Antares - Exodus

Suntrip Records: 2011

What a curious year Suntrip had in 2011. Only three items came out on the label, none of which were a compilation, and two of which featured debuting artists that would barely release anything after. Well, okay, Artifact303 did re-emerge a decade later, but this Antares, not a single thing. It's like he had an itch to try his hand at that emergent new goa trance thing, put out a few tracks on some comps, made enough original tunes for a proper full-length, then basically ditched the scene thereafter. Did he just find it wanting? Felt his talents were better parlayed in metal bands? Something along those lines, I guess, but for whatever reason, the year 2011 was hexed for whoever Suntrip was pushing as fresh talent. Man, good thing E-Mantra was already well established by that point, eh?

You know what would have made this even more remarkable? If Exodus was just as awesome as Back To Space was. It's not, but then that album still ranks among the upper crust of what I've heard out of Suntrip thus far, with very little knocking it from that podium. Exodus is good enough, for sure, but man, that would just be the right all dickens if somehow the label had pulled that off in 2011 as well. (I'm assuming Pathfinder will be dope, just in a dependable E-Mantra sort of way)

Anyhow, Simon Helix shows solid fundamentals of 'getting' goa trance in this debut, which is remarkable considering he was still just a teen when he wrote this. In a way though, that's kinda' what holds Exodus back from being an all-timer, settling in that 'above average' zone many of Suntrip's releases dwell in the general psy trance scene. If you like neo-goa that doesn't muss and fuss with complications, these tunes will go down easy-peasy into your earholes. Heck, I'll go and say that it's what helps make this one of the more enjoyable sessions of psy I've endured on this comprehensive label dive, even if there isn't much here I'll actually recall later. I know calling music 'vanilla' is often used as a criticism, but sometimes you just want that inoffensive flavour tickling your tastebuds. I'll even be generous in giving Exodus a Vanilla Bean Seal Of Approval!

The titular opener offers more of a prog-psy groove, a solid mood setter that wouldn't sound out of place on an Altar Records collection. Off to the races after that, treading the same lane as Ra of new and Astral Projection of old. Squiggly synths, cosmic vibes, squelchy acid, the usual assortment of sounds. And of course I ended up liking Astral Plane the most out of this bunch, the sort of track you'd likely have found on a Hypnotic CD rather than the usual Distance To Goa fare. Closer Sun Sanctuary brings the party back to the prog-psy pace, book-ending Exodus in a fine fashion. Yep, everything wrapped in a nice, tidy bow. So, who's playing next?

Artifact303 - Back To Space

Suntrip Records: 2011

Welp, here we go again with another Suntrip CD. No sense beating around the bush, let's get this over with.

The opening track Magnetic Fields doesn't waste any time giving us some solid music. The establishing sounds are nicely spaced out, the acid laid out with finesse, and the supporting squiggly sounds are tasteful. By the time the driving synth leads emerge, this tune is well into high gear, and gosh darn it, it just keeps building that energy, and I'm somehow more hype for another Suntrip CD than I've been in a while! Wait, wasn't I feeling kinda' 'meh' going in? How did my mood do a complete one-eighty in a mere five minutes? Holy cow, Magnetic Fields is awesome!

And yet, I can't help but have a bit of trepidation in my quick enthusiasm. Oh no, is Back To Space gonna' be one of those albums, with too much of a good thing? I've heard a couple out of Suntrip like that already, artists who know how to craft a solid tune, but tend to repeat their formula for an album's duration, unfortunately leading to monotony. Well, I'll worry about that when I have to. For now, yeah, let's keep vibin' to that strong climax in the opening cut!

Okay, second track is another barn-burner, and holy shit, doesn't waste any time in getting to the dope. Then things take a turn for the... deeper? Trancier? Oh, wow, They Will Communicate actually sounds like regular ol' progressive trance – or at least a blend of goa and prog as potentially rinsed out by Paul Oakenfold when he used to do that. Yeah, the peak still rips pretty good, but it's not so tear-out as I typically hear from Suntrip artists. Heck, same as with For A Better World, the sort of psy regular trance jocks once wouldn't have much fear rinsing out.

We're at the mid-album, and I'm already rather impressed by what I've heard, and then Artifact303 does something I never would have dreamed any artist on this label would do: he changes tempo! Tropical Sunset drops the BPM several notches to groovy prog-psy levels and...

That's it. Back To Space is the best album I've heard out of this label, hands down.

I'm serious! For as much as I've generally enjoyed what I've heard thus far, each release tends to be rather samey, showing little in the way of variety or diversity. Which is fine, since Suntrip is very upfront about being a goa trance label through and through. That doesn't mean artists can't throw in a few dalliances, but few ever do.

Anyhow, the back-end of Back To Space gets back to the blistering psy and acid, but I'm already anxious to see what else this Artifact303 has done for Suntrip. According to his Discogs page... not a whole lot. In fact, this album seems to be about it. Wait, seriously, the best Suntrip record I've heard, and it was a one-and-done deal? How cruel!

Stormloop - Snowbound*

Glacial Movements Records: 2011

Yet another artist I've long meant to return to, and simply neglected for... gosh, half a decade now? There's a silly reason for this, in that when I picked up his Into The Void album, I thought I was diving into an artist with an impeccable work rate, his prior decade seeing the release of some twenty LPs worth of music. Now appearing on ..txt, it looked as though Stormloop was ready to launch his career ever higher. And there would be I, having his Bandcamp page bookmarked, getting all those early alerts that another session of lush ambient tones was about to drop. Only... it didn't.

Not that Kev Spence went totally dark after Into The Void, still releasing the odd item here and there. Just compared to his output prior, it's quite the drop-off. I'm sure there's any number of reasons for this – real world events conflicting, goals mostly accomplished, etc. - but yeah, when an artist slips from your recollection, so too does returning to their discography for another dive.

Fortunately, I was reminded of him when I started my splurge on Glacial Movements Records. Come to think of it, Stormloop was technically my introduction to the label, name-dropping them in my review of Into The Void. Didn't really make a connection then, and wouldn't for another couple years, until covering Skare's Grader. Funny how that works out. Anyhow, Glacial Movements offers bulk CD buys, so when I finally took the plunge, I was quite happy to see Stormloop's Snowbound* still among the options. Physical medium is already plenty rare in Kev's catalogue, and the fact such an old item (over a decade now!) was there for the taking, well, how can you beat that?

