Louderbach - Autumn (Original TC Review)

M_nus: 2009

(2019 Update:
I was a bit off on that Depeche Mode comparison, but beyond that, everything in this review holds up, as does this album for a little bleak sonic artistry in your life. What boggles my mind, though, is how Troy Pierce essentially faded from music making after this. Not just as Louderbach, but in totality. Aside from a smattering of singles shortly after this album's release, Troy's Discoggian data vanishes - I'm not even sure how much he remained involved with Items & Things after he founded it with Marc Houle and Magda. I know he'd become somewhat jaded over techno's direction, but surely not so much that he'd abandon it completely. Such a shame, as he was one of the few 'minimal tech' dudes I actually liked from that insufferable era. Would have been interesting hearing how his sound developed in a post-Berghain era, or even where he'd have taken Louderbach. As for Gibby, he's kept active in the visual industry, but it seems this project was the height of his vocal career. Oh well.)


IN BRIEF: Feel the gloom.

Hey there, how’s it going? Oh, not bad. Lovely weather today, isn’t it. You know that it’s going to turn to rain soon, right? Yeah, I know there’s not a cloud in the sky, but trust me, it’s going to turn damp and overcast soon enough. It won’t be a nice summer shower either, but a long, soaking downpour that will chill you to the bone. Yeah, I suppose it’ll make the grass greener afterward, but all of that lush vegetation is just the byproduct of artificial growth; it’d be green in a desert with all the chemicals saturated in those soils - which, by the way, will dissolve into the rain water as it seeps into the water table, where it will eventually make its way into our drinking reservoirs and finally into our taps as we unconsciously consume these toxins, allowing them to slowly erode our body’s health with cancer until we die from it. Oh, and your favorite sports team won’t win a major championship ever again.

Alright. Have I sufficiently depressed you, my dear readers? If so, then perhaps you’re now in the proper mood to listen to the new Louderbach album titled Autumn. Okay, so it isn’t really that depressing, but in exploring their inner goths, music-man Troy Pierce and vocalist Gibby Miller have conjured up quite the gloomy sophomore effort.

On one hand, this is actually quite beneficial because it’s different from so much of what you’d expect from the M_nus camps these days; instead of a collection of minimal tech that will be forgotten in a year’s time, there’s actual songs on here! More than that, though, is Pierce has eschewed many of contemporary techno’s clichés, which shouldn’t come as a surprise as he’s been one of the biggest critics of plink-plonk-hiss ‘minimal’ for a few years now. As one of the individuals who helped nurture minimal’s early rise in popularity, it’s a safe bet he’s been patiently hoping all the tourists clear out soon. In the meantime, he's taken the time to indulge in another scene altogether: industrial-goth.

If you’ve ever had a passing familiarity with that scene, much of Autumn will come across as old-hat. The murky atmosphere, Depeche Mode-like lyrics, and choking drone-experimentation seem directly lifted from the late 80s - third track One Hundred Reasons could have easily been an early Delerium tune (back when the group was more known for their industrial project Front Line Assembly). Heck, even the cover art seems heavily inspired by 4AD’s output. And this is all perfectly fine. Pierce adds just enough fresh wrinkles into the sound, especially excellent bass grooves, keeping things from sounding too much of a blatant style-bite; it’s apparent he’s got a genuine fondness for this sound, even if his minimal techno career prevented him from exploring it more.

As for Gibby, he too seems to understand that, when it comes to goth-inspired vocals in dance music, it is best not to take things too seriously. I can honestly say I don’t pay much attention to such lyrics, nor do I have any desire to search for a ‘deeper’ meaning; a lot of it is pretentiously dark poetry anyway. So long as his singing simply adds to the atmosphere of a track, he could be going on about walking his dog for all I care. Aside from the opener Autumn and She, Gibby seems to throw a knowing wink to the audience that this music is meant for light escapism rather than deep contemplation. (at least, I sure hope that’s the case…)

Speaking of She… yikes! I don’t know what got into Pierce’s head, but this is one seriously disturbing track. I can actually feel myself suffocating as this one plays, which either makes it devilishly great, or one I’ll never want to unearth again; rather like one of those psychologically terrifying movies.

There’s a couple other odds and ends to Autumn, like the Juan Atkins inspired Nothing More Than A White Poison, which seems out of place given the theme of the rest of the album, but overall I’ve covered the gist of things. It’s a short album that doesn’t stray far in tone, though arranged such that it doesn’t get dull; that is, provided you buy into the whole goth atmosphere. And that’s where some problems arise.

For the minimal techno groups, Autumn will come as a breath of fresh air (despite that air being musky, damp, and carrying the scent of wood-rot): it is, after all, something different from the norm. Label-honcho Hawtin sure seems to believe in this album, having commissioned a whopping seven remixers for the lead single Shine; even mainstream records don’t get that many right off the bat. Yet despite nothing to fault with the music on hand, long-time goths aren’t going to be nearly as enthralled. Any number of albums released in the past twenty years have touched on these themes and sounds with various results; Louderbach falls somewhere in the higher end of the middle of that pack. Plus, you can’t help but wonder if the goth scene will accept Pierce and Miller with open arms, or figure them as much of tourists as all the ‘minimal’ producers that sprung up a couple years back.

Whatever the case, Autumn is a fun little album to throw on if you want to get in touch with your depressive side, but generally too singular in tone to be a compelling listen in any other setting.

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

Richard Durand - Always The Sun (Original TC Review)

Magik Muzik: 2009

(2019 Update:
Well. I certainly had a lot to say about this, huh. Never thought I'd ever listen to this again, but for some daft reason I kept the MP3 album, maybe for future reference. Then I embarked on my listening project, listened to this again, figuring it'd be the final time I'd subject myself to it. And now I've listened it again, for the sake of completism within this blog's archives. I've only myself to blame.

But enough about my sad-sack, what's ol' Durand been up to since? Quite a bit actually, that blatant 'I R Nu-Tiësto!" marketing taking the next logical step when he was handed the In Search Of Sunrise DJ mix series after Mr. Verwest completely and fully abandoned trance for lucrative Vegas money. Naturally, the series saw diminishing returns with every volume, to such a point they started pairing him with other guest jocks (and BT). And now, he's no longer involved either, the latest edition featuring McProg's superstars of old in Marcus Schulz, Andy Moor, and Gabriel & Dresden. Durand also kept releasing albums, his latest coming out this past year, where he's apparently aged twenty since this one. Helps when you're not airbrushed into the Uncanny Valley.)


IN BRIEF: Gads…

The name Richard Durand (Richard van Schooneveld’s current alias) made quite the impression when it first broke out in the trance scene, although it wasn’t for a good reason. Rather, he’d briefly stolen the title of Needless Remixer Of Classics from Sean Tyas, though folks quickly realized that, aside from Toca’s Miracle, he was mostly just doing old Tiësto singles (he has made dubious remixes for classics by The Prodigy and Underworld since, however). The initial hate subsided, but there was this lingering feeling that something was still askew regarding this Durand fella’. For instance, why him? Who was he, exactly? Where did he come from? And, considering how much Mr. Verwest seemed to be giving him the thumbs-up, why were so many of his remixes and follow-up singles garnering incredibly divisive opinions? (the usual from “mesmerizing” to “torturous”, though typically “pointless” being the consensus)

To be honest, Durand’s ascent is remarkable when you consider what he was doing when the Big T saw something in him. Before then, he was carving out a niche sharing compilations with the likes of Scooter, Lasgo, and Klubbheads as G-Spott, releasing a stream of dodgy euro-dance with gratuitous supersaws. If the name doesn’t ring a bell, it’s because very little of his material ever left the realms of Dutch, with tracks appearing on equally dodgy releases going by names like 100% Eurotrance Vol. 4, Get Uppa And Dance 3, and Damn! 9. Then again, even the biggest titans of dance music had very humbling beginnings (Doot Doot, anyone?), so we shouldn’t hold Richard’s past against him. Or should we?

Let’s turn our attention to the release at hand, Mr. van Schooneveld’s debut ‘Richard Durand’ album Always The Sun. A change of artist names to something closer to one’s real name is a sure sign that ol’ Richard wants to be regarded as a Serious Producer now, with a muse that stretches well beyond his G-Spott legacy; smart career idea, to say the least. To back that up, he’s introduced more tech-trance attributes to his tracks, giving his productions a much tougher edge. Unfortunately, he’s also carried a lot of his generic cheese-dance baggage with him, such that it permeates much of his debut album. This wouldn’t be a horrible thing if he went into this tongue-in-cheek the way other over-the-top hard-trance acts like DuMonde often did, but he doesn’t - after all, this is the new, Serious Producer Richard Durand, not that silly G-Spott guy who was seen playing a synthesizer to CGI popcans in the video for N-R-G. (trust me, YouTube that shit!). I mean, just look at the intensity of that face in the cover!

