - there are more than enough intriguing sounds throughout which will draw your attention, no matter how distracted by other tasks you may be.

Is Anders the potential star electronic music could use? The Last Resort certainly makes a strong claim in his favor. He’s displayed the ability of a producer who doesn’t feel constrained by what is expected of him and the skill to pull it off expertly. Trentemøller’s debut should stand up as one of the few classics of this decade future releases will be compared to. Believe this hype.

Note: You’ve probably noticed this review doesn’t contain coverage of the second CD that came with the initial release. Although I have heard it, because it was merely a limited edition bonus it’s rather pointless to discuss it at this point. This version is now the official release. However, I will mention should I have had the chance to cover it, the double-disc version of The Last Resort would have secured a rare five star rating from me. Yes, it’s that good too.

Terry Lee Brown, Jr. - Karambolage

Plastic City: 2006

As Terry Lee Brown Jr., Norman Feller’s made a career of making deep house music for those who don’t really like deep house music. That’s not a criticism. The deep house scene has a long, long lineage, with many permutations and variations cropping up over the years, and as such several layers of ‘deep’ for any head to dig into. When Feller started producing under this guise (probably due to his proper name already being associated with hard trance), Europe already had a thriving deep house scene in swing, though of a decidedly different bent than America's take. Instead of drawing inspiration from soul, funk, and jazz, the Old World used blissy pads and Balearic vibes in their interpretation of 'deeper than thou' tunes, and Feller was no different when he started out. Yet, there was something a little different to his sound too, a tight techno aesthetic to his grooves (just can't escape being German). It was like... 'tech-house', or something, but no way such a silly term would catch on in the mid-'90s. Deep house was good enough.

A decade on from Terry Feller's take on 'deep tech-house', and suddenly the sound is all the hipster rage, made popular by several of his fellow Germans no less. Except it's not quite the same, more minimalistic, glitchy, and clinical than the classic euro deep house feel. Since that was where the trends were heading, ol' Norman had no choice but to step in line by ...making the exact same sort of music as Terry Lee Brown Jr. as he ever had.

So Karambolage has a win/loss thing going for it, depending on your stance. If you've always liked his sound, then you're in safe hands here, as this album is all sorts of class with that distinct, nicely approachable vibe Norman's long been ace at. The pads are warm and lush, the rhythms bump and groove, the vocal samples are tasteful, and the hooks are earwormy enough that you’ll never want a track to end. That said, there aren’t any surprises here, which has always been the complaint with a Terry Lee Brown, Jr. album. Feller’s found a formula that works, and four LPs in, doesn’t have much reason to shake it up.

If there’s anything that identifies Karambolage from the other albums, I guess it’d be more of a dubby, dreamy tone compared to the straight-forward tribal tone earlier Terry material had - tracks like Moody Afternoon, Dub_servant, and Time Out don’t sound too removed from Frameless Structure, while Side Of The Shark would be quite comfortable in a peak time late-‘90s Digweed set . Don’t worry though, denizens of the dancefloor, as It’s All About, Fix Me Up, and Cosmic Rise are just as indebted to Chicago of yore as any of Terry’s classic cuts.

Karambolage isn’t an album that will astound you with ingenuity. It’s Norman Feller doing his thing as always, and for anyone willing to give it a go, that’s plenty enough.

Solieb - Integrale / Inside

Maschine: 2006

Solieb is Oliver Lieb, a not so important person in the world of techno, even though by all rights he should- Eh? You say this is redundant information? Well, sure, I did a Solieb review half a month ago, but did you read it? No, not you, the other you, standing behind you, creeping, stalking, waiting for that perfect moment to whap you with a comedy inflatable mallet that squeaks upon impact. What do you mean that's bizarrely specific? Look, until you turn around, can you claim this person in a clown-ninja outfit isn't there? I realize this is one of those 'fallen tree, can anyone hear?' questions, but if you don't look behind, you can't disprove any more reliably than I can prove. And surely you're here at this blog because you trust me on something; most likely opinions on electronic (plus other) music, but still.

Anyhow, here's the gist of this release for all the cyborg-ninja-clowns that have joined us in the past couple weeks. Solieb is Oliver Lieb, a not so important person in the world techno, even though by all rights he should be. Dude’s been a part of the German club culture since even before the Berlin Wall came down, and was highly instrumental in helping establish the burgeoning Harthouse label. Yet, he didn’t quite mesh with Sven Väth’s outlook. One kept looking to the stars, the other kept having weird parties in Frankfurt basements. And besides, all that spacey sci-fi techno wasn’t going to fly in the ‘techno are serious’ scenes. So off on the Starship L.S.G. ol’ Oliver flew away on for a while, reaching stars he’d seldom seen in that old lab filled with spices (Väth was into some weird things). After returning to Earth, however, his re-entry had some complications, and the Starship L.S.G. crashed and burned after a glorious ten years of service. Somehow, Captain Ollie ended up near his old Harthouse haunt and, reminded of the wacky-doo times his former compatriot Väth would get up in, made a new track called Circus Maximus. But... the old bitter resentment persisted so, so to make sure no one knew who was behind the track, Mr. Lieb crafted a new alias to hide behind, that no one could trace back to him. The new alias was Solieb. Uh... did I mention ol’ Oliver wasn’t the most creative chap in those regards?

Okay, enough made-up silliness (been whapped upside the head by inflatable comedy mallets too much, methinks). How is this particular Solieb single? The A-Side features Integrale, which I recall being my first exposure to Lieb’s new stuff, appearing on Jimmy Van M’s Balance mix. For plinky-plonk minimal, it’s alright, certainly better than a lot of other stuff that was to follow. Inside on the B-Side is more fun, a skippity-skip marching rhythm and machine-lovin’ electro-clop sounds. It might even make sense in one of Väth’s sets from around the time. Say, an olive branch from Oliver Lieb? New alias alert!

Sounds From The Ground - High Rising

Waveform Records: 2006

Now this one, this is where one should check out Sounds From The Ground first. I can’t go so far as to say it’s the London duo’s best album, but of their Waveform releases, it’s definitely one of their most consistent LPs from front-to-back. With a title like High Rising, you might expect soaring sonics and uplifting melodies, but this is an incredibly subdued CD, executing ambient dub in ways that sounds boundless despite not venturing stylistically far. I guess Jones and Woolfson had finally got their sound… down to the ground? Ah heh… um, yeah, no.