Just in case you weren't clear about the sort of album you're in for, the titular opener very gradually eases you into a wintry clime'. It almost feels like you're awakening from some long, restless slumber, unsure of your surroundings, biting cold piercing your flesh as you huddle yourself, gathering your bearings. The synth drone is ominous, yet somehow awe inspiring too, as though you know full well you're in an inhospitable realm that contains its own unique beauty. All the while, a steady electronic pulse carries you along, the sort of minimalist tone that will instantly get your Biosphere triggers flaring.

The desolate dark drone doesn't let up for the rest of the album. Tracks with titles like Cold Winds, A Blizzard, Dense Fog, and Losing Sleep should tell you the sort of album you're in for. We even seem to get space bound by the end, even though the foreboding tone doesn't offer much respite. There are moments of reflective tranquility (Space Station J), but once again, Glacial Movements has drawn some of the most isolationist ambient out of its contributing artists. Now excuse me while I wrap myself in more blankets. It cold here in Vancouver!

Lucette Bourdin - Nordic Waves Vol. 1: Winter

Dark Duck Records/Fantasy Enhancing: 2011/2021

Now we're getting deep into Lucette's discography, as there's nothing like a seasonal series to inflate one's catalogue. That's right, folks, you're looking at the start of a full week of Ms. Bourdin's works, so if all this box-set Retrospective coverage hasn't yet grabbed you... um, maybe stick around anyway? Who knows, maybe these will be the ones that finally hook the stragglers in!

Nordic Waves came about late in Lucette's musical timeline, which isn't surprising as most artists get more conceptual as their career caries on. Not that her music wasn't conceptual in the first place, in that most ambient music is all about the artistic concept of wallpaper music to begin with. If anything, focusing on a highly specific theme like the seasons of a particular region of the world substantially narrows the genre's potential abstraction. As for why the French lass would find inspiration with Scandinavian clime's, I honestly don't know. Maybe she had a childhood summer home there?

Winter is as appropriate a jumping-on point for this series as any, since one can't help but think of cold, snowy months when thinking of Nordic regions. Never mind that thanks to temperate waters coming off the Atlantic Gulf Stream, those coastal shores aren't nearly as frigid as most other areas along the same latitudes. You think The North, you think dark vistas with aurora borealis shining in night skies, their ethereal glow glimmering off snow and ice as tiny enclaves of warm lights huddle in remote clusters. At least, that's the imagery that paints in my head as opener Echoes Of The Wind plays. It's a mostly simple bit of ambient drone, but the way the synth pads glide along can't help but conjure images of Northern Lights dancing above.

Ocean Swells offers more of a leading melody within its pad layers, while Moonlight On Ice brings things down to more minimalist drone, melody subtle and gentle, as though the world is locked in content hibernation. Not to be outdone, Hibernation maintains such mood, while including softly ebbing windy synths, the track very much breathing you into a tranquil slumber as the outside world remains locked in ice. Meanwhile, fourteen minute closer The One Hundredth Name Of Snow actually perks things up a little, hinting at the coming warmth stirring everything awake once more.

The track that really caught my attention, though, was the comparatively shorter Shimmering Sky. Is it just me, or are those synth straight out of vintage Pete Namlook's wheelhouse? I've long wondered why Fantasy Enhancing was so hype in giving Lucette Bourdin a boxset restrospective, especially when there are so many (just... so many) other ambient artists out there who could have their own boxsets. And now I can't help but suspect this was one of the tracks that clued the Fax+ fan community into her sound, thus giving her a slight insiders-edge on everyone else. Or maybe it's just a big ol' coincidence. Stupid brain, making connections where there are none.

Various - Fabric 58: Craig Richards Presents The Nothing Special

Fabric: 2011

This is a strange edition. Oh, not the music within, most of it serviceable deep techno and tech-house as you'd expect from a resident of the Fabric nightclub. It's not even odd, if a little self-serving, that Craig Richards would have multiple sets in the fabric series. He kicked things off with Fabric 01, and naturally concluded it with Terry Francis and Keith Reilly in the triple-disc Fabric 100. Relatively early in fabric's lifespan, he used his Tyrant alias to do a double-disc set for Fabric 15. I don't think there was another 2CD edition of fabric or FabricLive after (centennial volume notwithstanding), so clearly a format the Fabric faithful weren't keen on. How nice of Mr. Richards taking that fumble with Tyrant.

Still, an artist using different aliases for different Fabrics wasn't unheard of. Heck, using a Fabric set as a promotional springboard for another project was almost expected, especially if someone had an album, label, or club night to launch. Such seems to be the case with Fabric 58, The Nothing Special a label that Craig Richards was set to premiere later that year. Or was it something else, and simply became a label? I'm not entirely sure, finding little info about this CD a decade on. Something about Craig wanting to create a specific night at Fabric where he'd have to DJ around live acts, but I hear little in this set that reflects such a purpose, Fabric 58 going as it means to go on in the hands of Mr. Richards.

All this, yet that's still not what boggles my mind about Fabric 58. No, what truly astounds me about this CD is how it disrupts the then-current cover art theme! Fabric always featured a trilogy of unique art that never had much of anything to do with the DJ involved. Sometimes you lucked out with cool silhouette urban art or abstract drawings, other times you'd be saddled with the guy with an octopus on his head. At this point in fabric's timeline (volumes 57 to 60) , it was people in striking-coloured bodysuits being assaulted by similarly coloured technology. Hey, such bodysuits were trendy back then, and if nothing else, one of the more memorable runs of cover art in fabric's history. But right smack in the middle of it, interrupting the sequence and triggering all sorts of OCD, comes Craig Richards' stark black 58. What, does he think he runs Fabric or something?

Okay, okay. The mix. Like I said, it's basically a deep tech-house outing, with a slant towards Detroitism. He throws in a liberal amount of '90s tunes from the likes of Two Lone Swordsmen, G-Man, Eco Tourist, Joel Mull, and Johnny Fiasco, and unsurprisingly are more interesting than the upfront material. I find Craig takes a bit too long to warm things up, nor does it shift any higher than mid-gear, but compared to the occasional dry sterility of fabric's previous half-decade, this one nicely bumps once it gets going.

The Boats - Do The Boats Dream Of Electric Fritz Pfleumer?