He hopelessly fails. At damned near everything.

I know what you’re thinking: “Oh, Sykonee, how can he really fail? I mean, so long as I can dance to it, right? Um… right?” That’s just it. I never thought I’d say this about standard 4/4 dance music, but Durand has actually managed to make tracks that are nigh on impossible to dance to. I’m not even talking about the usual overlong breakdown-build nonsense Dutch trance abuses - the song-writing itself lacks any sense of flow. When the rhythms, basslines, and synth-hooks are all in play, they sound horribly disjointed, creating this weird, herky-jerky momentum that saps the energy right out of your legs; it’s the sonic equivalent of walking on a railroad track. In fact, that’s exactly what it was like, as I couldn’t even get a decent walking groove going when I was listening to stuff like Papillon, Ancient Garden… hell, everything in the album's first half. I’m sure Durand’s defenders will point out that I’m not listening to his music in the proper context, that I should be hearing it blasting out of towers of speakers at clubs. Yet walking and dancing aren’t that dissimilar - both require a sense of rhythmic motion, and Durand’s music totally, utterly, fucking wrecks it when you try to move with. Then again, many of Durand’s fanbase considers dancing to be jumping in one spot with a fist in the air.

So yes, Durand has actually failed to make dance music that is danceable on a dance album. It gets worse though. For instance, are you still pining for more Anthem knock-offs? That track may be two years old now, but Durand seems intent at his piece of the melodramatic male-singer eurodance pie, and offers up two generic cuts: the titular track, and No Way Home. I actually didn’t mind vocalist Simon Binkenborn when I heard him on Leon Bolier’s album, but there he was featured on a track that was quite content to be light-weight eurodance fluff. On Durand’s album, however, it seems he’s been instructed to belt out his lyrics with all the overwrought raw emotion he can possibly muster - this is, after all, a Very Serious album. Predictably, the results are ridiculously over-the-top sap. Ah well, at least there weren’t any naff acoustic guitars this ti- wait, what’s this at the end of the album? A… melodramatic acoustic version of No Way Home? FFFFFUUUUUUU...

Although I could endlessly berate the first half of Always The Sun (like the hopelessly amateur sounding Divine, which desperately wants to be a profound opener; or the equally desperate Next Big Anthem Into Something), perhaps it’s about time I turn my attention to the second half. Here is where Durand’s corny super-trance takes full control, starting with a generic femme vocal trancer in City Never Sleeps and followed by Mouseville, an ultra supersaw epic trancer that sounds like a left-over System-F tune Corsten was embarrassed to release. The good news is Durand seems to have finally figured out how to get everything in his tracks working together, so you can actually dance to these. The bad news is he’s forgotten how to adequately mix his tracks together (did I mention this is a continuous mix album? Oops…). So, instead of fucked-up flow within his tunes, it’s now fucked-up flow between the tunes. Gah, can’t he do anything right?

As for the remainder tracks, they’re mostly serviceable tech-trance numbers, but much of their hinted potential awesome is too often squandered. The Trigger, for example, features the first instance on this album of a genuinely unique and nifty hook, a bleepy little thing that gets devilishly twisted as a buzzing sawwave spits and spurts in the background; it never takes off in any significant way, even when the two breakdown-builds suggest the track is ready to erupt. Instead, the standard beats are brought back in, and The Trigger gradually comes to an unremarkable end. As does the whole bloody album.

Call me flabbergasted. I cannot for the life of me figure out how this album saw a green-light at Tiësto’s label. Sure, we’ve handed out bad scores to them before, but it was for things like dull pop pandering or misguided experimentation. Durand’s album is none of this. It’s a euro-cornball hard-trance album trying to pass itself off as a Serious And Earnest collection of rough’n’ready tech-trance (watch the video for Always The Sun if you still don’t believe me), thus diluting the ‘stoopid-fun’ of the former while easily getting outclassed by the likes of Oliver Lieb, Marco V - hell, even Bolier - in the latter. Still, although Always The Sun has all the musical merit of a Special D. album, this probably won’t stop Durand’s career from continuing its rise - Tiësto’s mighty PR machine will see to that. The only thing that still eludes me is why Mr. Verwest would have given a cheesy Dutch hard-trance producer an opportunity like this in the first place. Perhaps Tiësto figures Durand’s success will give him the chance to resurrect Da Joker.

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

Lusine - A Certain Distance

Ghostly International: 2009

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

Jeff McIlwain (ergh, there's that 'upper case, lower case' thing again) seems like the sort of producer I should have stumbled upon more recently than via a Patreon Request. And while I do have a single track of his under his L'usine handle, it comes care of a James Zabiela Renaissance Masters set that must have completely passed me by, as I failed to name-drop him in that review. Yet taking in his back-catalogue, I'm hearing things I like, and would have vibed on had I come across them sooner. Well, maybe not so much that self-titled first album, itself treading into the sterile domain of serious IDM. Following that though, it seems Mr. McIlwain fell sway to Boards Of Canada-itis, slowing his songcraft down to a laid-back trip-hop tempo with warm, hazy melodies, while still retaining some of his glitchier tendencies. Then Wolfgang Voigt made shoegazey ambient dronescapes popular with Pitchfork sorts, so we got to hear a little of that as well in subsequent albums. Along the way, Jeff hooked up with Ghostly International, they the home of such Very Important people in the world of techno like Matthew Dear, Solvent, Tycho, and Com Truise. Ah, that's probably why I kinda' flaked on L'usine: my nonsensical instinct to bypass labels techno journalists sing praises of. I blame minimal's overexposure for this gut reaction. No no, it's fine, minimal all too aware of its past sins – it's a burden it can bear.

Anyhow, despite having crafted a half-dozen LPs by the end of the '00s, A Certain Distance was only McIlwain's second proper album with Ghostly International (Podgelism being a remix album of Serial Hodgepodge). Trends had definitely continued changing in all that time, and Jeff had no problem keeping his L'usine project at pace with them. Oh yes, there's blip-bloop, white-noise tech-haus on here, though only one track, Every Disguise. Ignore its hilariously dated hausiness, and enjoy the tunes that haven't dated so much.

Yeah, that opener Operation Costs, with it's low-key electro funk and toasty-crisp glitch, that's the stuff (apparently also the tune on that aforementioned Zabiela set – how did I miss this?). Or how about a song that wouldn't be out of place on a classic Hed Kandi chill-out CD, Two Dots a peppy electro glitch-pop romp featuring soul-jazz singing from Vilja Larjosto - Twilight and, to a lesser extent, Gravity, also get in on that action. Wait, you came here because you fell sway to L'usine's earlier IDM-hop? Don't worry, Jeff has you covered with Tin Hat and Baffle. And don't worry, disc-jockeys, you get your dancefloor pounds of flesh as well in Crowded Room (smooth electro house) and Cirrus (pure crowd pleasing anthem, in that muted Booka Shade vein). Man, hearing how effective these two tracks are only highlights how out-of-place Every Disguise comes off. Please don't tell me Every Disguise somehow ended up the most rinsed-out tune off this album. A Certain Distance has far better tunes on it than that one.

The Field - Yesterday And Today (Original TC Review)

Kompakt: 2009

(2018 Update:
Haha, look at 2009 Sykonee, throwing around the word 'trance' so casually in this review. Yeah, The Field's music is far more trancey than most things in the realm of tech-haus, but that's always been part of Kompakt's manifesto anyway. The pseudo-genre 'neo-trance', neighboring genres taking on trance elements, is a better descriptor, or if you want to be really daft, 'shoegaze techno' (there's a lot of daft folks at Discogs, by the by). Also, where was I going with that Underworld comparison? Sure, Willner's rub of Sasha's Mongoose on The EmFire Collection fit the bill, but not so much here.

It's weird to remember that, at one point, The Field and Burial were held in the same regard among music critics. The proof is in Metacritic's own aggregation, From Here We Go Sublime and Untrue both still holding top honors for "Best Of 2007" music, even above Radiohead's In Rainbows! However, one is constantly referenced with reverence, even getting documentaries made about it a decade on, while the other does not. I guess folks felt The Field's brand of music-making was too singular for a plethora of copycats to emerge from it, leaving Mr. Willner to carry on doing his thing to this day with little fanfare anymore. So it goes for many techno heroes of the '00s.)


IN BRIEF: Evolution.