I should make something clear right off the bat: if you've never had an ear for ambient dub, High Rising isn't likely to change your mind on the genre. Frankly, I'm unsure what sort of album would. Like so many dub variants of music, it's the sort of sound you're either into, faults and all, or figure just a bunch of mindless, middling musical-fluff only spliff heads could vibe on. This is a good album for those who enjoy the music, for sure, but if you're in need of something easier to get acquainted with, maybe start from the source in those classic Beyond Ambient Dub compilations.

Back to Sounds From The Ground, they'd been in the game for a good decade, and though occasionally exploring other forms of downtempo and chill, their bread and butter remained ambient dub. So if fans were to be treated to a full album of them doing what they did-done best, it must have been oh-so sweet catnip. Like if Oliver Lieb were to make a trance album again. Or Markus Schulz playing McProg again. Or Deltron making any music again (ooh, it’s finally here!).

Even within its relatively narrow confines, High Rising does offer some diversity of style for the discerning ambient dub head. There's the slight touch of bleepy techno on tracks like Rotorblade and Slate Grey. Viper Style has dashes of world beat, while Gaudi shows up in Palmprint for a proper reggae dub jam. As the cover art might hint at, some city-cool trip-hop action crops up in Beautiful Feeling and Blink. Finally, showing they were also clued into the growing popularity of psy dub, final tracks Speedbumps and Allsorts sound like they’d fit snuggly on an Ultimae collection.

In some ways, that the follow-up of Brightwhitelight coming off mediocre isn’t so surprising anymore. How could Jones and Woolfson top High Rising when everything on here is superbly crafted while staying true to just the essentials? (yeah yeah, I’m probably overhyping it) Small wonder they released an ‘odds-n-sods’ collection after that one, then started properly exploring different roads of downtempo with their next few albums. Those are reviews for much later though. Meanwhile, if you’ve just a passing curiosity about Sounds From The Ground, High Rising’s definitely the one to scope out first. Unless, of course, you can afford to splurge on the whole lot.

Solieb - Impersonator

Maschine: 2006

Screw all those trance pansies, ignoring a great album like The Hive in favour of the latest Dutch monstrosity. Time to take your work back underground, Lieb, away from the limelight and expectation of the mainstream clubbing consciousness. New label, strictly vinyl, no hype. Or, y'know, just hop on the trendy minimalist techno bandwagon, since it's a style of music you've yet to explore much of. Yeah, challenge the muse! Whatever excuse for this change of direction you want to go with.

The Solieb project was more than just a departure in music for ol’ Oliver: it also marked the start of going into business for himself, establishing his own Maschine imprint through which he released music under the new moniker. It was a bold step, in that he no longer could rely on larger labels to do the heavy promotions for him. Judging by how much the Solieb stuff got licensed out compared to L.S.G. or Spicelab, it doesn’t appear he was as concerned with that aspect of label running. Surely the good graces of name recognition alone would propel him to success. Eh...

Look, I can’t blame Lieb for wanting to make serious techno musics after so long of wading through the oceans of trance, but everyone was making serious techno musics in the mid-‘00s (yay hypberbole!). Why not try house music? Or jungle? Maybe even acid jazz! Could that German heritage of his just not help it, eager to show all these new producers what real machine music was capable of, from a native of the nation that invented machine music? Fair enough, but man, this better be some next-level shit if you’re gonna stand out from all the Hawtin wannabes.

Oh, wait, the Solieb stuff was only released on vinyl. I don’t collect vinyl. Dammit, Oliver, you’re not only challenging my dedicated consumption of your craft, but now forcing me down the internet backroads to procure it? Why are you making it so difficult for me to like this new project? How about some sort of ‘collected works’ CD option? If even that wacky Ricky D. James guy did it for his Analord series, surely something similar can be done for the Solieb stuff. Okay, enough grumbling over catering to my selfish needs. It’s time to listen to a bunch of your serious techno musics.

As chance would have it, a pair of tracks I ‘acquired’ made up the Impersonator EP, released when Solieb was gaining enough steam for folks to finally take notice (“Wait, it’s that Netherworld guy?” “Uh, yeah, name’s a dead giveaway.”). The titular A-side is quite a bangin’ bit of techno, with plenty of polyrhythmic percussion, noisy synths, and messy sound effects that has ‘peak hour’ square in its sights. I likes. The B-side, Stay High, plays up the trendier side of techno in ’06, with a shufflin’ tech-house groove and random squelchy noises. It’s... not so interesting. Wow, who’d have thought all that ‘forward-thinking minimal techno’ would sound dated already?

Markus Schulz - Ibiza '06 (Original TC Review)

Moist Music: 2006

(2013 Update:
Are these the same CDs? Yeah, the problems I bring up in this bloat of an old review (1500 words - you've been warned) are there, but they aren't as big of a deal as I remember them. Was I really so burned out on trance that year? Perhaps, as McProg truly was stale by the end of '06. It's not much of a surprise almost all the jocks, including Schulz, were moving on to other things within the year. Yet after hearing Ibiza '06 out of that context, in the here and now, I find there's a lot more to enjoy than I initially gave it credit for. Maybe that's all it takes, eh? Let an overplayed genre of music sit fallow for a few years, then return to it with fresh ears and (hopefully) matured insight. Then, and only then, can you properly take the music on its own merits, not weighed down by excessive marketing but as the original producers intended. Yeah...

Nah, this stuff's honestly just of higher quality than all the side-chaining, electro, 8th notes, and noise that followed in McProg's wake. If anything, Ibiza '06 can be regarded as the genre's last gasp of glory. If you enjoyed the stuff but passed this by because of genre fatigue when it first hit the streets, maybe take another look. After all, it's not like you're gonna be getting anything new in this style.)

IN BRIEF: Pleasant atmosphere, but little else.

We passed an anniversary of sorts this last week. Prior to November 2005, TranceCritic was still a relatively low-key review site with a small but consistent reader-base. We’d cause a stir here and there with some of our more opinionated reviews, but nothing drastic. That all changed though, when one of our writers, Cobalt, gave a less-than-favorable review on the debut artist album from Miami-based DJ Markus Schulz.