Slaapwel Records: 2011

Before I get into who The Boats are, I should probably get into who Fritz Pfleumer was. Okay, maybe you know Fritz Pfleumer, o' gear-hound of yore, but for most, such a name undoubtedly comes off like a wacky Looney Tunes antagonist. Ahh, you can almost hear it pronounced in Mel Blanc's over-the-top German accent.

But no, Mr. Pfleumer's main contribution to history was nothing less than the invention of the magnetic recording tape. Yes, that tape, as in the source of audio for cassettes, 8-tracks, reel-to-reels, DATs, VHS, and al in between. Almost everything we take for granted in music consumption in the past century can be linked to Fritz' invention, the technology still in use by analogue purists to this day. His name should be on the tongues of far more folks, said in the same breath as the likes of Edison, but a little event called World War II kinda' post-poned any mass marketing or production of his revolutionary recording technique. It wasn't a terribly good time to be a German inventor during those years.

Knowing all this, it makes sense, then, that The Boats were inspired in naming their Slaapwel contribution as an album paying tribute to ol' Fritz. Erm, if you even know who The Boats are. I honestly don't know much about them, beyond whatever Lord Discogs tells me. Founded by Andrew Hargreaves and Craig Tattersall, later joined by Danny Norbury, their catalogue contains over a dozen albums, with piles upon piles of side-projects, solo joints, alternate aliases, and collaborative works among all three. I can't be arsed to deep-dive into all this for more context, but from what I can easily glean, they love themselves some tape loop experimentation, often crafting fuzzy, twee indie-pop chill tunes around it. Quite pleasant stuff, if that's your thing, which sometimes is my thing, but again, so much of it ...just so much. Do The Boats Dream Of Electric Fritz Pfleumer? probably wasn't the best jumping on point, but eh, how could I resist another album with cover art of a boat locked in ice?

Right off the bat, the tape hiss and analogue fuzz is in full effect, practically overwhelming what minimal sound and tone makes its way through. Sparse plok-pok percussion, a lazy drone that seems to sway as though gently bobbing on waves, while intermittent bell chimes, guitar plucking, and other assorted instruments break up any monotony. Not that The Boats do anything to actively draw your attention to such sounds. You're supposed to be falling asleep to this, after all, and everything's so quiet you'd have to actually crank the stereo to hear much of it over the persistent sonic fuzz.

If you do manage to stay awake for the single track's thirty-six minute length, things do get more 'active' as we move along. Midway, a more prominent string section emerges, while the drone tone grows stronger, even overtaking the endless tape hiss. Almost seems menacing compared the earlier tranquility. Hopefully you'll have nodded off by then.

Purl - Deep Ground

Silent Season: 2011

Now this was fortuitous of me, finding an O.G. CD of not only any ol' Silent Season release, but a Purl one at that. Mind, this isn't one of the label's initial run of CDs, lacking their distinct gatefold design with recycled cardboard casing. Far as I can tell, this album came out with the launch of Silent Season's 'download series' (hence catalogue numbers being SSDxx), so it makes sense they'd spend less effort on a CD option. Wasn't the label mostly a digital one in the first place though? I guess, but growing positive buzz at the start of the '10s probably spurred on a little re-launch in the process.

All well and good for Silent Season, but there's a nice additional talking point to this CD where Purl is concerned, in that it's his first album to receive the CD treatment at all. True, it was just his third LP released, but for a chap who's put out a couple dozen albums this past decade, hard copy editions remain rare, especially the earlier half of his career. In fact, he never put out another CD until his Silent Season follow-up Stillpoint (so sayeth Lord Discogs). As his profile has grown, Purl's expanded his reach across more labels that do offer physical options, making these initial steps beyond the only-digital realm nifty little artifacts of a discography on the rise. So goes the line of marketing in the collector's world anyway.

And what sort of sounds may we find on Ludvig's debut Silent Season outing? Dub techno and ambient drone of course – it's the label's brand, after all. That may not seem such a big deal since it's familiar ground where Purl music is concerned, but his prior couple albums had been mostly pure ambient exercises with dubby overtones. Rhythms were not really part of his repertoire yet.

On Deep Ground however, he goes all out, unleashing the fiercest, freshest beats that- No, not really. First proper track Sus is actually quite laid back, a distant techno rhythm gliding along a gentle backing synth, sounding not too out of place on an old Aphex Twin collection. Elsewhere, Storisende feels almost proggy with its comparatively prominent chugging rhythm, its backing layered pads no less blissy than anything else in Purl's discography.

The over-arching influence of dub techno couldn't be ignored though, and Under Trädens Rötter sounds like it could have come from one of Wolfgang Voigt's Gas sessions, though more mysterious than ominous. Sargyll, meanwhile, goes real deep into the dub muck, its rhythm barely a low thrum as sound echo off cavernous spaces.

It's not all dub techno, half of Deep Ground made up of ambient pieces of varying length (shortest: three, thirty-three; longest: ten, thirty-nine). They're all nice affairs, typical of Purl's style at the time, but oddly sequenced, making the album's flow a little wonky in the process. By no means a deal breaker though, Deep Ground definitely worth scoping out among Purl's many LPs.

Nacht Plank - Broad Tape Band

self-release: 2011

I feel like I've come full circle with this release, which is weird because I wasn't aware of travelling on any particular path. Maybe not so much a circle, but hexagon? A Fibonacci sequence spiral? Some sort of Lee Norris route that had me starting with a Nacht Plank album, and ending on a Nacht Plank album. Not that Alien and Broad Tape Band are the first or last of Lee's projects covered here. Of what I have checked out though, the former was the first of his solo outings, and I'm sure there will be other Norken, Metamatics, or Crowbar Stardust items down the line.

Somehow, I keep being drawn back to Nacht Plank, which is weird because I can't say it's among my favourite of Norris' projects, at least not enough for a full-on deep dive. Really, I only have this and Third Sacraments Council because they were among those Bandcamp giveaways he offered some years back. But hey, I liked that one, so maybe Broad Tape Band will bring something more to enjoy.

Eh? You remember me thinking Broad Tape Band as 'harsh'? Ah yes, I did mention that in the Alien review, after taking a small sampling of sounds. It wasn't hard coming to that conclusion skipping through tracks, eighteen in all. Only a few breach the four-minute mark, while several log in under three minutes. Plenty of space for weird sonic experiments with vintage gear, creating static bursts, sputtering sequencers and atonal drones. Not the most pleasant of noises to sit through, unless you're approaching things from a purely intellectual stance. Or are intimately familiar with the equipment used, and get your vibe on hearing the sounds coerced from them. For sure there are those out there who dig it, I'm just not one of them.