Axel Willner had quite a thankless task in replicating the critical good-will of his debut LP From Here We Go Sublime, so it’s just as well he hasn’t bothered to try. His sophomore effort is carrying on as usual, as though that top spot at MetaCritic’s “Best Of 2007” doesn’t exist. And why should he care? Yes, the album was quite good, but reading several of the reviews, you’d think this was the first time the rock journals had heard trance music. Then again, it wouldn’t shock me if it actually was the first time many of them had heard trance music, at least of the non-epic variety. Surprising such folks who’d forgotten that electronic dance music could actually contain endlessly looping lovely melodies doesn’t seem that hard in this age of electro-glitch (has it really been so long since Boards Of Canada released Music Has The Right To Children?).

So obviously much of that initial love affair has subsided, and the buzz on Yesterday And Today hasn’t been anywhere near as enthusiastic. Oh, it’s received good scores - as it will here - but now that Willner’s tricks are familiar, the press seems far more subdued in its praise. It’s a shame, then, that Willner has managed to bring some fresh wrinkles to The Field that will go relatively unnoticed.

Touring with just a laptop for his ‘live’ shows must have felt highly constricting to ol’ Axel, as he’s brought in a few extra musicians to the studio to liven up the proceedings this time out. Drumming journeyman John Stanier is the most notable addition, along with one Dan Enqvist, whom brings an assortment of backing instruments to the fray (bass, guitar, piano, vibraphone). A few more rounds out the cast and what we’re given is a richly textured sound that tickles your ears at several frequencies while maintaining that loopy Field structure.

Oh, still not sure of what The Field even sounds like? Think Emerson-era Underworld, though without Karl Hyde’s nonsensical lyrics. The titular track on here alone is very much in the Underworld-vein, with an infectiously groovy rhythm and spacey synth work sucking you into a lengthy trance-trip. The 90s comparisons don’t end there, however, as final track Sequenced is very much like early ambient dub as championed by The Orb, though lacking Dr. Patterson’s odd sense of stoner-humor. Meanwhile, The More That I Do could easily draw Loop Guru similarities, with its tribal stomp and repetitive chant.

These are far from nostalgic love-ins or rehashes, mind, but if you’ve ever paid attention to EDM from the 90s, Willner’s tunes will bring back such memories of the era when similar material was getting massive play from all the British DJs. About the only track here that escapes a 90s comparison is Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime, primarily because it’s a cover of an early 80s song from synth-pop act The Korgis; granted, it’s given a fine contemporary spin to fit within Willner’s sonic palette.

Somewhat annoyingly, and not just because it makes this album review shorter than most, Yesterday And Today isn’t terribly long. Sure, the six tracks offered are worth your pennies, and it certainly doesn’t feel like it ends all too soon, but when the musical ideas are purposefully limited, it’d have been nice of Willner to indulge us a little more. There’s almost a care-free jazz-fusion jam-band approach to these: most of them just start and keep going from beginning to end, improvising around the basic melodies along the way.

Yesterday may not be as initially, er, sublime as Willner’s debut, but it is a worthy follow-up. By adding extra musicians to The Field, he’s made his sound more organic and nuanced. Here’s looking forward to album number three.

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

Various - Y9: Nine Years Of Psychonavigation Records

Psychonavigation Records: 2009

It's been nine years since this label released a 'nine years retrospective', and the tale of Psychonavigation Records has since been... colourful. At this point, the print's been reduced to little more than an outlet for Keith Downey's No Mask Effect albums, though they did finally release that Sea Biscuit reissue first announced over a year ago. Come to think of it, that's a tasty little ambient techno classic I wouldn't mind having. Bet I can find the Astralwerks version for a good price on Amazon these days...

As a label retrospective, Y9 is a curious item. Who celebrates nine years of business? No one, for no other reason than the Western world demarcates the passing years by powers of ten: decade, century, millennium, etc. Thus ten years of activity is a recognizable achievement, while nine years is not. Maybe that's unfair to nine, and really, any length of time maintaining a project beyond a couple years is an achievement of sorts, but there's this lingering sense that, if you could do it for nine years, why not push for that extra rep of ten? It's just over the horizon, one Gregorian calendar away. Did the Psychonavigation Records crew of 2009 not figure they'd make it to year ten for some reason? Simply wanted to buck the convention for the sake of quirkiness? Is there more significance to nine years than ten in Irish folklore?

Whatever you want to say about their business practices, few discount the musical talent Psychonavigation Records brought in over the years, and Y9 is as handy a showcase of that as any. It touches upon all the genres they dipped their fingers in, from the early jazzy trip-hop dabblings (Buckminster Fuzeboard's Local Tone, Aza & Eoin's Miles & Miles, P.P.Roy's Cop Theme) through the ambient and Boardsy nods (Gel-Sol's Your Day In The Sun, Enrico Coniglio W & J Theme, Seán Quinn's I'm Here (Twice), Ciaran Byrne's Curtain Moon).

And while acts like Roddy Monks and Eedl gave the label an early in with ambient techno (from which they'd almost exclusively continue promoting), back then Psychonavigation was commonly rubbing shoulders with shoegazey indie sorts like Soul Gun Warriors U-Mass and Tiny Magnetic Pets (I swear I've heard the tragic-twee pop of Spinning before). This stuff kinda' went overlooked as the label's lifespan carried on, but it does paint a picture of a print willing to take chances on just about anything flying under the radar. Heck, Rarely Seen Above Ground's Talk Back Crawl Back is some straight-up boppin' garage rock, featured on a double-LP outing called Organic Sampler, and primarily performed by one man, Jeremy Hickey. That's dope, yo'!

Of course, my musings on Y9 are irrelevant, as it doesn't appear available on any official outlets anymore, so odds are slim folks will find this CD. Some of the artists do have their own Bandcamp pages though, so if any of this music intrigues you, do 'em a solid and scope out those options.

36 - Hypersona

3six Recordings: 2009

With so many ambient artists on the market, it takes remarkable skill and ridiculous luck at cracking through the glut. I mean, after forty years of official existence (and some prior years of being called something else), how many unique angles are left in this genre? Even some of my present favourites typically tread territory covered by artists from the past, which isn't a bad thing by any stretch. Music genres become genres because of the familiar tropes that define them, relying on each musician's personal touch with established tools to distinguish themselves. Yet that may not be enough to get noticed, not without some serious sleuthing by dedicated diggers trawling for new material for their podcasts and blog hype. No, I'm not of that sort, usually content in letting others do the discovering for me. It's almost accidental if I happen across something none of my usual sources haven't yet.

I'd like to say Dennis Huddleston's 36 project (remember, that's “three-six”) is one such example, but that's not quite the case. While hunting for examples of contemporary ambient regarding Guide 3.0 matters, I was checking some 'Best Of' lists from Discogs users, and 36's debut album Hypersona was coming up a fair bit. He was still fairly new then, only a couple years removed from self-releasing this record, but the buzz was palpable. After plucking a sample, I made a mental note to check his stuff further, and didn't get around to that again until this past year. Um, oops?

Well, better late than never (and before physical copies are sold out!), but yes, Hypersona definitely is the sort of album that deservedly cracked that thick ambient soup, floating to the top in the guise as a tasty bit of garnish in the bowl. See, Mr. Huddleston had a trick up his sleeve that helped him stand out from the pack, making sure you heard what his music had to say, and would want to hear more from him from then on out. Within the first five minutes of this album, which includes three tracks of Signal, 2249, and Inside, you're met with a rush of nostalgic, melancholy melodies and dreamy synth-pad layers that reach deep into your chest, rip your heart out, and forces sweet tears of blissful innocence into that gaping hole where your soul lies.

Okay, I'm laying the uber-hyperbole thick there, but conventional ambient album construction dictates these sort of tunes are reserved for closing numbers, melodic denouements after being led on an emotional journey. Yet here's 36 saying, “Nuts to that, I'm gonna' hit you in the heart-strings early and hard.”

And don't think Hypersona's front-loaded, equally evocative tunes cropping up throughout the album, just with different variations. The Box adds ethereal voices, Nephyr does the white-washed dub-drone thing, Juliet gets abstract with crackly radio chatter, and Forever is insanely grand, opulent, and lush. That, my friends, is how you get a debut ambient album noticed in this scene.

Josh Wink - When A Banana Was Just A Banana (Original TC Review)

Nervous Records: 2009

(2017 Update:
Josh Wink still hasn't made another album since this one. Why hasn't Josh Wink made another album since this one? Did it sell poorly due to the odd, cartoony presentation? Does he still feel squirmish about making 'album orientated music', even at this late stage of his career? Is he simply satisfied kicking out a steady stream of yearly singles, his DJing carrying the muse's load? So many questions, ones that honestly don't require an answer, but it remains a strange state of affairs that for a career as long lasting as his, Mr. Wink has never needed regular LPs maintaining it.