The aftermath of this review resulted in a slew of hate mail from Schulz’ loyal, dedicated, almost cult-like fanbase, a flaming the likes we’ve yet to see since. Of course, for a fledgling site such as ours, that kind of publicity did wonders to increase our profile, and in a weird sort of way, we owe some thanks to The Cult Of Schulz for that. Therefore, it seems fitting we should sit here with a new release from Mr. Schulz a year later, this time in the form of a DJ mix.

Much has happened in clubland this past year, and Schulz’ profile has diminished during this time. For a DJ who was apparently on the road to superstar status, this comes as a bit of a shock. After all, he’d done everything required to be amongst the big players: solid underground reputation; unique accessible style of music; popular internet radio show; cult-like fanbase to preach the Gospel of Schulz everywhere they went. What went wrong?

Two things, by my eyes. Firstly, the aforementioned debut album tanked at a point when a solid release would have cemented his status in clubland. It chased away his underground following and was met with apathy from casual folks, leaving only his newer fans to enjoy the results. Naturally, he continued pandering to this new fanbase, but it lead to the second problem: popular tastes were rapidly changing. His brand of feather-light prog was wearing thin by the end of 2005, especially with dirty tech the burgeoning hot sound. All the hype surrounding Schulz’ rising star faded away, the Swedish House Mafia now the topic of discussion.

It’s safe to say all the momentum his career had been building significantly slowed down this year. Obviously, he still has plenty of tour dates and the Cult of Schulz remains as loyal as ever, but one gets the impression he’s reached a crossroad in his musical direction. Should he carry on with his ‘McProg’ sound that helped him gain all that momentum in the first place, even though it has grown stale? Or might it be best to search new avenues, taking his old ideas along with him?

Ibiza ‘06 is this year’s annual mix from the Schulzer, representing the sort of music he played at his residency on the island this past summer. Additionally, he’s decided to showcase mostly new talent here rather than make a mix with obvious anthems, which as the head of a label (Coldharbour, d’uh) is always smart business practice. If Markus has moved on or stayed the course, we should find our answer here. Into the player goes Disc 1.

And judging from the opening chunk of tracks, Schulz is still playing his ‘twinkle’ prog (heh, there’s a million-and-one terms for it). If you still haven’t heard of it, McProg tends to have heavy grooves, airy sweeping effects, and, the clincher, little melodies that sound like they were sampled from ballerina toy boxes. It makes for pleasant music but doesn’t have the depth of other forms of prog. The fact most of it is similarly arranged like epic trance (lots of long unnecessary breakdowns and builds) has caused many of the progressive elite to disown the sound altogether. Still, it is charming music when handled well.

And Markus does handle this sound very well for the first half of disc one. Benya’s Mimas may have you rolling your eyes, mind, but after that we are taken into some nice, grooving tracks with deep, immersive soundscapes. Progresia and Francis Blaid offer synthy hooks as well in their tracks for those who like something to hum along to.

Addictive brings the rhythmic intensity up, and it seems this mix is ready to be taken to the next level. Then, the breakdown hits; and, God, is it awful. Seriously, that wailing... guitar, is it? Who knows, but it’s terribly hokey (but probably will be a smash anyway) and the complementing trancey hooks in the build are so rote, it kills the mood in an instant. A shame, because Monakhov’s follow-up Feels Lonely is an interesting track, with a nifty grumbling bassline. It certainly would have segued better from Mystery than Addictive.

From here, this mix goes absolutely nowhere. Oh, there’s some nice sounding tracks to be had - Benz & MD’s Turning The Curves is a wonderful euphoric trancer, and Technology & Computer is a decent groover - but Markus seems interested in showcasing songs rather than making any kind of thematic set. If there is a theme, it’s the running amiable atmosphere these tracks provide. Unfortunately, many of them contain lackluster hooks, most of which you’ll forget after the disc finishes. Well, maybe Chuck Luis’ Collision will be remembered, but only because it’s such a laughable try-hard.

Most telling though, is the second half doesn’t contain any of Schulz’ trademark sound. It would appear he’s moving into standard van Buuren styled trance, although with a thicker groove and slightly less emphasis on the uplift. How does this affect discero numero deux, then?

By going all trance, it would seem, but don’t run away just yet. Ormatie establishes a deep atmosphere, and Joonas Hahmo brings us the groove with a charming hook, which opens the second CD promisingly.

Some pleasant deep tracks go by, including a little bit of twinkle in Glimmer if you still crave it, but these are just warm-ups for YearZero, which is vintage Andy Moor: chopped-up vocals, angelic pads, twinkly melodies, and body-movin’ rhythms. Well, Orkidea has a hand in this track too, but folks will be thinking Moor all the way here. He might have become predictable as fuck, but Andy’s style does work, and YearZero makes for a nice peak in this mix. Achems [sic?] Razor from Kenneth Thomas works nicely as a follow-up, with a simple, pounding lead and mechanical sound effects.

Markus pulls a surprise in throwing down some techno from Roland Klinkenberg, which for a moment made me think we were going to see a completely unexpected tangent from the Schulzer. Alas, it’s not to be, but it does change the focus of this mix, leading us into deeper pastures where lots of floaty pads and minor melodies dominate. It’s an utter bore though, with rudimentary hooks, placid rhythms, and very little sticking in your mind. Sure, I enjoy some atmospheric soundscapes in my trance, but when it’s done in a DJ set, it had better lead to something, and none of these tracks do. It’s just track after track of similarly arranged tunes, and no interesting flow at all.

Even more damning is the fact the final stretch suffers from ‘too-many-breakdowns’ syndrome. This isn’t an energetic set to begin with, so you’d think excessive breakdowns wouldn’t be a problem. Yet by the time Markus’ own First Time hits, it’s become annoyingly predictable. A couple of interesting sounds will briefly draw your attention (Sassot’s Where It All Began probably the best of the lot), but most of it will fade from your memory by the end. Altogether, not a remarkable finish.

It is quite clear Markus has shifted his musical focus, as much of his old sound is absent. While I respect his decision to change, he could have chosen something better than what we have here. Instead of a unique, if simple, form of prog, Schulz seems to have been converted to the Armada trance sound, and most of Ibiza ‘06 follows their manifesto: airy, melodic trance without an original idea in it that hasn’t been aped from the year 2001. In this regard, Markus just sounds like a slightly slowed-down mellow Armin, which isn’t going to do him any favors if he wants to make a bigger name for himself.