When Lee does let the music breathe a little, there is some nice stuff. I'll grant it's sporadic, and takes until track ten for such a thing to happen (at least for me), but A Plants Day In Stages at least feels like it's going somewhere, less about the abstract experimentation, and painting weird, avant garde minimalist portrait. Elsewhere, whatever 'songs' might have once existed in prior tracks are generally subsumed by glitchy noises or static noise. Only Paoiz hints at a song, but doesn't last long enough to stick in the brain.

But gosh, there's a real gentle melody to hang off on in Field Piano Form. A lovely little thing, piercing the analogue fuzz, occasionally drifting on dubby, metallic rhythms. It rather reminds me of Jam & Spoon's Ancient Dream, itself from their weirdo experimental album, Tripomatic Fairytales 2002, though not to such extremes as heard here. Speaking of 'remembering things', I swear some of the whirring noises in Sirron come from FSOL's Lifeforms, one of the interstitial bits. Or is it Henge I heard it? I dunno, all these whirring bits and transistor bloops kinda' run together after a while on this album.

Various - Berghain 05: Marcel Fengler

Ostgut Ton: 2011

Yet another item I attained after doing that which I never, ever did: following the recommendation of a Resident Advisor 'Best Of' list. It was 2011, see, a year I was slowly crawling out of my 2010 funk, but not terribly enthused about digging about on my own. Such lists are handy for such folk, and from the quick samples I heard from Berghain 05, it sounded promising enough for further inspection.

And what I'd discovered was techno had seen some upheaval in the past few years since my last serious forays into that scene (during the dark times, during the MNML). I'd heard a few items to that point, mostly out of the Ostgut Ton camp as well. Still, I needed something a little extra to convince me the scene had indeed moved on, a definitive statement that the plinky-plonk monotony of the decade prior had truly been put to pasture. And what better series could there be than the one in service of the club most responsible for the shift in clubbing taste? None better series than Berghain, so I was told.

The chap tasked with handling the fifth edition of the series is Marcel Fengler, a resident of the famed club during its peak years of prominence. He never gained the same level of critical prestige as others from that era (Dettman, Faki, Klock), but had a respectable following just the same. Then... something happened? Some sort of falling out and parting of ways between the club and he? I don't know about that, but I do notice all his releases are scrubbed from the Ostgut Ton Bandcamp page. Whatever, I'm here to review a DJ mix from before all that.

Marcel opens his set with over-dubbed vocals, then explodes into shimmery synths that... okay, isn't trance, but sure is a lot more melodic than anything I'd expected from techno in those days. You got my attention, Mr. Fengler. Oh, you're doing the minimal thing for a bit after, aren't you. Well, it's acidy and dubby, crunchy minimal techno – the vintage Berghain sound – so that's fine by me. Sweet, there's even an L.B. Dub Corp rub worked in there too. I sure likes me some L.B. Dub Corp, so rare as it is.

From there, things settle into more of a Detroit groove, or Europeans trying to do a Detroit groove. Just kidding, there's some authentic Motor City alum in this mix too, such as Claude Young (though hanging out with Japanese guys by this point) and, uh... Okay, for some reason, I thought acts like Skudge and Ben Sims hailed from this side of the Atlantic, but I was wrong. Don't matter, there's enough spacey future-funk and techno-stomp in this set to fake it until they make it (to DEMF). And hey, there's a Convextion track to end on, long before when Gerald Hanson properly unearthed the project. That counts close to a proper Detroit closer, don't it?

Various - Balance 020: Deetron

Balance: 2011

Venturing into unknown territory here, in more ways than one. Yeah, this is the first time I've wandered beyond Agoria's Balance set, but as mentioned, I did keep tabs on which DJs would come and go. Pretty nearly all, I was somewhat familiar with. The vets of old (Timo Maas, Nick Warren, Funk D'Void), the newer cats gaining buzz (Nic Fanciulli, Henry Saiz, Radio Slave), and such. Deetron, however, is a comparative blank for me. Like, I'm sure I've seen the name pop up here and there, but there were no tracks or remixes of his that nabbed my attention, no massive hype cycles proclaiming this or that set as decade defining. I won't deny some of that may be due to my own lack of exploration of some scenes, but considering I haven't had this problem with most other jocks in this series (within the main line, at least), it does feel odd having this much of a blank regarding Deetron.

And Lord Discogs isn't much help either, simply stating Swiss-born Sam Geiser as having been using the Deetron alias for a good two decades now. The bulk of his singles came out through famed Belgian print Music Man Records, and appearing on numerous DJ mixes from jocks ranging quite the spectrum (Pete Tong, Carl Cox, Adam Beyer, Ken Ishii, Stanny Franssen, Knee Deep, Frango (2)). Boy, folks sure liked that I Cling tune. Was that the bump that got Deetron enough notice for a Balance set?

Though the series had drifted away from mega-conceptual mixes, Mr. Deets brings a couple different approaches with each disc he's given: one done digitally, the other analogue. Won't deny seeing a twenty-six tracker for the Digital CD1 had me a little side-eyed with visions of Joris Voorn, but the analogue set has one track more, so why should I worry? And disc one is fine enough, though changes pace in tone so many times it's hard to gain any moment. It felt like Sam was using digital's abilities to coerce transitions between tracks that really had no business being together, but it didn't create a disjointed mess either. Besides, it worked well enough for Jimmy Van M, so no sense niggling the inconsequential details. Speaking of Jimmy, Deetron opens CD1 with Autechre's Egg, which Van M also used, marking this, I believe, the first instance of a repeat song within Balance canon. Of course Jimmy would do it first.

Digital may be more diverse with its deep house and nu-jazz and downbeats and Throbbing Gristles, but I'm fully on the train with Analogue, a proper house 'n' techno ride that keeps the pace steady and on the up. I can almost feel Deetron riding the wheels of steel with each transition, and gosh, wouldn't you know it, kinda' makes me want to check out those Fabric and DJ-Kicks outings of his, if it's more of this! Not so much the first disc though. Would definitely need to try before I buy.