As this review was written late in TranceCritic's run, it's definitely of much better quality than most. Even at a rather lengthier word count, it still pops along at a nice clip. I even worked in an obligatory aside-rant about 'anti-builds' (on non-climaxes), plus threw in a couple snarky quips I'd totally forgotten about. Gave me a good chortle, they done did.)


IN BRIEF: Bountiful bananas.

First: there is no Higher State on here. In fact, there probably never will be a track like that ever again, from Wink or anyone else. It was an once-in-a-lifetime moment when that seminal acid classic was dropped, so you may as well stop expecting Wink to repeat it. If that’s the only reason you’ve clicked this review - to find out if he’s made another Higher State - hit ‘Alt + Left-Arrow’ now.

Good. Those who’ve stayed put probably already know there’s more to Mr. Winkleman than one or two big hits from the 90s but it’s remarkable just how much a man can forever be tied to chart success, even nigh fifteen years on. Ol’ Josh hasn’t let it tie his career down though. His record label Ovum continues to chug along with quality releases, his DJing career continues to groove along with quality sets, and his productions continue to, um, be produced. Well, he manages to continue to release solid singles, but has never managed to quite break that LP barrier, with albums that never seem to quite capture the same thrill or success of his EPs or DJ mixes. Wink himself has admitted that perhaps the fault lies in his attempts to make AOM (album orientated music), something that doesn’t play to his strengths.

So, it’s just as well that he’s abandoned that aspect for his latest album. The concept of When A Banana… is straight-forward enough: round up a collection of current productions that’s been getting live rotation, arrange them into a kind of DJ mix, and send it out into the wild. Surprisingly (or not), it works brilliantly, with each of these tracks strutting their stuff in strong fashion.

It’s the first half of this album that shines most brightly, with a variety of groovy house vibes, techno bedlam, and tranced-out bliss. Opener Airplane Électronique warms you up as fine as any house tune, with a funky rhythm that’ll have you wiggling along and a bouncy hook that gets a bunch of fun tugs, tweaks and tumbles twisting it about. However, it’s with Counter Clock 319 that you realize just how special of a producer Wink still is. Like so many of his tracks, he works a slow build before introducing The Hook (it seems many of his tracks contain that one element which can only be described as The Hook), which will get a thorough working over as the track continues to build in rhythmic intensity. Then, those crashing hi-hats and snares erupt, creating the kind of awesome thrashing climax Wink has practically made his trademark. The peak in Counter Clock is far more satisfying than anything you might expect from trendy upstarts like Dullfire or Radio Snore, such that- Wait a moment. That was only the mid-track peak? Oh shit, hang on, here we go again!

Actually, since I did bring up the former Deep Dish man, let me point out another thing that Wink trumps him on: what to do after the mid-track peak. I know Dubfire wasn’t the first to do it, but his single Roadkill really popularized the Total F'n Reset, wherein after a thrilling build, the track will just reset with intro beats, making everything up to it utterly pointless. Wink has a tendency to bring the energy down as well, but instead of using the Total Reset, he eases you into a simmer, which is not only effective in keeping some sort of momentum going but also in teasing your anticipation for when he brings it all back. And speaking of which, let’s get back to these bananas.

After a bit of murky, mildly funky minimalism with What Used To Be…, Wink unleashes a pair of tracks that hit all the right melodic notes. Jus’ Right is pure Balaeric bliss, but it’s Dolphin Smack that comes off as the most delightful surprise - you would never have expected Wink to produce a track that would have fit nicely on an early-90s Harthouse compilation in this day in age. It’s quite spacey and, dare I say, even trancey.

From there, Wink gets back to your requisite minimal-tech, although considering he was among the earliest adopters of this stylistic trend, the cuts offered here sound comfortable and assured. Yeah, there’s your usual plink-plonk-hiss going on, but there’s also, like, actual funk in these tracks too - imagine that, eh? He’s going to drag your head out of your k-hole whether you like it or not, and coerce you to do more with your feet than a half-committed shuffle. Finishing off with the soulful Stay Out All Night is fair game too, even if it shares the same status as Johnny D’s Orbitalife of an inexplicably overplayed track throughout 2008 (that ‘funky soul’ thing must have seemed like such a novelty to the minimal-tech crowd, despite the likes of Miguel Migs having never gone away).

Of course, When A Banana… isn’t revolutionary or anything like that. We’ve been hearing many of Wink’s tricks on here for over a decade; it’s his strong judgment of rhythm that makes it all work though. Unlike so many other minimal-tech producers who make dull plod-step beats, Wink’s veteran sense of the dancefloor knows how to get the most mileage out of the least elements, and he’s accomplished this excellently with these tracks. Throw in attributes his contemporaries seem afraid of (funk! soul! …melody!), and you have one of the stronger albums of tech-house to come along this year. Not to mention in Wink’s discography as well.

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

Various - Water

Altar Records: 2009

Hey, remember Altar Records' Elements series? I reviewed nearly every single one of them (including the 'hidden' sixth element) only, what, two or three years ago now? Eh, I could simply check my archives to verify? Oh, man, that was over five-hundred reviews ago – who has time to sift through that much backlog! Though I'm almost certain, should I skim them over, I'd find a hi-lar-ious claim that y'all wouldn't have to wait too long for Water's review, maybe even a ridiculously optimistic prediction of later that year.

Another thing I should probably do is go back to the other Elements CDs (Air, Earth, Fire & Ether) for a quick refresher in this series' development, but why bother? I have to admit, when I first got the collection, Water didn't stick with me on my initial run of each volume. Not because it lacked dope tunes or anything, but because I knew the other four (plus one!) would require my immediate focus for review, thus letting this one slip by the wayside. Now, with it finally up to the mic' with its chance to shine, Water gets all the solo glory it deserves, none of its elemental siblings crowding it out of the spotlight. At least, I'm assuming that's how I've approached this, because I honestly don't recall Water being this good when I got it way back when. Did I even listen to it before?

Like, the first track is Marianna Falls from Asura, with Charles Farewell executing at his Asuraian best. The languid pace, the spacious sounds, the sense of uplifting cinematic grace... holy cow, how did this song not make the cut on his 360 album the year after? And speaking of Ultimae alum', Aes Dana is here too with Cyan, doing that steady-paced prog-psy thing he often does so well. Androcell also shows up for a rather Balearic bit of psy-dub in Seahorse Dreams, which makes sense given the marine theme of this compilation. Man With No Name's oldie Sugar Rush is also given a lush reworking from a Kanc Cover, more known as Opsy around the time this came out.

But hey, enough about the outside talent, what of the Altar roster, how do they stack up? Pretty good for the most part. Chronos does a widescreen psy-chill thing in Planetarium, AstroPilot ups the pace to prog-psy's chugging domain in Voda, DJ Zen offers up a lengthy goa-breaks-psy-world-chill-trance remix on Zymosis' God Is Mine (it's so long, he kinda' throws everything into the pot), and RA brings Water to a close with a pleasant enough psy-chill cut in Creation Of Tefnet.

If there's any complaint to be had with Water, it's that the elemental theme is only loosely followed upon throughout. Perhaps this collection of tunes have a more 'flowing' feel about them compared to the other Elements, but that's about it. Really, Water is just another solid CD of music from Altar's formative years, which ain't no bad thing at all.

King Midas Sound - Waiting For You...

Hyperdub: 2009

Stupid of me sleeping on this when it first came out. I was fiending for more material from Kevin Martin after London Zoo, ready to hear any and all music The Bug had to offer. But not enough to follow developments in his other projects apparently, King Midas Sound making their debut in a flash before receding from the limelight again. Part of that was due to timing, Waiting For You... coming out at the tail-end of 2009, when I was burnt out keeping an ear to the pulse of electronic music for review purposes.

It's also a case of the group almost deliberately eschewing much media marketing, doing a few requisite interviews and tours, but not much else. Even Mr. Martin seemed hesitant in letting folks know that The Bug had a second project called King Midas Sound, one gestating in the background almost as long as his work for London Zoo had been in progress. Waiting For You... went so overlooked, there's no review for it at Resident Advisor, though one for lead-up single Dub Heavy Hearts And Ghosts, plus follow-up remix LP Without You. Still, that makes me more hip than RA now, right?

We did all finally catch up to this conglomerate of Kevin Martin, singer/crooner/spoken-worder Roger Robinson, and singer/artist Kiki Hitomi. It was a slow burn, which makes sense as Waiting For You... has a feeling of needing lengthy time and many play-throughs to simmer into your soul. Those coming into it expecting more of Mr. Martin's crushing bass assaults won't find that here, though the bottom-end is dutifully represented throughout. Plenty of that trip-hoppin' dub action too, utilized in such a manner that it creates a wall of white noise where Mr. Robinson's vocals ride along, like surfing waves of mile-high sound. Other times he's completely enveloped by the layers of timbre, his voice just another instrument to- wait, I've already typed such a description before, haven't I, when I reviewed the Fennesz collaboration Edition 1. Darn it, it's such a good description though.