Ultimately, there’s very little on Ibiza ‘06 that distinguishes Schulz from the Armada pack. There’s a bit more emphasis on groove and atmosphere, but it’s still Armin’s style of trance, which has been stale for ages. Markus doesn’t bring anything new to the table here, and if he continues down this road, he’s going to be stuck in van Buuren’s shadow for a long time to come.

William Orbit - Hello Waveforms (2013 Update)

Sanctuary Records: 2006

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

Truth is, when I first launched this blog back in 2010, I never bothered looking at stats. I cannot deny it was partially due to ego (“don't wanna know how few are reading, don't wanna know how few are reading...”), but I wasn't expecting much anyway, so barely gave it thought. Fast forward over two years later, and I'm surprised that the blog was sitting just fine in all that time, ready to pick up right where I left off (with a few aesthetic adjustments). Well, just to sate curiosity, let's see what kind of stats I did gather in my absence.

To be honest, there wasn't anything remarkable, except for one anomalous item: my original review of William Orbit's Hello Waveforms had gained nearly four times the amount of hits as anything else! What the hell? I knew spambot spikes sometimes artificially inflate numbers, but this was bizarrely out of the ordinary. Was it being linked from somewhere? Ah, sort of. Turns out the cover image was highly ranked in Google Image searches, which is kind of cool. Maybe someone even checked out the actual review too!

Oh God, I hope not. It's really one of the weaker ones I ever wrote, struggling to find anything of substance to say in the ol' track-by-track method. It's weird to think a high-profile release like a new William Orbit album would garner such mediocre reactions, but can any of you seriously recall much about it, beyond the nifty cover art? There was nothing sonically groundbreaking as he crafted during his Strange Cargo period, nothing charmingly indulgent as found on Pieces In A Modern Style, and certainly nothing as radio-ready friendly as his productions with Madonna and Sugababes. Instead, Hello Waveforms finds Mr. Orbit at a meeting ground between all three, with little offensive to the ears (unless you just can't stand girly vocals on Spiral and They Live In The Sky), yet even less you'll be compelled to reach for again if you're well versed in the world of chill out music. Except Who Owns The Octopus?, that one's still mint!

I wouldn't go so far as to say Hello Waveforms derailed ol' William's career, but boy was he ever forgotten about in the pop world shortly after, the promised 'upbeat' follow-up My Oracle Lives Uptown passing by with barely a blip (is it any good?). Trouble is music of this sort can easily drift through one’s head without much fanfare, an almost death knell when written about with a customary 6/10 score. There's a word for it... oh, what was it? Amiable? Charming? No, wait, I remember! Cordial! No, that's not it. Cheerful? G'ah, not it at all. It started a 'p', didn't it? Pleasing! Nope, something more like mild. Homey? Maybe congenial? Copacetic? What the hell does that even mean?

Whatever. Hello Waveforms is something like that, and has held up in an unassuming way. Not really a critical album to own, but pleasant enough. Hey, that’s the

Various - Global Underground 29: Sharam - Dubai

Global Underground Ltd: 2006

Though I ordered all these used Global Undergrounds at the same time, 29 took over a week longer to arrive. Was there something special about Sharam's offering? I know the detail-blurb mentioned it was an “Ltd.Ed” copy, but surely it's not one of those copies of Global Underground - the super-expensive, long cardboard package with the large photo-booklet?

Sure is. Holy shit, and I got one for a pittance? Who cares if it's just Sharam, these deluxe packs are pimp, classing up any bookshelf they happen to occupy. I'm astounded someone wanted rid of it at only five-percent its regular price. So long as the discs work fine–

And CD1 is missing. Oh.

Gee, The Club (title of the first disc) isn’t that bad. Spider & Legaz’ Look Around has a funky house-jam going for it, Sultan & Ned Shepard provide a pleasant Balearic tune with Together We Rise, and... er, what’s with all the McProg? True, Deep Dish occasionally skewed pop, but their mixes were often deep and classy enough to forgive them for it. Free of Dubfire’s “music are serious” tendencies though, it seems Sharam went and unlocked his inner Tiësto, playing the sort of music you’d expect on CD1 of an In Search Of Sunrise mix. Hilariously, The Club only gets properly good as a set when Sharam goes full-cheddar towards the end, his attempts at breaking up the early vocal tracks with bumpin’ tech-house wrecking whatever flow the set tries to build.

This could not have been appealing for the Global Underground faithful. Paul van Dyk? Motorcycle? Folks were clamouring for the series to shake things up from the Deep Dish-Lavelle-Warren tedium that’d settled in, but I highly doubt they wanted things going in this direction - might as well check out Armada’s output instead.

CD2 is an even more bizarre affair, and not because it’s given the utterly unhelpful title of The Hub. Track selection is all over the place, going from pure funk house of The Reese Project's Direct Me at the start, then jumping around various forms of deep-pop (!?) prog house without any sense of flow, occasionally with a good tune dropped along the way (the twinkle-prog bliss of Simon & Shaker’s Zero, or Spider & Legaz’ dark Psych). No, check that, it's Sharam showing off a bunch of Yoshitoshi cuts, so I guess 'the hub' is simply Deep Dish's head office.

Easiest way to sum up CD2 is the utterly baffling choice Sharam makes in placing Felipe & Nicholas Bacher's kick-ass tribal-techno Manitou a mere two tracks after Armin van Buuren's limp-Balearic vocal cut Who Is Watching, then Planet Funk’s equally wack ‘rocktronica’ Everyday two tracks after Manitou! Given the musical surroundings, techno anywhere on these two CDs would have been a stretch, but Sharam’s weak set construction hardly allows him to go from tepid to tough and back in such a ballsin’ fashion. If he was so adamant in playing techno, might as well have pulled an Oakenfold and mixtape it.

Various - Fabric 27: Matthew Dear As Audion

Fabric: 2006

*cover art brought to you by Fabric's 'Deconstruction Of Photography Destruction' period*

In the mid-'00s, if you were given a birth name of Matthew, you stood a good chance of being a very important person in the world of techno. Thinking about it, I can recall only three such folk of significant prominence, but it sure seemed like an invasion of Matthews for a while there; kind of similar to all those Jameses taking over prog-glitch.