Phantogram - Nightlife

Bursak Records: 2011

(a Discography Patreon Request from Omskbird)

The debut album's out, the buzz is building, but all that touring is impacting your ability to hop into the studio for another full-length session. Fortunately, the good ol' mini-album option has become quite fruitful in the modern era, a handful of songs all that's needed to be propelled into super-stardom. Why, look at that Skrillex kid, one of the biggest acts of 2011, based almost entirely off a single EP. If he can do it, why not Phantogram? Oh, that whole 'completely different genre and scene' factor, I guess. Yeah, Josh Carter and Sarah Barthel definitely make music of a different style compared to headline festival mosh. I sure didn't hear anything resembling overblown anthems in Eyelid Movies, nothing even hinting at such potential. Guess they'll stay in their lane, the steady rise of synth-pop songcraft within a nurturing indie scene bringing them the fame their later sales numbers indicate. Have I mentioned looking only at Wiki sales charts isn't a good idea to get a full story of a band's development?

The other good thing about making a mini-album is how it keeps things to the point. Eyelid Movies had plenty of good musical ideas about it, but was kinda' rambly in its direction too, one of those LPs where the musicians tend to throw everything at the wall. Such is the case with many debut albums though, muses bursting at the seems to flood out for all to hear. Typically a producer can reign things in, but Phantogram apparently did it all themselves, so here we are. Time to focus your ideas into with surgical precision, then, using what you've learned and build upon it.

Nightlife definitely is that, to such a degree I almost wish this had been longer, exploring these musical ideas and themes for a proper full-length. Sure, the concept is straight-forward enough, one of those inside-out looks at the self-destructive romanticism of hitting up bars and clubs when you're young. I'm sure touring about exposed Sarah and Josh to all manner of ups and downs within their scene, the decadent highs and the dilapidated lows. It's not a specific narrative, mind you, but it does capture the roller coaster of feelings in a night out with an always lingering, nagging doubt of whether your actions mean anything at all. Or maybe I'm reading a bit much into it, but hey, sometimes over-analyzing music half the fun of listening to music. Like, it's practically a mission statement from all those Pitchfork wanna-be clones that existed a decade ago. This is catnip for them! The indie-leaning genre fusion too.

Oh, and of that genre fusion? Yeah, it's still on that synthy indie-rock, dream-pop vein, though less of the wilder leaps into things like funk and soul and whatnot from Eyelid Movies. Again, smaller record, less room to let the muses roam free. Makes for a nice, tight listening experience though, leaving the listener anxious for more. All hail the mini-album, for those who don't have time for artistic bullshit!

Various - Hed Kandi World Series: Miami

Hed Kandi: 2011

Someone must have told the Hed Kandi offices they done fucked up on the London volume of World Series, because is this ever an improvement. It's still not great, mind you, but Miami at least feels like a Hed Kandi release, unlike the generic, soulless Ministry Of Sound bandwagon jump London was. Even a glance at the tracklist shows the music steering back to the tried, tested and true vibes of days gone by. Wally Lopez! Olav Basoski! The Shapeshifters! Funkagenda! StoneBridge! Like, seriously, StoneBridge is one of the stalwarts of Hed Kandi, always getting repped in their compilations, and London had him not. That alone proves how full of fail those CDs were (no offence to Avicii, but c'mon).

All hyperbole aside, I should bring y'all up to speed on what the World Series was all about. Far as I can tell, it was Ministry Of Sound Hed Kandi's attempt at a Global Underground styled globe-trotting DJ mix series, though focusing on top-tier fashion locales as well as clubbing hot spots. Not an entirely daft idea for a series, and the Hed Kandi of old certainly branded itself as something of a trendy taste-maker within that particular scene.

Thus the inlays are filled with spiffy write-ups about hot clubs, cool restaurants, and must-visit boutique shops (why yes, Ministry Of Sound was the first club mentioned in the London inlay, why do you ask?). Again, not a bad idea for extra promotional branding, but it seems the series wasn't long for the world (arf), folding shortly after this volume. Interestingly, Miami is the only locale with a sequel. Just can't beat those Latin jams, eh? Or those WMC perks.

To be critically honest though, both discs are filled with big builds and anthems and all that rot I bitched about in the London mixes (different local DJs handle each disc, but their styles are so similar, it's a moot point who they are). The difference is how they deliver though, how many of the peaks actually thrust forward with enthusiasm, not drop into a plodding anti-anthem. Oh, this build lasts over a minute? Don't matter, 'cause that peak with the bellowing diva is gonna' have you flailing like a junglist! Okay, maybe not that enthusiastically, but more than whatever those dopes on ketamine are up to.

Granted, it's not all forward-momentum goodness all the time. There are stretches where the builds are too gratuitous or don't deliver what they promise or don't serve any purpose other than having a build for build's sake because you gotta' have a build in every single track in a Ministry Of Sound mandated release. In a way though, it almost works, the lesser builds highlighting how good the great builds are. Plus, the fact it all sounds like Hed Kandi music (except that one McProg track, wha'da'fuq?), shameless and shallow but disco-y and fun, that's good too. Look, after the abysmal showing in the previous World Series collection, I'll take it.

Ezdanitoff - We Bring Light

Silentes Minimal Editions: 2011

This was included in Databloem's 'mystery bundle', and did it ever cement my suspicion the offer was little more than a dumping ground of dead stock. No fault of the contents within, mind you, but cover art such as this hardly inspires impulse buys. Maybe if the photo was washed-out, adding aged grit and grime, you might convince a passer-by of it being some Boards Of Canada knock-off. As it stands though, your first impression is either an utterly twee electro-pop outing, or an incomprehensible experimental collection, using charming family photos as an ironic contrast to the anti-sounds you're about to experience.

If you're at all familiar with the players involved with this one-off project, you'd know it to be the latter case. One half is Wouter Jaspers, who hasn't done much beyond collaborations here and there, his work with Steffan de Turck as Preliminary Saturation probably the most fruitful of his pairings. The other half of Ezdanitoff, however, is Frans de Waard, who's been making experimental music as Kapotte Muziek since, gosh, the '80s? A very long time, to say the least, with around a dozen more aliases and group projects to his name. Not to mention running a handful of labels such as Bake Records, Korm Plastics, and ...Plinkity Plonk Records? Haha, and that was established in the late '90s too? Not that I'm saying he could have predicted such a term becoming synonymous with the worst of minimal-tech, but leave it to an experimental outfit coining it well before the curve.