What's interesting is that Roger wasn't really known for a soulful croon prior to his team-up with Kevin, his prior performance experience mostly poetry over a rhythm. And there are a few tracks that go that route on this album too, such as the punchy, minimalist (and super-preachy) Earth A Killya, and the interlude Sumtime. Elsewhere he edges closer to a dancehall cadence (I Man), but by and large he carries a song with his soft croon. And he'd never done anything like it before! He figured he'd carry on doing the spoken-word stuff, but when Kevin persisted in hearing him sing a little, he realized that was what would make King Midas Sound stand out as something unique in the UK's urban scene. Throw in a few spacey additions from Kiki (Outer Space really does live up to its name), plus a couple dubbed-out instrumentals for good measure, and voila, Waiting For You..., a neo-soul album like few others.

2562 - Unbalance (2017 Update)

Tectonic: 2009

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

That old review opens with an attempt by yours truly at cataloging dubstep’s myriad permutations into neat, tidy sub-genres, and for the year 2009, it made some sense. ‘Wobble’ had yet to morph into the now-commonly accepted nomenclature of brostep, mainly because it had yet to go full-bro on all our asses (but oh was it ever just over the horizon!). There definitely was an ‘atmospheric’ side to the scene, though most now refer to it as post-dubstep, or future garage if they don’t want their sound associated with the ham-fisted bro anthems dubstep at large ultimately catered towards. And finally I brought up ‘funky’ as a refuge for UK garage fans missing the glory days of Artful Dodger, or some-such. Yeah, I had no idea what the 2-step I was talking about there – UK funky is more an Afro-house thing, and I’d have known that too if I’d ever listened to the stuff back then. Dammit though, the UK bass ‘n’ urban scene was splintering into so many dozen-and-done micro-genres at the turn of the decade. Like I had much time, interest or care to sample all of it, no matter how much Pitchfork or Guardian were telling these were Very Important developments in music culture.

Still, the techno-infusion dubstep was seeing towards the end of the ‘00s intrigued me a little. Between Scuba, Sigha, Shackleton, and 2562, it seemed the genre was leaping out from the urban alleyways into bold, brittle dystopian cityscapes, all the hot journals just as quick at hyping this new development as any other. Alas, t’was as short lived as most hype goes, hotter hotness replacing their names, all the while dubstep soon regarded old, stale, passé, and poo after the bros invaded everything. Some went onto other genres, while others carried on despite the turning tides of fortune, retaining loyal fanbases within dedicated scenes, rather glad the spotlight no longer shone so bright upon their careers. Can’t say 2562 is one of the latter, however.

In the years since I originally wrote that TranceCritic review, Dave Huismans kept himself busy, but as with many of his ‘post-dubstep’ brethren, slowly moved on from the broken beatcraft of his early works. Shortly after releasing Unbalance, he took his 2562 alias out from his Tectonic deal, and started self-releasing material on his own When In Doubt print. Lord Discogs lists his last release as 2562 being The New Day back in 2014, a record with as much techno going for it as anything dubstep. Given how techno-leaning his music was already, it’s hardly surprising he’d go all the way with it eventually. His other alias, A Made Up Sound, has kept him more active in the singles market to this date, with a double-LP retrospective coming out just last year. That one’s gone as techno as anything coming out of Berlin now, so it must be serving Mr. Huismans’ career well enough. After relistening to Unbalance though, it does leave the current creative possibilities a little wanting.

Souls Of Mischief - Montezuma's Revenge

Clear Label Records: 2009

I always wondered what ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ meant, figuring there was more to it than a kick-ass ride at Knott’s Berry Farm (The G-forces!! The G-forces!!). I thought it was fanciful Mexican folklore, the famed ninth Aztec emperor Moctezuma II arising from the dead to exact vengeance on the Spanish Conquistadors who killed him and murdered his people. So when I heard Souls Of Mischief had an album out of the same title, my first thoughts was something along those lines, except it was a case of indie, conscious hip-hop making its revenge upon the oversaturated ‘pop-rap’ of the time – everyone was bemoaning hip-hop’s death by the late ‘00s, after all. Then I discovered the general meaning of ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ in today’s society, which yes, I admit, has eluded me all this time (count my blessings, yo’). Ah, now it all makes sense when asked about the title’s meaning, Tajai quipped, “The deeper meaning is the album will make you crap yourself.”

However you read it, Montezuma’s Revenge was seen as something of a rebirth for the Hieroglyphics foursome, their first album together after nearly a decade of simmering solo projects. A-Plus, Phesto, Opio, and Tajai didn’t have plans for a reconvention of their MC powers, but a passing Prince Paul expressed interest in working with the Oakland crew, which sounds like an all-star project the likes backpackers around the globe could only dream of. One of the preeminent producers of indie hip-hop paired with one of the most respected groups from the Golden Years, all hanging out in the same studio, unleashing all their potential creativity into a mega-reunion collaboration super-project! Or not.

I admit the Adrian Young project There Is Only Now spoiled me some towards what a Souls reunion could truly entail. For sure there’s nothing to find at fault with Montezuma’s Revenge, as the group sound as fine as they ever have, and Prince Paul handles the dials with sleek professionalism while throwing a few trademark quirks in for good measure. And when compared to what hip-hop was doing on the charts in 2009, the laid-back beats and witty verbal dexterity on display must have been a welcome respite for the old-school heads. It’s just, with all the players involved, one kinda’ hopes for a little more than what we got here. A new modern-classic rather than experienced vets giving us acceptable examples of their tried and true abilities. Even Prince Paul has a bit of a pisstake with it all, a guest “Mr. Freeman” calling into the studio telling the lads they need to drop that “old-school shit, son”. And indeed Souls Of Mischief would, after teaming up with Adrian Young for that new modern-classic everyone had been dying for since ’93 To Infinity.

Montezuma’s Revenge feels more like a warm-up to the Souls’ resurgence in the current decade, a trial-run before all the members embarked upon bold new territory. Lord knows they needed it, and Prince Paul was more than capable in lending a hand.

Ed Rush & Optical - Travel The Galaxy (Original TC Review)

Virus Recordings: 2009

(2016 Update:
Deary me, but was this review ever a comedy of punctuation errors. Love that semi-colon any harder, 2009 Sykonee. This was a latter-era TranceCritic write-up too, so I should have known better than that. Maybe collegiate essay writing had gotten the better of me? Whatever the case, I've corrected a bunch of those eyesores, though not all - can't let me off on every past transgression. One that most definitely needed amending was calling Ed Rush & Optical 'darkside'. Fool, they're tech-step, slowly morphing into darkstep. Trust me, if TC had a Junglist Oversight Committee, I'd have been fired on the spot for that one. (why would a trance website have such a committee...?)

This was Eddy and Optical's last record for quite some time, the duo finally returning to the LP market just this past year with No Cure. Naturally they kept busy in the interim, but fans were starved for a while, which gave Travel The Galaxy ever increasing kudos for what it accomplished. It probably didn't hurt that darkstep saw something of a resurgence when 'drumstep' entered the scene, a hybrid of dubstep that freely took cues from darkstep's aggressive, attacking basslines. The two sub-genres mesh quite well together, many up-and-comer jocks playing ample amounts of both in their sets. I approve.)


IN BRIEF: Not much new, but so what?

In some ways, the backlash against ‘darkstep’ was the best thing for that sub-genre of drum’n’bass. Everyone was in agreement that the sound had grown overbearingly worn-out shortly after the turn of the century, which allowed the liquid funk camps to easily take over. Though the old guard that championed evil basslines and such never relented, all the imitators and band-wagoners were eventually cleared out, and ‘darkstep’ is now firmly back in the hands of the pioneers. Sadly, nearly all but the most dedicated has forgotten about them in the process.

There’s just been far too much time and new directions in the scene since seminal singles like Alien Girl sent partiers quivering into corners with fear. Neurofunk, rockin’ Pendulum… all that stuff Ed Rush & Optical spearheaded and nurtured with guys like Technical Itch and Dieselboy seems quite old hat today, a relic of a by-gone era when their scene was quite willing to suffocate on its self-created abyss. Folks needed an escape and by golly, the Hospital crew, Soul:r, and, er, Pendulum were willing to offer some respite from the horrors Virus Recordings and their associates were generating. But it’s not like the sound ever lost its destructive force on a dance floor. You can still find tracks being rinsed out by jungle DJs the world over, but as accentuated points within a set rather than being a running theme. Apathy over the techier side of take-no-prisoners d’n’b is still apparent though, so it’s a bloody shame the new album from the sub-genre’s standard bearers - Ed Rush & Optical - will go relatively unnoticed. Travel The Galaxy is probably one of the most satisfying full-lengths of darkstep and neurofunk in some time; and not just as a strong collection of singles, but as a complete play-through as well, which is remarkable because they barely stray off their chosen path.