Of the Triple-Matts, Dear's career seems to have languished in the middle of the pack of prosperity. He's still a recognized name, but interest in his style of music doesn't garner as much buzz as it once did. Listening to his Fabric mix, I'm still baffled how it generated buzz in the first place. Yeah, yeah, minimal was the fucking trendiest shit in the world back in 2006, but good lord does it offer some of the most utterly wank moments electronic music has ever produced (and this is coming from a guy who's digested copious amounts of dark psy).

That’s jumping ahead though. For Mr. Dear’s contribution to the Fabric series, he chose his Audion guise, where he often indulged in the most minimalicious of minimal’s aesthetic. Though it wasn’t the first time Fabric tapped a producer of such ilk, number 27 came out around the time the sound was surging out of backroom obscurity, so I guess some kudos to the label for capturing the trend on the rise (unlike nearly everyone else the following year). As such, there’s some good stuff early in this mix, hinting at the fun potential of minimal tech-haus. Dubby, dark, and just enough groove to keep your attention whether on a dancefloor or with headphones.

Then he ruins things about a third of the way through, going on a tedious tour highlighting all that makes minimal-tech a chore. It doesn’t seem like at first, as Ruede Hagelstein’s Keep Us Away choice of quirk-sound reminds me of charming, cheesy ‘50s sci-fi UFOs. After that though... g’uh. Plinky-plink in Sweet ‘n Candy’s Tacky Wakeup, retarded vocals in Claude vonStroke’s Deep Throat, swishing water in Ali Khan’s Waterbomb, and aimless nonsense in Argy’s A Rhino In A Glass Shop. There’s no atmosphere or rhythmic foundation in these tracks; just sound-effect showcases, and not very interesting ones either.

Even Mr. Dear seems aware of the go-nowhere tangent he’s taken, as he abruptly shifts gears on Robert Babicz’s Battlestar, taking things into sludge tech-house territory. And I quite like this part, what with a return to groove, mood, and even an actual melody in Âme’s Rej (not yet overplayed when this was released). With an easy lead-out featuring other prominent names like Troxler, Villalobos, and Luciano, Fabric 27 ends well enough.

Was This Worth The Pennies Paid For It?
I suppose. Two-thirds of the mix sound fine by my ears, and Dear’s mixing is clinically clean, as most minimal mixes typically are. Doubt I’ll reach for this again anytime soon though.

Ghostface Killah - Fishscale

Def Jam Recordings: 2006

For the Wu-Tang Clan, the first half-decade of our current millennium was spent spinning wheels. Often, whatever momentum they’d create for themselves was followed with mediocre duds or nothing at all. Aside from Ghostface Killah, that is. He opened the ‘00s with the underground classic Supreme Clientele (considered so because the album got hardly any press at the time), and though his subsequent material never reached that lofty peak again, he remained consistent as the decade wore on.

Fishscale came out at about the time most had written the Clan off and Ghost was thought as a strong solo artist in no need of his posse anymore. All the more surprising, and welcome even, that Raekwon shows up on a number of the cuts, not to mention a proper Wu joint with 9 Milli Bros. Though the two had guest-versed repeatedly on each other’s albums, it was Rae’s Only Built For Cuban Linx that’d been regarded as the definitive Rae-Ghost showcase. Perhaps in a bid to recapture the fire that inspired that one (not to mention no one knew whether there’d ever be another Cuban Linx at this point), at least a quarter of Fishscale deals with crime stories and cocaine usage. Unlike so much other gangster rap, it’s never glamorized, yet nor is it ever villainized either. Best example of this is the second cut Kilo, where over a simple funk-beat supported by sounds of snorting and metal-on-porcelain, Ghost and Rae tell us the in-and-out of dealing on the street as it is, and nothing more.

In going back to those roots, Ghost seems inspired to revisit other things that worked on prior albums. The longtime ‘70s soul sampling is in full effect of course, mostly used in tracks like The Champ and Be Easy where Mr. Coles goes bravado on us. Elsewhere, reflective moments of childhood get another nod with Whip You Down With A Strap, where ol’ Dennis ponders whether he deserved some of the beatings his momma gave him. He also finds time for extraneous topics like going to the barber shop (in the short tune Barbershop, which has a ridiculously hard kick for such a silly tune). And the ladies? Whether telling tales of cocaine addicts (Big Girl) or how he’ll give them the chance to change for the better in Momma, Ghost keeps things smooth. Guess he realized if you’re gonna make an album that’ll appease all parties, the women need their tunes too.

When Fishscale came out, it was hailed as an instant classic under the Wu banner, and few thought it could be topped. While I agree it ranks among Ghostface’s top albums, something funny happened to the Clan after this one: they got good again. Not brilliant, mind, but many of their releases are on par with Fishscale. Ironically, Ghost’s album lost its ‘classic’ status as a result, and now is simply considered a “Top 10 ‘00 Wu Release”. Still not a bad distinction.

Banco de Gaia - Farewell Ferengistan (Original TC Review)

Six Degrees Records: 2006

(2013 Update:
I think this was among the last of my track-by-track reviews, and it's too damn long as a result. Did Ynys Elen really need that much detailing? Of course not! Yeesh. One could probably chalk the length to inexperience in handling over-enthusiastic fandom while writing, as Banco de Gaia remains one of my all-time favorite acts. It'll be interesting to see how I'm forced to curtail it since his upcoming album, Apollo, definitely falls within one of my alphabetical stipulations.)


IN BRIEF: Banco’s back on form

To say the last Banco de Gaia album (You Are Here) was met with lukewarm responses may be generous. While not a bad album, it seemed to lack a coherent theme and purpose, resulting in a listen that was disjointed and confusing. Many followers of Toby Marks’ music wondered if he was feeling a musical burnout, or if You Are Here was merely an experiment that didn’t quite hit the mark. Judging from the material on his new album, Farewell Ferengistan, it seems the latter may have been the case.