We Bring Light first emerged on Waard's My Own Little Label print as a mini-album, but was expanded to a full-length LP with three additional tracks a year later. Some of them are welcome additions, others... well, it is an experimental album, featuring a pair of chaps quite enamoured with field recordings and transistor tweets.

Opener Gentle Men starts innocuously enough, with gentle bleepy noises, rushed footsteps, and children playing, but man, do those harsh 'melodies' ever grate at the end. The titular follow-up features what sounds like someone sucking and blowing through a straw into a glass or bowl of... I want to say water, but really, it could be any sort of liquid. Maybe I don't want to know.

I was almost ready to write this album off when third track First Circle offers an actual, true-blue warbly melody that almost brings to mind the 'hauntology' vibes you might have expected from the cover art. The rest of the album kinda' flits between abstract sound experiments and twitchy-analogue melodies, which at least maintains the weirdo atmosphere of the whole thing. Then, in the final five seconds, you hear the beeping of an alarm clock, shaking you out of whatever bizarre, lucid dreamstate you've endured for the past little while, leaving you wondering if you even experienced it at all. Can't deny it's an effective way of wrapping We Bring Light up, almost making it worth your while to listen to the album in full. Almost.

Raekwon - Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang

Ice H2o Records: 2011

Sometime last year, I stumbled upon a YouTube video where Raekwon was tasked with ranking all of his albums. What a wonderful concept, thinks I! Sure, you could argue an artist will unequivocally praise everything they release, but if put to the grinder with some proper self-critical honesty, surely some interesting results may come about. Like, how would someone like Neil Young, with his extensive discography, rank his albums? Even he's admitted when some records don't turn out as well as hoped though, so what about a producer who only knows how to blow smoke up their own ass? You know, the Armins and Tiestos of the world.

Anyhow, Raekwon's self-summary didn't reveal that many surprises (even he thinks Immobilarity was a disappointment), but it did clue me into a bunch of his records I had totally forgotten. Yes, even with all the entries at Lord Discogs. Too many mixtapes among the official albums, see, making me wonder what is what and all that rot. His ranking video at least parred things some, with this particular Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang coming in high near the top of his picks (nothing was gonna' dethrone Only Built For Cuban Linx).

I do recall seeing some stuff about this album, but figured it just another in an endless stream of mixtapes the Chef was cooking up around the time. Rather, this was his attempt to bring the classic, gritty Wu-Tang street style back to the fore', as he believed RZA had led the group too far astray with his musical indulgences. Bold moves, but at some point even the disciples must challenge The Abbot, and with the blessings of RZA's many producing proteges (Alchemist, Mathematics, Bronze Nazareth) plus seasoned vets of hip-hop (Erick Sermon, Scram Jones, DJ Khalil, many others...), this looked to be a dope round of vintage Wu bangers indeed.

And the titular opener starts with those classic chop-sockey samples setting the theme, then urgent strings with thumping beats hit as Rae's flow is focused and commanding. Why does it sound like he's skipping a word or two like he's catching his breath though? It continues into Every Soldier In The Hood, and when Method Man's verse comes in with a third of the words snuffed out, a cold realization hits me: I've ended up with a busted-ass 'clean' version of this album! Bloody Hell, no wonder it was so cheap on Amazon.

Well, that's a bummer. How can I enjoy an album with so many missing lyrics? Why make such a version? Seriously, who's gonna' buy any edited version of a slummy hip-hop album, especially one with hardly a hope of crossover appeal? At least there's an uncensored Spotify option, but man, Shaolin vs. Wu-Tang had no hope of making a solid first impression upon me because of this. Even more damning is, as a long time Wu-Tang fan, there's a lot to like here, but my CD copy will never get another spin. Denied a proper play-through on my proper sound-system, forever.

Waki - Hurry Up And Relax

Databloem: 2011

Oh, is that an order? A command? A decree? I... don't think I can take that kind of pressure. Like, have you ever had one of those nights where you have to wake up at a specific time to make important appointments, and you can't help but feel stressed out over the need to just relax and get to sleep? Having an album title literally demand that of you is that feeling, only ten times more so! What happens if I don't hurry up and relax as Waki instructs me to? Will I not get the full context of this record without my brain turning its attention span down several notches within the first few minutes? Or will something more sinister, more insidious happen, like a ticking time-bomb planted within my psyche that will implode if I don't chill the f' down soon enough? Should I consider the caffeine content within my bloodstream before throwing this album on, whether it will significantly impede upon my ability to relax within the ascribed amount of time Waki has allotted within, whatever that time-frame may be? Just so much pressure from a single title. Just... so much...

Even more disconcerting is the fact that Hurry Up And Relax is such a schizophrenic album, I couldn't chill out to it if I tried. You'd think this being out on Databloem, it'd contain some nice ambient passages, or pleasant downtempo vibes. And it does, but th'ar be techno here too. And Kraftwerkian electro-pop. And ...drum 'n' bass? No, wait, Drum & Space is atmospheric jungle – totally different! Still doesn't make a lick of sense on Databloem though.

Still, Wakisaka Akifumi has been a rather eclectic musician for much of his career, so genre dalliances isn't that much out of the norm. Mostly fussing about in Japanese obscurity while self-releasing his stuff throughout the '90s, he caught a small break getting picked up by trendy Cologne techno label Traum Schallplatten (Music For Lazy People), then shortly after got a release on the fledgling Databloem (Music For Waki People). This is the follow-up to that, released some seven years later. Guess he figured the 4CD retrospective Special he released in between would sate all the Waki-fans for a while.

When I say Hurry Up And Relax is schizo', I ain't messing. This album has the sort of lengthy, minimalist pieces of dense timbre you'd expect out of harmonic Japanese ambient, but will follow them up with something out of a totally different release. Stargate sounds like it should be in a Swayzak DJ set, not surrounded by two atonal drone compositions. How does Ocean's retro Berlin-School noodling mesh with the aforementioned Drum & Space? Going from the languid ambience of Family to the oddball electro-pop of Dr. Loveburger? Sure, I think these are all interesting tracks on their own, but come off nonsensical when mashed all together as they are here. Context: an important factor that I'm either completely missing, or Hurry Up And Relax lacks regardless.