From the moment you press ‘Play’ and for a long while, this album has a feeling of business as usual. Oh, business is definitely good but long-standing detractors of Eddie and Op’s sound aren’t going to find anything of interest here. For the faithful though, there’s plenty of choice to gorge on. You got your rollicking sci-fi beasts like City 17 and Temper; there’s your swinging sub-sub-bass funk groove in Magical Thinking and Chubrub; Snaggletooth, the obligatory cut that seems purely designed to torture your bass bins. Some knowing winks to the old guard with their vintage sounds, like a vocal sample in Snaggletooth saying “darkside”, followed by the classic vwwompp-vwwompp Reece bassline (yes, it may be a cliché, but these two wrote the book on that cliché, so it’s allowed - forward written by Grooverider). And then a couple solid cuts that could very well be b-sides (Padded Cells and Move It). So all well and good; the album’s certainly worthy of a 7 up to this point. However, Eddie and Op don’t seem content with such a score, so they start breaking form a little in the latter half of the album.

G-Force Jesus throws in ominous choirs with the galloping beats and basslines, which of itself would be pretty damned cool, but Eddie and Op take things one step further with a breakdown which could have been a solid slice of tech house on its own. At first, The Kindred seems like ‘just another tech thriller’ akin to Temper, yet there’s far more energy to this cut than heard elsewhere. Same with Titanium, which shares status with Snaggletooth as a ‘bassline experimentation’ cut, but my God is the bassline here ever something to behold - like an Imperial Star Destroyer reactor come to life! And finally, in one of the ballsiest moves I’ve heard from the neurofunk camps, Eddie and Op take a stab at liquid funk in Space Monkey, of all things. The epic builds, the wailing divas, and the exhilarating momentum - all Hospital staples, yet here imbued with the kind of sci-fi attributes you’d expect from Virus.

Even with this strong finish, Travel The Galaxy still seems like a 7 on paper, as we’re mostly stuck in the realms of darkstep and it can be rather excessive to endure for a full album’s worth, especially so with the uncompromising final cut Schrander's Dice. Yet, when you actually listen to this album, you can’t help but get caught up in the themes and energy Eddie and Op present to you. In fact, that’s always been the draw of jungle of this sort, and despite it not being as popular as before, these twelve cuts prove darkstep still has all the power and heart it once did. That’s worth the extra little nudge up a mark.

Fans will love this album, haters will likely ignore it. For the rest of the potential audience - those who’ve, say, grown tired of Pendulum’s shtick - there’s plenty for you to cut your teeth on here. Travel The Galaxy may be walking familiar territory, but it’s nonetheless a solid starting point for the curious.

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

Hell - Teufelswerk (Original TC Review)

International Deejays Gigolo: 2009

(2016 Update:
An unforgivable, glaring omission in this review: I left out all the co-producers! No wonder those two tracks sound like throwback electro, it's Anthony Rother behind the sound deck with Hell. Of course CD2 has such a consistent vibe throughout, Peter Kruder (of he & Dorfmeister fame) lent his craft to the project as well. And whoa, Mijk van Dijk had a hand in the tech-haus tracks? I'd never have known without looking at the liner notes, these tunes some distance from the techno he made his name on in the '90s. Then again, if Hell could evolve, why not Mijk?

It's almost unfathomable that Teufelswerk remains ol' Helmut's last LP. Not that he was ever a prolific producer before, but seven years is quite the gap, with no sign it'll stop increasing, a smattering of singles all to his name in recent times. There were a couple remix albums released for this one, yet those were roughly four years after the fact. At this rate, we might see a 'cover' LP anytime now!)


IN BRIEF: Back in Hell.

I doubt DJ Hell (Helmut Geier to his elders) ever intended for his label - International Deejay Gigolo - to become the tastemaker of all things electroclash. Yet by releasing one classic record after the other, it trapped him in that genre, such that it was all folks expected of him, even though his musical career had spanned far more than sleazy electro. Still, perhaps it was a blessing disguised as a curse in the long run. As electroclash faded from clubbing tastes, so too did the impossible expectations on Mr. Geier; however, his prior success helped keep some degree of interest in his career. After all, he managed to burn a fresh trail into clubland before, and folks are always eager to see if someone can twice strike gold in this fickle business.

Well, Hell ain’t havin’ that. Having already carved out his place in the Electronic Music Hall-Of-Fame, he’s not terribly interested in being a trail-blazer again. Instead, Mr. Geier appears quite content in simply make dance music for the contemporary crowds with his own spin on the template. Yes, this means tech-haus music …er, as per his current definition of it. And since his former high-status in the scene has afforded him plenty of good-will, Hell decided to also get in touch with his indulgent side along the way.

The result of which is this here double-CD album: Teufelswerk. The Night half is primarily the tech-house trip, though with ample nods to electro-proper, New York clubbing, and robo-German fetishism sprinkled about. Day, on the hand, is a downtempo, experimental, ambient, etc. etc. trip through Hell’s muse. For now, let’s look at the Night disc.

Having not totally abandoned the electroclash, Hell brought in Roxy Music man Bryan Ferry for a little vocalizing on opener U Can Dance; however, this is mostly a solid tech-house groover that gets the album started in fine fashion. Right from the onset, you can tell there is more thought and consideration into what constitutes a good house track, as Hell doesn’t get bogged down in ‘minimal’ wankery, simply laying out his rhythms and letting the hooks weave about.

From there, it’s one solid tech-house cut after another. The robots take over in Electronic Germany and Bodyfarm² with sinister electro-tones and eerie atmospherics. There’s nods to the minimalistic takes on tech-house in Friday, Saturday, Sunday and The Disaster, which are fine for what they are, though not quite as thrilling as some of the other tracks here. Hellracer gets in touch with acid, and Wonderland dabbles in some Latin-tinged melodies.

Then, of course, is The DJ. It features Sean ‘P. Puff. Diddy-Daddy’ Combs blathering on about how DJs need to play full twenty-minute versions of house tracks, a not entirely daft suggestion. The backing track Hell provides for the monologue dips into the best vibes a sweaty New York club often suggests (whether it’s still true or not being irrelevant). This track has caused a bit of controversy for no other reason than it’s P.Diddy cussing on the monologue, but who really cares? I’m sure if the naysayers didn’t know it was Mr. Combs doing the talking, they’d enjoy it just as much as any ‘monologue-house’ tune.

If you’re going to ding Hell for anything on this disc, it can be for the fact that, ultimately, we’re not hearing anything remarkably fresh here. Not that this should come as a surprise – Hell wasn’t known as much of an innovator back in the 90s when he was still making house and techno, and now isn’t much different. Night is a competently made CD of tech-house that you’ll enjoy from start to finish, provided you fancy tech-house at all to begin with.

For the more adventurous out there, Day will definitely please. Right off, Hell channels the spirit of 70s synth composers for Germania, giving us a true ambient sonic delight with spritely melodies and trancey backing arpeggios. After that, it’s thirteen minutes of Angst, which moves from a chilled jazzy build to a second half consisting of noisy, abrasive glitches – mmm, more of the former, please.

There are a few sonic doodles and experiments scattered about the rest of Day but only three fully-formed tracks left; and even then, I Prefer Women To Men Anyway and Hell’s Kitchen are mostly about experimental soundscapes anyway. Nay, it’s on final track Silver Machine that we get a proper song again, with Hell doing one of those ‘indie-tronica’ ditties along with one Marsmobil on vocals. It’s a pleasant enough way to close out this often musically-wayward disc.

Across two CDs, Teufelswerk is hardly dull and certainly worth an investment. The only thing to be wary of is we are hearing a DJ Hell that is quite comfortable with his status in clubland, resulting in an album that prefers satisfying a personal muse rather than a general audience. The other thing too is, as a songwriter, Mr. Geier isn’t quite as strong as some of the more notable names in this field (Garnier, Craig, etc.) so those who fancy artistic indulgences might not be as impressed. Therefore, it may be wise to take Teufelswerk with a grain of salt.

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

Laurent Garnier - Tales Of A Kleptomaniac (Original TC Review)

[PIAS] Recordings: 2009

(2016 Update:
You just had to make another dig at minimal, didn't you, 2009 Sykonee? Boy, does that quip ever date this review now - like, who gives a rat's poop about Luciano anymore? Meanwhile, Garnier's still here, doing his thing as he's always done, even releasing another album this past year. This reads a bit gushy to my current eyes, but its no less reverent than any number of fans and journo-folks who've put hundreds to thousands of words detailing the Frenchman's career and class.