Yes, my friends, Marks indeed found his groove once more. While the production definitely comes off more focused this time out, the major improvement is the lack of preach that hampered the last album. Marks often injected political thoughts and ideas in his works, but rarely at the expense of the music on hand. I suppose with the volatile political climate in the years You Are Here was made, Marks’ sloganeering got the better of him, hoping to spur on some extra activism. Unfortunately, it came off redundant, as most of the Banco audience is already boned up on such ideas. Farewell Ferengistan does away with that, letting the music speak for itself again as Marks provides little blurbs in the inlay (including an amusing disclaimer reading, “All facts and claims stated herein are liable to be untrue, partially true, or totally true depending on your viewpoint”; we should have a disclaimer like that too!). The thoughts he details can give some insight into the ideas he approached some of the songs with, but, for the most part, they aren’t crucial in enjoying the music on its own merits.

Also, Farewell Ferengistan creates captivating settings, a long-time Banco trademark, and something that was sorely lacking on the last album. Whether conjuring up dusty Arab caravans, ancient mountain villages, lonely starship freighters, primal tribal gatherings, or drunken monasteries, Marks’ ability to let your imagination take over with his music guiding is remarkable.

The first half of Farewell Ferengistan is quite good at this, drawing upon many influences that harken back to an era when traveling by horse was common, and the dominant empire was that of the Mongols (probably the largest in recorded history). Even the name Ferengistan comes from the name far-flung settlements in Central Asia dubbed Europe at the time (Ferengi became a derogatory term for Western traders, due to their greedy, materialistic tendencies of the time, and used by most Arabs and East Asians... and that’s your fun-fact for the day). As always, Marks’ production is sample-heavy, but unassuming in its presentation. I’ve always marveled at how he can take a well-worn, rinsed-out, over-abused sample, and make it sound fresh again, and this time is no different. Ethnic chants, wood winds, drum loops, spoken dialogue; it’s all here, although some may be a bit more difficult to I.D. this time if you’re a sample trainspotter. As has been the growing trend in Banco de Gaia, electronic elements play a much reduced roll, complementing the organic nature of the songs rather than leading them.

The somber, downbeat title track opens things up, setting up a nice atmosphere but doesn’t really hook you in from the get-go. Rather, the simple melody in Ynys Elen will do the trick, mainly because it’s essentially a 32-bar refrain, repeating throughout the whole track. What keeps you hooked though (besides its catchiness, of course), is the fact Marks is constantly adding something new with each go-around: a new set of drums, a different synth, an added pad, and much more. By always keeping things evolving, Ynys Elen comes across as more of a jam than an actual song, each successive loop bringing a new contribution to the fray.

The pace picks up with Chingiz, a fairly standard dance track with a fairly non-standard vocal lead (Mongolian chants, in case the title didn’t give it away). Not to be outdone, follow-up Kara Kum takes the rhythmic vibes a step further with building layers of forlorn guitar strums, lonely woodwinds, and tribal drums. At one point, the song breaks down to start over, relying on only the drums and an 808 beat to build tension. And build tension it does, as the track’s intensity never gives the listener a chance to catch their breath, relentless in its primal assault. Once the melodic elements return, Kara Kum is in high-gear for a rousing climax. Shame about that abrupt ending though.

The Harmonious G8 is best described as a conceptual interlude. The idea is to fuse together the individual performances of a singer form each of the G8 nations, which was carried out at one of the recent summits. Of course, it isn’t a flowing sound when it comes together, but certainly more coherent than you’d expect.

Moving into the second half of the album, Marks leaves the past and heads into the future with a pair of sci-fi influenced tracks. Saturn Return is a spacey ambient piece, and is quite effective in placing you amongst the stars before grounding you back on Earth with some casual rhythms and a female chant to take you out. Journalists will probably end up adding Terry Riley to the every-growing list of musicians they often strain comparing Banco de Gaia to.

And perhaps even Wendy Carlos as well. Sure, the opening of Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept sounds like a typical Banco tune, with pleasant electronics, groovy rhythms, rich ambience, and a rousing male vocal. However, the song soon moves into a synthy rendition of Flow My Tears. Composed by the British lute player John Dowland in the 16th Century, it has the odd contrast of being both mournful and uplifting at the same time. A simple enough idea, but Marks turns this song into a tribute of sorts to Philip K. Dick, whom penned many sci-fi novels, including the one that went on to be turned into Bladerunner. What kind of tribute (beyond Dick’s enjoyment of the original piece, of course)? By having the lyrics to Flow My Tears sung in a robotic voice, rendering them almost unintelligible! Actually, Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept comes off remarkably well. Even if the lyrics are hard to understand, they still add to the song’s atmosphere, and work as an additional element complementing the main melody. Hey, if it worked for Vector Lovers, why not here as well? It’s a sonic experiment never tried under the Banco banner, and succeeds.

White Man’s Burden changes the album’s setting again with its lengthy, ambient opening. Layers of lush, natural soundscapes keep building, hinting at an emotional peak. Instead, once the rhythms take over, the tone of the track goes one-eighty, turning into something more ominous to lead out. If you’re familiar with the origins of the song’s title, the context of this musical change won’t be lost on you.

Farewell Ferengistan ends on a charming note with We All Know The Truth. The title reads like something you might find on an Enigma album, but the track itself rather sounds like one of William Orbit’s poppier moments, including lyrics sung by Maya Preece of Dragonflys. As a song to cap off the album, I suppose it works. Despite being overly chipper at times, We All Know... feels like a reassuring lullaby, reminding us there’s still warmth in a world that can feel cold at times. How the song fits in the Banco discography, one phrase uttered by Roger Meyers, Jr. sums up my own thoughts: “It’s different, I’ll give it that.”

But different is good when done with finesse. While Farewell Ferengistan does see a return of the of Banco style we’ve been familiar with over the years, there’s enough fresh ideas executed to surprise long term fans as well. For the most part though, this is a contemplative album. Marks seems aware we’re at a turning point of sorts in human history, and while it helps to look to the past for guidance, we should still keep our eyes forward. The future isn’t as scary a place we sometimes think it is so long as we approach it with the right intentions.

Various - Fahrenheit Project - Part Six

Ultimae Records: 2006/2008

What else could Ultimae do? Half a decade after emerging from the hinterlands of psy chill obscurity, the label was riding an astounding wave of musical success. Their tactic of interspersing albums from their roster with the Fahrenheit Project series probably could have been milked to this day, but that's boring. Nay, by the time Part 6 of this series came, changes were afoot, and perhaps sadly, this would be the last of the Fahrenheit Projects for some time.