Pinch & Shackleton - Pinch & Shackleton

Honest Jon's Records: 2011

(a Patreon Request)

It wouldn't surprise me if this collaboration between Pinch and Shackleton had been counted upon to rescue dubstep from the clutches of bro-dom when it first came out (yes, another 'great hope' – there were a few of those). Here were two of the genre's founding fathers, a pair of producers who took the early concepts of dubby, minimalist bass music into mutant strains few knew what to make of at the time. It had those half-step rhythms and powerful low frequencies though, plus was getting rinsed out in haunts throughout the London underground, so it must be dubstep. Until it wasn't anymore, because dubstep officially became something almost diametrically opposite to this, save some scene lineage. Ah, reminds me of the good ol' trance-eurotrance wars, it does.

In any event, despite coming up through the dubstep ranks along similar paths, these 'future garage' guys never really crossed paths – probably didn't help that Shackleton had shacked up in Berlin while Pinch had pitched his tent in Bristol. Also, Shackleton had his own label to essentially self-release material with Appleblim (Skull Disco), while providing the odd tune for tech-house prints like Crosstown Rebels and Perlon. Meanwhile, Pinch was releasing stuff on his own Tectonic, with additional contributions to leftfield rhythms label Planet Mu. They had to cross roads eventually though (releasing fabric mixes about a year apart maybe helped), and thus the deed was done with this self-titled album, surprisingly both their official sophomore efforts in the long-player format (so sayeth Lord Discogs).

Even with but a skimming of each producer's output to this point, Pinch & Shackleton delivered mostly what I expected out of such a pairing. Surprisingly though, it offered something more, or rather something familiar that may have been incidentally arrived by both players. Or perhaps not, the roots of such dub production a genetic through-line since UK ravers were first transposing the sounds of Jamaican transplants into all manner of house, techno, downtempo, and 'ardcore. Still, I couldn't deny, hearing those tribal rhythms and samples, the stripped back songcraft, and the desire to explore between the sonic spaces, that I was getting some serious Sandoz and Bandulu flashbacks on this album (because it always comes back to them for my dubby tribal techno influences; PWoG, too).

I'm hesitant to say it's a one-for-one comparison though, as many tracks here could only have been made in a post-dubstep climate. The urgent opening build of Torn & Submerged, for instance, or the gnarly bass growl of Burning Blood, are the sorts of sonic markers that have been UK bass staples for over a decade now. Tracks that edge closer to tribal-techno's realm though (Jellybones, Levitation, Rooms Within A Room) could have been obscure '90s cuts, though definitely with finer production on hand. Yes, no matter how 'gritty and stripped' Pinch and Shackleton's aesthetic is to the modern ear, those overwhelming bass frequencies remain quite contemporary. Ain't nothing from 'back when' sounding this vast in my headphone space, nosiree.

Axs - Arctic Circle

Silent Season: 2011

It's about time I accept many of those original Silent Season CDs are well and truly out of my financial reach. Yes, even more so than the elusive early Autumn Of Communion discs. I mean, I shouldn't feel bad about digging into their digital catalogue, most of their initial run released as MP3 or WAV only options anwyay; heck, it was a full year before they even added their distinctive photographic cover art of Pacific Northwest scenery. Such is the way of things now, and if Bandcamp streams remains the best option of hearing items like Atheus' Compile or Purl's Deep Ground, then so be it. Just would be nice to plug that into my main sound system at some point, is all I'm sayin'. Maybe I just need to upgrade my computer speakers too.

Thus it is so with Arctic Circle from Axs (or Dj AXS, or Alexander Gouard), because if I'm finally gonna' dig on me some Silent Season digital, it may as well be the one with the derelict boat. Well, not so much derelict, but sunken, abandoned, left to rot in the foggy harbours of the Georgia Strait. A once proud fishing (crabbing?) vessel little more than a rusting hulk, soon to be home for all manner of barnacles, mussels, starfish, and tiny baby salmon. There's certain themes I like in my cover art, is what I'm saying, and if it ain't blue, then an abandoned boat will do. Landlocked preferable, but I cannot deny seeing this one half-submerged brings the strange melancholy feels just the same. Incidentally, this is possibly the most presence of humanity that's ever graced a Silent Season photo-cover. Figures it also depicts nature reclaiming it.

Mr. Gourard had a fairly productive half-decade of activity (so sayeth Lord Discogs). He floated about various labels like Other Heights, Red Dye, and ZeECc, plus had his own short-lived print called Blue Oranges. Following a three album stint with Recycled Plastics, his output appears to have dried up, going quiet these past five years on the production front. Arctic Circle came out around the middle of all that, his lone contribution to the Silent Season saga.

So we're in dub techno and ambient drone territory, as expected with this label. There's the calm and soothing layers of timbre as found in Empty Sky and Frozen Signpost, plus the slightly uptempo tracks like Compass and Edge Of The Chasm. Meanwhile, Glass Dome touches on some good ol' Biosphere-styled drone dub, with an ultra-long fade-out that would have Geir watching his clock a little. What surprised me though, was when this album cautiously tread into dark ambient's domain. Island At The Brink Of Time is quite desolate and sparse, mysterious and cold as the northern winter skies, while The Dusk Glade creates something of a claustrophobic vibe, as though the empty tundra suffocates you under its overwhelming desolation. I guess that explains the oceanic wreck on the cover art – dark ambient loves its boat ruins.

Sakanaction - Documentaly

Victor Entertainment: 2011

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I've mentioned plenty my enjoyment of 'foreign speaking' music is typically at a surface level. Like, I'll dig a French rapper riding a beat just as much as any Jamaican toaster, even if I don't have much clue of what either are saying (and one of them raps in English! ...kinda'). And as I've sifted through various Japanese indie and pop singers, so too have I come to at least appreciate their singing cadence in relation to the music, if not so much the lyrical content. Not that I really had much to dig through anyway, most topics dealing with the same things much of Western music does (love, reflections, historical figures). This Documentaly though, this one I was informed that it was imperative that I not only check out the lyrics involved, but also how they came about. Great, homework. Whatever happened to just feelin' the music? Ack, no, must... resist... jazz... snobbery!

Sakanaction is a five piece rock band that incorporates electronic elements, seeing their star shine ever brighter as the years went on. For the past decade, their singles and albums have consistently lay within the Japanese Top 10, with the self-titled fifth one finally hitting that always coveted number one spot. Sakanaction's previous two albums come close though, and as is so often the case with indie bands with humble roots, that increased fame and fortune started weighing on the members' minds, especially so lead singer Ichiro Yamaguchi.