Unfortunately for this album though, it hasn't gotten any easier of a listen as time's worn on. For all the care and skill Mr. Garnier put into these tracks, they create such an erratic listen with a traditional playthrough that it's difficult for anything to stick to the ol' memory membranes. Funny enough, Laurent mentioned shortly after releasing Tales Of A Kleptomaniac that he couldn't even stand listening to these tracks anymore, having spent so much time on them and all. Man, I know what that's like with some of my own writing, but I can definitely hear how some of this music's been micro-managed almost to a fault. Gotta' keep that muse fresh with new ideas, yo'.)


IN BRIEF: Does Garnier have anything left to prove?

No, don’t actually answer that rhetorical question; just ponder it for a moment. Then, once you’ve finished pondering, keep those thoughts to yourself. If you do that, then you might be able to dive into his new album, Tales Of A Kleptomaniac, without any of the ungodly expectations the Frenchman has become saddled with. Just accept the fact he likes to make music, and feel fortunate enough he’s successful enough to share that over-indulgent muse of his with you.

The simple fact of the matter is Garnier has established himself as the music-fan’s producer and DJ, thus has earned all the plaudits that comes with such respect; however, this also leaves his body of work incredibly daunting for the uninitiated, with very few clear-cut crossover singles to his name (The Man With The Red Face being the most obvious exception, especially recently). With a discography that is far from newbie-friendly, Garnier has been kept somewhat on the outskirts of top acts, even though he is a recognizable name. This new album isn’t likely to change that, which will probably suit his fanbse just fine. But, y’know, it’d be nice of him to, like, get the same kind of praise the Luciano Villalawtins of the world do, just once in a while, hm? Ah well.

So now that we’ve effectively frightened away the uninitiated, is there anything of interest for the Garnier connoisseur? You bet! In fact, there’s almost too much here. In being such a hoarder of musical styles, ol’ Laurent has assembled an incredibly eclectic collection of songs, such that I can’t see folks getting their vibe on to every track.

For instance, you may be totally down for more of his jazz-fusion techno-stomp, supplied here in the form of Gnanmankuodjii; but are you willing to go even deeper down the jazz tunnel, into an acid lounge with Garnier himself providing spoken dialogue in Dealing With The Man? Or perhaps you’re looking forward to some vintage dark trance vibes with Desirless that ol’ Laurent was known for way back in the day. That may sound good, but perhaps not the two hip-hop cuts - one with French lyrics, no less - if that isn’t your thing. Or maybe the thought of him doing dub reggae with Food For Thought makes you all giddy (*cough*); might you have the opposite reaction to Bourre Pif, a dabbling into drum’n’bass? Wait, what? That last one doesn’t make any sense. How could someone like one rhythm-heavy form of music but not another? Never mind that last one.

Getting back to the album, the point is there be a lot of musical variety on here, some of which may not be your cup of brie. However, it is all finely produced and enjoyable to those with at least a broad sense of taste -allow me to provide an example. Although I know it can be musical journalistic suicide to openly admit to not knowing much about a particular genre, I think you can all forgive me saying that I am quite clueless when it comes to French hip-hop - I've heard no more than half-a-dozen tunes in my life. Yet, despite not getting much out of Freeverse (Part 1) on an intellectual level, I still enjoy it on a ‘dumb’ level; that is, purely on what the music on hand offers. You get that sense of musical competence from Garnier on every cut here, and though you may not be compelled to suddenly start checking hundreds of French hip-hop acts out there, Garnier at least provides you with something that won’t have you quickly reaching for the skip button.

That said, there isn’t much on here that would convince one to check out these musical genres further either. Food For Thought is a great dub tune …for being on a Laurent Garnier album; fans of jazz-fusion, techno, and, yes, even French hip-hop would probably say similar things.

Tales Of A Kleptomaniac is another solid outing from Garnier, and the music’s far too good to give it anything lower than an 8. However, in allowing his muse to rob the kitchen of everything but the plumbing, it unfortunately lacks an elevating, crossover classic. The veteran Frenchman remains as daunting for the newbie as ever.

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

Mick Chillage - Tales From The Igloo

Psychonavigation Records: 2009

It took a while, but with Mick Chillage's debut album Tales From The Igloo, Psychonavigation Records could finally claim to have a bonafide hit on their hands. Well, about as a much of a hit a micro-niche scene such as throwback ambient techno could ever achieve, but it’s something. Prior to Tales, the Dublin print had remained quite underground and relatively unnoticed, mostly giving folks with close ties to the local scene their promotion. This was technically also the case with Mick Chillage, Mr. Gainford spending much of his early career as a radio DJ on Dublin’s XFM. Though he never released anything official, The Chillaged One did while those years producing an assortment of techno, downtempo, and ambient items that were probably never intended for more than nearby playouts.

For all intents, having a fruitful career in LPs wasn’t high on his mind, but that Keith Downey boy, he never met a fellow Irishman that he couldn’t woo to his label. One successful album later, and not only was Mick Chillage off and shopping to several like-minded labels, but Psychonavigation Records also started drawing in other established artists to their print as well, growing their profile in the process. Or it was all just one big coincidence things turned out like this.

At first glance, Tales From The Igloo doesn’t come off as anything terribly unique or remarkable. It’s a vintage ambient techno album released at a time when ambient techno was continuously distancing itself from its past. Much of the old guard of that scene had long moved onto other music, or simply retreated into seclusion. Though always pointing to the seminal works put out by Warp, Apollo, and Fax+ as a source of inspiration, the new cats preferred pushing the genre into the realms of dub techno and clicky glitch. If there was a market for old-school leaning ambient techno, it was buried deep in glacial stasis, waiting to be thawed out when fondness for such retro sounds could flourish again. Tales From The Igloo seems to have been the tipping point that started the thaw, Mick Chillage uncompromising in crafting simple, elegant pieces that had folks namedropping ancient Biosphere, HIA, and Aphex Twin in association.

Even within the limited palette Chillage utilizes, he offers a nice array of tunes. There’s soft, brisk techno (Dubmarine, Melting Emotion, Floating In Hyperspace, Northern Lights, Precinct 14), moody Nordic ambient numbers (Hypothermia, Disturbed Earth, eleven-minute long Gateway Station), a couple tunes that meet midpoint between the two (Hidden Landscape, Rotation), and the requisite curious outlier in Under The Ice, a track with rather abrasive beats considering the surrounding music.

Another quibble with this album is the wonky track sequencing, most of the beatless, chill material lodged in the middle rather than the more sensible bookends of the LP. I often find myself drifting off midway through because of this, forgetting there’s some decent uptempo tunes towards the end. Not quibble enough, however, to not recommend Tales From The Igloo.

Lorenzo Montanà - Black Ivy

Fax +49-69/450464/Psychonavigation Records: 2009/2015

For a chap who’s relatively flown under the radar, Lorenzo Montanà’s built up quite the remarkable discography for himself. He got his break releasing this particular album back in Fax +49-69/450464’s waning days, but more impressively released five LPs titled Labyrinth with Pete Namlook. Meanwhile, Mr. Montanà found the time to release a second full-length, Serpe, on the label before they were forced to shut doors following Mr. Kaulmann’s untimely death. This all happened within the span of three years! I know the Namlookian One could draw several sessions out of well-known musicians (Klaus Schulz, Move D, Bill Laswell, etc.) but it’s damn cool he continued doing it even with new cats on the scene too. He must have had quite the synergy going with ol’ Lorenzo to rattle off so much music with him in such a short amount of time.

When Fax+ folded, Mr. Montanà migrated over to Psychonavigation Records, where he continues releasing albums at an impressive clip. Somehow they rescued his two solo releases from legal limbo as a 2CD reissue, which is technically what I’m reviewing here now. But Black Ivy is a ‘B’ album, while Serpe is an ‘S’ album, so part two of this double release will have to wait a month (really).

So now that I’ve namedropped a couple labels and producers with clearly recognizable music styles (Psychonavigation is recognizable on this blog now, yes?), that saves me some word count in describing Mr. Montanà’s work here. Because this is some difficult stuff to detail, believe you me. Not that Black Ivy is over-produced with micro-edits and the like, his forays into clicky minimalism quite tasteful and easy to take in - it kinda’ rests in the Venn diagram where classic ambient techno ends and modern IDM starts. His rhythms run the range from jazzy skitters (Erasing You, Kirkuk Lake, Misteries Of Nature) to downtempo click-glitch (Insect Invasion, Haliaras) to steady techno pulse (Sap 2, Dionaea, Black Ivy). Everything’s coupled with lush melodic pieces, usually melancholic and nicely wide-screened for an optimal listening experience. Not that I’d expect less from someone who made multi-channel albums with Namlook.