Such changes included: launching new compilation-mix series such as Oxycanta and Albedo; heavier emphasis on artist albums; and, most crucially, signing more talent to Ultimae. For a label known for an almost glacial rate of releasing material, such a jump in activity was going to show a little initial strain. Those new series didn't last long, as the increased LP output – almost all which were ace – overshadowed many of them. Why bother, said the fans, with the compilations when much of the best material was on the albums? Fahrenheit Project succeeded because it was as much a sneak preview of such albums as it was a roster showcase, so it was in Ultimae's favour to offer their best material for the series. With names like Solar Fields, H.U.V.A. Network, and Carbon Based Lifeforms practically selling themselves to the faithful now, the Fahrenheit format was no longer required.

So it's in this transitional period we find Part 6. Again, regular Ultimae acts all show up, with a few outside contributors sprinkled about. Still, a notable difference rears its head compared the last few entries, in that there's a lack of CBL. Sync24 does offer one track, mind, but as the duo was working on their sophomore effort, it's possible they didn't have time for Fahrenheit this time out. Maybe Ultimae should have called in Asura? No, wait, he was working on a new album too.

At only nine tracks, this is the shortest of the series, and to be blunt, it isn’t anywhere near as good as the prior two. Granted, those were lofty peaks, but one can’t help but be disappointed they couldn’t maintain at a plateau instead of take a stumble. As with Part 3, the lack of diversity hurts, most of the artists sticking to tried-and-tested psy chill tropes. The production remains top notch of course, but track flow is serviceable at best, everything melding into the same psy-glitch-ambient-downtempo soup Ultimae’s known for.

One of the few surprising developments, however, comes midway, and care of Solar Fields. Instead of offering his typical brand of chill-out, he dives headfirst into the realms of prog psy on Levitate. He’d dabbled in the vicinity of that sound before, but always in a ‘slow trance’ fashion. This tune, though, is incredibly brisk, especially for Fahrenheit Project. It must have garnered him a good response, as his following album, Earthshine, was loaded with the stuff, such that even fans of regular ol’ trance took notice.

And then Ultimae’s exposure truly took off.

Various - Fabric 29: Tiefschwarz (Original TC Review)

Fabric: 2006

(2013 Update:
Yay, another dated review. It's not my fault though, as the Fabric series was going from strength to strength in the mid-'00s. Who'd have thought they'd settle into a predictable rut as the years wore on, not to mention get outclassed by the burgeoning Balance series.

Still, this particular edition remains solid enough, if anything for a tracklist filled with a 'who's who' of this scene - Tiefschwarz may not have accomplished much since this came out, but they knew their tech-house that year. It also captures the brief period when the minimal aesthetic had creativity, before the dominance of plink-plonk-hiss annoyances (re: the Dubfire effect). Though it was written for the benefit of TranceCritic readers not boned up on minimal, my detailing of its influence still holds up pretty well, though obviously a different tense is required.)


IN BRIEF: Minimal sounds without the pretentiousness.

Before I start, I’d like to give some much deserved props to Fabric. Of all the DJ mix compilations over the years, theirs has to be amongst the most daring. Never have I seen a series exhibit such a wide range of musical styles, all the while equally giving the spotlight to superstars and underground darlings. Fabric isn’t interested in pandering to the progressive elite or the deep house elite or the techno elite. They release DJ mixes for folks who enjoy dabbing in everything. And bloody prolifically at that. At the rate Fabric kicks these mixes out, I’m surprised the quality control has remained as consistent as it has.

It’s interesting that Tiefschwarz’ go was the one I should have come across to review for our first dip into this series. Some could point out tapping the German brothers for a mix was nothing more than Fabric jumping on the ‘minimal’ bandwagon, which might be a vali-

Eh? Oh, you noticed those apostrophes around minimal. Perhaps I should explain that. Y’see, folks, minimal is the new buzzword promo people and clueless scenesters are jumping on. Much like ‘electro’ before it (and to some extent, still), the term is annoyingly ambiguous in what kinds of music it refers to, but generally these are them: minimal/dub/deep techno; simple tech house; micro house; deep prog house; nearly anything with a 130 bpm groove and the cliché “rewards paying attention” is apt. The perversion of their pet genre’s name has raised the ire of purists, an all too common result of an underground sound becoming popular. It’s grown large enough that some long-time minimal artists distance themselves from the sound altogether. Heh, you can always tell a buzzword is getting big when those associated with it claim they produce anything but.

Was Fabric merely cashing in on the hot underground sound of the summer when they released this? Perhaps a little, but it’s hardly the first time the series dipped into these waters, and now’s as good a time as any to expose some underrated talent now that folks will be more interested in it. Tiefschwarz - Alexander and Sebastian to the tax men - have been around for a good decade, earning their keep in the house and techno trenches with various singles and remixes. I’d say they deserve a bit of time in the spotlight since their sound is all the hipster rage.

The brothers kick off their mix with some dark dubby tunes. Minimal? Tech house? Either or, really, as the tracks are quite sparse in arrangement, yet contain a definite groove one can shuffle their feet along to. Claude VonStroke’s Whose Afraid Of Detroit? is especially nice with a grumbling bassline and a bleepy hook - love those ominous pads lurking in the background.

Now this is where things get tricky in covering a release like this. How, pray tell, does one describe what goes on in a mix that contains lots of bleepy clicky sounds and groovy rhythms, but scant little in the way of noticeable hooks? By way of feeling, which has always been the appeal of minimal sounds in EDM. The drawing power of Tiefschwarz’ track selection is in the atmosphere they create and maintain rather than dropping big tunes after each other. A song like Touane’s Bassic is quite, um, basic on its own, with a good shoulder-shakin’ rhythm but little else. What it does do though, is keep your interest with intriguing soundscapes, piquing your curiosity as to what may follow. While their choice of Schumacher’s Rotor may be suspect in this case (those are some really drab sounds going on here), the track’s tone nonetheless matches what came before while providing a unique twist. Interest maintained, curiosity grows, onto the next smooth mix to see where we go next. It’s a winning formula, and Tiefschwarz execute it admirably during the course of their mix. Rotor is probably the only real stumble in this middle chunk; each successive track after displays a quirky wit in their choice of music while never losing the darkish overtones laid out in the beginning.