The first half of Documentaly features songs with titles like Identity, Monochrome Tokyo, and Mask Town, and without even reading the lyrics, I can already tell they deal with the desaturated existence of celebrity, where coming into contact with so many faces causes a disconnect with your fellow person, humanity bleeding into a mass of near-nothingness. Heck, one just has to live in a large city to feel that, passing by countless people without knowing or caring who they are. Even some of the attempts at connectivity (Rookie and Anteres To Hari) are met with self-doubt and loneliness. Still, all this doesn't distract from the musical content, mostly peppy indie rock and dance-pop tunes (damn, some of those synths are mint).

Then the album takes a startling turn. There's a curious moment of silence at the mid-way mark, a somber, slower shoegaze jam with minimal lyrics following (Streamline Wave). The following tracks are mostly humbler in tone too, with titles more abstract. I thought it an interesting change of tone, but when I did the background research, it all became far more poignant.

For you see, this album was made at the same time as the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, an event so disastrous, Yamaguchi suddenly felt his songs about personal isolation were no longer so poignant. The back-half of Documentaly touches upon these topics less directly than the material in the first half, but man, one can't help but feel the empathy coming from these guys as they hope their countrymen can rebuild from nature's indifferent destruction.

James Blake - James Blake

Universal Republic Records: 2011

(a Patreon Request)

I was in serious music exploring doldrums in the year 2011, due to albums like this. Nothing specifically on it, mind you; heck, I didn't even bother checking if I might like it or not. When an act gets as hyped as James Blake did leading up to his debut album though, I can't help but give the ol' side-eye in response. The likes of Pitchfork and TinyMixTapes are praising him as their latest second coming, you say? Must be some insufferable indie-twat doing music outside conventional lanes, thinks I. Naturally, that's an entirely douche-nozzle position to take, but after so much indie-rag hype leading me to mediocre music, you can understand knee-jerk reactions to their recommendations.

Having now taken in James Blake from James Blake, I can honestly say: really? This is what all the hullabaloo was about? For sure, it's a perfectly pleasant little soul album, with a few contemporary UK garage tricks giving it additional flair and personality. And man, does Blake ever know how to maximize sonic space, his tracks remarkably sparse and empty, letting his voice linger not just with the delay and echo effects on his vocals, but even in the nothingness between another piano chord or bass throb. I've always felt the best soul casts the singer isolated and laid bare, with little distraction impeding what should be an intimate dialog between artist and listener. Obviously that doesn't always happen – Hell, at the pop level, soul can't help but get caught up in theatrics just like everyone else (do I really need to hear five octaves to know how much you feel that agonizing emotion?). Blake though, he shows welcome restraint in such gimmickry, things like multi-tracking his voice or digitally manipulating it into different octaves serving the needs of a particular song and nothing more.

So as an understated, honest little soul album, I did like James Blake, but still don't understand where all the hype comes from. Check that: I do understand where all the hype came from, especially from the indie-rags. They adored it because it's an understated, honest little soul album, when it wasn't supposed to be an understated, honest little soul album. James Blake was anticipated to be a saviour for a dubstep scene having succumbed to all that was bro, bringing class, cleverness, and prestige back to a once-hot underground movement. He was supposed to do that within dubstep's parameters though (or post-dubstep, or future garage, or etc.), and he didn't do that here. Yeah, there's some sub-rattling bass frequencies in tracks like Limit To Your Love, and twisted garage-soul in I Mind, but those are exceptions to the general style James indulges in here.

And honestly, his soul doesn't sound much different from stuff on Dusted's album, though as released via Hyperdub. And that's fine – I likes me some Brit soul every now and then – but in subverting everyone's expectations, yeah, small wonder indie folks tripped over themselves showering the hyperbolic praise.

Cygna - Opus Ena

iT Records/Ultimae Records: 2011/2014

I thought to myself, here's another digital-only item from Ultimae Records, a part of their push to expand into that market along the likes of Lars Leonhard and all those Nuit Hypnotique #4 releases. I may as well round out that part of my Ultimae collection with this single, thought I, since I'm splurging a little, Opus Ena truly sporting one of the most eye-catching pieces of cover art the label's ever offered – such a lush, deep blue.

It was honestly only after I played it back that I realized this Cygna release was, in fact, of album length, not an EP like those Leonhard releases. Which was fine – more music to enjoy and all – but found it strange that Ultimae would release an LP as a digital-only item. Then I recently discovered that Opus Ena had, in fact, already been released on CD a few years prior on ultra-obscure Greek label iT Records, and that this Ultimae version was a reissue. Oh man, that directly flies in the face of my “don't buy digital if CD is available” mantra, but how was I to know? Save the odd Ultimae compilation track, I'd never heard of Cygna before, so had no hope of stumbling across Opus ένα (Symphonic Ambient Works) without a deep Discoggian dive. I don't feel tricked or anything, but man, I've a rep' to maintain here. It's not my fault! It's not my fault...

Cygna is Mario Sammut, and was part of that Grecian talent raid Ultimae did that included such names like MikTek and Ambientium. Cygna first appeared with Aes Dana's label on the final Fahrenheit Project compilation, and popped up here and there along the way. Lord Discogs doesn't have much other material from him however, and though his Flash website features an exhaustively detailed biography, there hasn't been any updates for a few years now, much less anything uploaded to his Soundcloud. It would seem Mr. Sammut has put Cygna on hiatus, though watch him put out another album within the next few months, effectively making my statement instantly dated. Happens a lot.

Given Ultimae's general move towards minimalist, dubby downtempo and techno in this period, Opus Ena is quite an outlier, sounding more like the label's earlier forays into widescreen downtempo and world beat. Mario likes his traditional classical instruments, see, showing little fear throwing in acoustic guitars, woodwinds, chants, orchestral strings, ethnic drumming, the works. Reminds me quite a bit of Asura whenever he got his Hollywood Historical Epic score on, though Cygna goes for a more mysterious vibe compared to Asura's opulence in such compositions.

The seven tracks are densely packed with instrumentation, with each featuring something unique in the lead. Caucasus is rhythm heavy, while Euclidean Subspace let the synths take charge. Ada is mostly on that guitar 'n strings stylee, while Oubliée Et Perdue goes minimalist with pianos and string drones. Ah, there had to be something jiving with the nu-Ultimae in this album.