Despite these nice things said about Black Ivy, you’ve undoubtedly detected a hint of apathy with my words above. Two points of contention then. First, though this is a 2009 release, for some reason I keep thinking it’s from much earlier, say 2001-ish. The mild glitch production does keep it firmly current, but the ideas have me thinking material from a decade earlier. Did Mr. Montanà have a ton of stored, unreleased material before debuting with this?

It’d explain my other quibble with Black Ivy, in that this album doesn’t feel like an album-LP, just a collection of finely crafted tracks. Certainly nothing wrong with that, and I’d be amazed if ol’ Lorenzo knocked it out of the park on his first go. It’s a debut that shows tons of future promise in his career, just in need of some refinement with the format.

Circular - Substans

Ultimae Records: 2009

When I reviewed Circular’s Moon Pool last year, I mentioned their previous LP on Ultimae, Substans, was “a good album, but didn’t ignite much buzz”. While the second part of the sentence is true, I’m having difficulty supporting the first. I listen to this CD, hear things I like, sounds that are evocative, comforting, and interesting, even discern a loose mood around icy Nordic ambience, but God, does that latter third of the album ever evaporate in haste from my memory. Hell, even as it plays, Circular’s exercise in minimalist sonic textures and timbre fails to penetrate my cognizant synapses. I lie down with headphones, only to conk out after the uptempo cut Hurumburum (track seven out of thirteen). I go for a stroll with Substans on my other headphones, my only distraction the sidewalk in front of me – I start thinking of Transformers comics (!) during my wanderings. I literally have the album emanating from my living room speakers as I type this, and I completely missed hearing the guitar fuzz drone of Walking On Sand. Dammit, Facebook wasn’t that distracting for those three minutes.

Point being, a good album shouldn’t have moments that lose your attention. Once or twice, I can see it happening, as we live in an incredibly distracting world, but not with repeated play-throughs. I’ve thrown on Substans at least a half-dozen times since getting it a couple years back, and at least a third of it still remains a mystery to me. I can’t think of any other Ultimae release that’s accomplished this.

Such a shame. The surrounding tracks on Substans are fine pieces of music, if a little slight on execution. For the first third of the album, there’s a sense of sonic exploration, no two tracks similar in style, and typically alternating between low-key or a brisk pace. Rablekok has a deeply dubbed- out rhythm with gentle electric guitar treatments, whereas follow-up Little Girls Eat Chocolate is a charming piece of spritely chill ambience. Time Machine has a glitchy acoustic thing going for it, and is paired with darker ambient techno on Bits (Chernozem Remix). Wie Geht’s, Minsk? sounds about as close to vintage Ultimae psy-chill as this album gets, and appropriately enough has the prog psy Hurumburum come right after.

Finally, at the end of Substans, there’s Nothing But Dead Landscapes, a nine and a half excursion through droning ambient, pulsing ambient techno, and future-shock soundscapes, with a little electric guitar dub thrown in at the end for good measure. This track, above all else, deserves that Future Sound Of London comparison folks were often throwing about with regards to Circular’s music, and shows the potential of their songcraft better than anything else on here. Oh, and Biosphere too, especially with the icy ambient drone of Isroser right before it.

Unfortunately, this isn’t enough to recommend Substans for anyone other than Ultimae completists. Despite the “good album” ideas present, they don’t coalesce into a strong, long-form whole.

Sub Focus - Sub Focus (2015 Update)

RAM Records: 2009

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

I was dreading hearing Sub Focus' debut album again, despite the generally positive ‘dumb fun’ feels I recall initially having. Like, was I once forgiving of cheesy moments or generic tune writing because the beats or hooks hit me in a good mood before? Or had I been absent of such questionable music long enough for a quick dip in and out of the Fromage Pool, before retreating back to the safe, comforting confines of the Serious Music Sauna. As I age, that pool looks ever less inviting, sending cold bitter chills through my spine at the mere thought of dunking a toe within. At least, that's how the story's supposed to go. I dunno, maybe one year all that is happy hardcore will consume my everlasting being until the day I've raved into my grave.

Still, despite his incremental forays towards main stage festival fodder, Sub Focus has remained a popular name within drum 'n' bass' fold. It probably didn't hurt that, even in his early years, Nick Douwma’s sound was nicely accessible, never so rough-n-tumble or weirdly abstract to chase away recently converted junglists. They were ready for something more than Pendulum, but not that much more. You’d think that’d get him disowned by hardliners, yet I’ve talked to many veteran d’n’b heads that still look forward to a Sub Focus set. He’s somehow found that sweet spot of keeping a foot in each side of the scene. Probably doesn’t hurt he’s completely up front and honest with his poppier dalliances, always a plus in the almighty Respect Game. Sure, make your token electro house track, we’ll patiently wait it out for another rockin’ banger.

Sure enough, once I got Sub Focus playing again, I was quickly swept back in by the fun vibes Mr. Douwma gives us …for about half the album anyway. Between the heavy hitters (Let The Story Begin, World Of Hurt, Rock It) and the headier moments (Follow The Light, Last Jungle, Deep Space), you have a solid collection of d’n’b that goes down the earholes nice and easy. By the way, is it just me, or is that a riff on the Nightmare On Elm Street theme in Deep Space? Probably just a coincidence, but I can’t help but think of Freddy …In Space! when I hear it, a movie that should never, ever, be made.

As with my original listen though, this album tanks hard following the silly speed garage of Move Higher. Not just because of my low tolerance of that genre either, as the jungle cuts in the back-half simply aren’t as dope as the opening salvo, save the spacey Triple X. And, wait a moment, is that a chill-out dubstep anthem at the very end? Wow, how did I miss that before? They weren’t that common in 2009.

Overall, Sub Focus has held up fine. The things I don’t like are due to genre bias, but that can be said for the tunes I still dig too.

Various - Renaissance: The Masters Series Part 13 - Hernán Cattáneo

Renaissance: 2009

About time I take in Hernán Cattáneo. I've only been recommended him for a decade now, and kinda-wanted to hear what the big fuss was for awhile. They say he's kept the prog fires alive, long after all his DJ kin wandered elsewheres in the music world, staying the deep, groovy path while others chased clicky-glitch dirt and side-chained traintracks. Only one problem for yours truly though: Mr. Cattáneo kept releasing his mixes on expensive foreign labels like Renaissance and... um... That's pretty much his only home, isn't it? He recently got his hands in Balance, and contributed something to Perfecto way back, but by and large ol' Hernán’s had most of his spotlight burning surrounded by angelic and philosophers artwork. Not sure if he's beat out Dave Seaman for “Most All-Time Renaissance Mixes” though.

It feels weird even having a few of these Masters Series in my collection now. Like, I had one, long-long ago, a Dave Seaman mix of course. I don't remember much of anything from that except the second track (Minimalistic's Struggle For Pleasure). This was back when Ultra Records had more clout in bringing over trendy UK mix series, but I lost it during a move. Now, whenever I make a rare browse of a used shop, there's inevitably a Renaissance CD sitting there, so why not pick them up upon sight, eh?

Thus, we get to Hernán Cattáneo’s fifth contribution to The Masters Series, the thirteenth in total. Uh oh, is there some bad luck to be had on here? This did come out at the tail-end of prog-house’s infatuation with minimal and electro, and no matter what folks claim, I’m sure even Mr. Cattáneo couldn’t keep that sound totally out of his musical arsenal – can’t go getting irrelevant, right? And yep, there’s Guy Gerber’s Stoppage Time sitting at the fifth track position, a minimal tech-house ‘anthem’ if there ever was one. What kind of music leads up to it, then?

Oh! Oh wow! This is some deep, dubby, groovy stuff, mang. Spacious sounds, echoes of melody, and... okay, the beats are still in late-‘00s limp mode, but with enough shuffly percussion going on, it’s not so bad as many other ‘prog’ mixes of the time went. Even the Guy Gerber tune is pretty dope, mostly focusing on a building envelope of dubbed-out sound filters, while the rest of CD1 carries on from the tone set in the early going. There aren’t many tracks I’d point out as highlights, but Hernán’s choice of tunes maintains a steady, vibey mood throughout. Good stuff.

CD2 starts even better, with more energy in the rhythms, more melodic sweet spots (oh my God, Damabiah’s Flower Planet is practically prog German trance!), and a finish that’s... kind of a letdown of a wind down. Man, I’d thought a final sequence featuring tons of Guy J and Henry Saiz would be stronger. It doesn’t ruin a great overall collection of tunes from Cattáneo though. I believe this hype.