Of warning though: because Tiefschwarz have opted for a mix that expresses their muses with atmosphere, truly energetic moments are rather rare as a result. Yes, the rhythms do groove, and they sometimes even get mildly funky as well, but hardly ever do they excite; the shuffling percussion of Ichundu’s Hey is about as active things get. This isn’t to say there aren’t interesting arrangements to be heard, but if you’re looking for big room bombs, you’ve wandered into the wrong house, my friends.

As Tiefschwarz head into the final stretch, they leave the quirk behind and indulge in floaty (re: ketamine) tech house. There’s still a hint of unease, mind, a feeling that really hasn’t gone away since the opening track from Troy Pierce. But whereas the beginning delved into the ominous nature of it and the middle had fun with the oddities, the end calms you down in spite of some really bizarre sounds; The Hammer Of Thor from Riton will definitely make you take notice, although the hook is interesting enough.

Oops. Spoke too soon. Al and Seb throw one more bit of quirkiness our direction with the final track, a bloopy, glitchy downtempo remix of Kate Wax’s Beetles And Spiders done by Roman Flügel. It’s an amusing way to finish this disc off, but a bit heavy on the tongue-in-cheek wit.

Fortunately, the rest of their mix isn’t. Tiefschwarz have crafted a worthwhile addition to the Fabric legacy, with equal parts charm, groove, and fun without abandoning the aspects of what makes this sound appealing. Although it won’t convert those who are still suspicious of ‘minimal’, it will please those who enjoy the heady nature of the music nonetheless.

Roger Sanchez - Come With Me (Original TC Review)

Ultra Records: 2006

(2012 Update:
Wow, is this ever a dated review, but then anything over half a decade old now probably will be. This came out just before the Swedish House explosion properly took off, so Sanchez' brand of NY garage-house still had success. Within a year though, he was tapping electro house remixers for follow-up singles, then his own output dried up. Guess he couldn't keep up with house music's changing tastes. Still, this remains a fun album, girlie as all hell though it may be. There's a degree of class to be had here that often lacks in SHM's material, and I'd sooner strike up a conversation with a lady that vibes on this music instead of anything Steve Angello puts out.)


IN BRIEF: Music for the missus.

The last couple times New York-based DJ Roger Sanchez came to my humble little Canadian city, the results have been chaotic ...at least in terms of ticket sales. It seems, due to the high demand of Sanchez’ presence, the nights either get oversold, super-scalped, or draw a much bigger crowd our typical Granville Strip clubs can handle (The Commodore exempt of course), causing premature shutdowns or clusterfuck line-ups. You would think such mismanaged organizing would swear folks off from seeing another Sanchez show, and save themselves the stress of dealing with it again. I’m willing to bet, though, it will happen on this next visit, and all those who swore “never again” will go through it again. Seeing Roger live has become the equivalent of super-fancy shooters for his Vancouver fans: quite costly, very tasty, and no matter how much you suffer from them, you’ll still indulge again when given the chance.

Wait, that’s not entirely accurate. One other factor, one very important factor, contributes to Sanchez being the draw he is: da laydeez; lots and lots of young, flirtatious womenfolk. Roger’s reputation for great club nights in New York is world renown, and many gals abroad would love to have a taste of his slick city style. He’s become an ambassador of sorts of the Big Apple’s mysticism: going to a Sanchez night is akin to going to a fancy Manhattan club, and many urban girlie girls jump at the chance to live out a Sex In The City-esque night, even if only in spirit. Naturally, where the women go, the men follow.

With Sanchez’ second album - Come With Me - I get the suspicion Roger’s clued into where his biggest audience lies. While he’s always had a club-friendly appeal, it’s usually been balanced with house music tapped from the source: a funk thing, a soul thing, a spiritual thing, a yada yada etc. This album does away with most of that, aiming straight for the glitzy expensive clubs, and those who attend such venues -specifically, da laydeez.

Pop quiz: what kind of music does your typical clubbing minx enjoy the most? Easy answer: pick up any Hed Kandi release, or Ultra House Hits, or A Trip In House, or.. Well, you get the point. Basically, house music with fun vocal hooks and groovy rhythms; although not too complicated so she’ll embarrassingly stumble while drunkenly dancing. From beginning to end, Roger delivers those sorts of tracks on Come With Me, in a variety of flavors.

Lyrically, most stick to predictable themes. If a gal is singing, it’s about failed relationships, break-ups, or being flirty on a dancefloor. If Sanchez is singing (sometimes with a featured guest), it’s with smooth, sexy come-ons. Yeah, not much for the guys to dig here.

Musically, Sanchez brings a nice, if safe, assortment of style. Amongst the sort of clubby disco you’d expect from vocal heavy house, there’s also soul and Latin influences to be found, especially in the second half; plus, a Bhangra inspired track with Take A Chance. While none of it breaks new ground, it is all finely produced, and perfectly effective for the targeted environment.

Of course, appealing to the fairer sex is all fine and good, but is there anything on this the male-folk can listen to without feeling like his nuts have been chopped off? (Er... not that men can’t relate to themes of broken hearts and past relationships; it’s just usually done in a different tone when targeted towards them)

Well, opener track Turn On The Music aims to be a rabble-rousing party starter for anyone in the club, and while the hook has some catchiness at points, the whole of it unfortunately sounds flat given its intentions. Sanchez’ spoken-word recounts of bad luck in Again works well for both sexes, although it does come across more for the gals. And the blissy, Ibizan-tinged Soledad is fine either way, simply produced for chill-out situations.

That’s about it though. While the guys can still groove to these and enjoy them on a purely aesthetic level, I honestly can’t see many playing this at home unless they are entertaining their female friends in a pre-clubbing drink session. There’s very little here a house-head laying back, noggin noddin’ with Sennheiser headphones, will get out of Come With Me, as the song-writing aims for a very specific demographic: one that isn’t too interested in clever beats or innovative hooks. This’ll probably disappoint long-time Sanchez fans, as they’ve come to expect more from him than pure pop accessibility.

A sell-out? Perhaps, but as far as cross-over house music is concerned, Come With Me succeeds in its goals. Sanchez has delivered music that is certain to appeal to the ladies with sexy flair and simple fun wrapped in a slick presentation. Can’t fault it for that.