Arctic Hospital - Going Sun

Lantern: 2012

Bought with the same bundle as that ultra-obscure early '90s techno compilation, in case you care. I bring it up as proof-positive that, even if the old standard of rummaging music shops becomes a bygone activity talked about in reverent tones along with our sensible fashions of the time, we'll always have the Discogs Marketplace. Unless it closes down. Or shipping fees becomes so stupidly expensive, we'll have to resort to a bay of buccaneers forever after. Eh, streaming options? Oh, you never know when that bubble will burst (and it will too).

Anyhow, the point I'm getting at is Arctic Hospital is another artist I likely wouldn't have have found any other way than a trawl of Discoggian saleable items. It's over a decade since Eric Bray was seriously active with the alias, or any other project for that matter (so sayeth Lord Discogs). If there was ever any hype behind him, it's far in the rear view by now. Given the scant number of individuals claiming to have a copy of this CD, I can't imagine there ever was. His Soundcloud is sporadically updated, but it's clear Mr. Bray's prime music making days are long behind.

Which is a shame because, dang, if this artist wasn't a sweet, unexpected find. I'll go into his other stuff at a later date, but this was the one that drew me in. Yeah, cool cover and all, but when I listened to a couple tracks, my instant thought was: “Hey, this sounds like The Field. Boy, it's sure been a spell since I last heard anyone try sounding like The Field. Kinda' makes me fond for that brief period of electronic music when a ton of people were trying to sound like The Field. Those endlessly loopy, dubby, shoegazey techno loops... good times.”

Seriously though, that's about the easiest review I can give Going Sun: if you like The Field, you'll like this. Not that Eric doesn't throw his own little spins on the formula. The titular cut has fun with screwing with time-signatures, such that the loops almost trip over themselves just when you expect things to lock in with spectrum-pleasing repetitiveness. Except even that soon settles in its own way. Friend Amplifier twists around piano house loops, Colorstream inches closer to the realm of whatever neo-trance was supposed to be (shoegaze prog?), and The Folding Tree gets joyous and full of soul as vocals are heavily filtered through so many layers of dub. Only dud I can find on this album is the closer Natural Parade, if only because Eric's tinkering with time signatures and drum loops actually do trip over themselves whenever there's a transition. Interesting as a sonic experiment, but after following the deliciously smooth, loopy music that came before, more of a stumble taking us out.

One miss out of six ain't bad though (yes, these are long tracks too). Considering I'd never heard of Arctic Hospital before this chance encounter, I'd call that a win!

Lucette Bourdin - A View From Afar

Dark Duck Records/Fantasy Enhancing: 2012/2021

Thusly, we reach the end of Retrospective Box Set (2005 – 2017). Well, not quite the literal end, the remix album Glimpses Volume 1 the official last numerical CD of this twenty CD collection. Chronologically though, A View From Afar is darn close to the last item within Lucette's actual discography, this and Breath Of Grace released less than a month apart. And since it was released after her passing the year before, these pieces may very well have been the last she crafted before her battle with breast cancer was lost.

But nay, A View From Afar is the final album in alphabetical order (ignore those articles!), and as such, the final album in my twenty-month coverage of this box set. Holy cow, what a journey its been! Well, okay, maybe not, but it is weird to think I've been at this for nearly two years now. There's been flurries of activity (the Nordic Waves series), there's been relative droughts (the gap between Drum-atic Atmospheres and The Mystery Of The Midnight Sun), but by and large, we've progressed through this collection at about an album per month. Have we gained greater insight into one of ambient music's more unsung composers? Or simply plugged along thanks to OCD inertia? Who's to say, but I'd like to think I've come away from this journey hearing more quality music than not.

And how does this final outing with Ms. Bourdin stack up to the rest of her catalogue? 'Tis a'ight, touching closer to her New Age and modern classical side of things compared to her other ambient drone compositions. A tidy six tracker, three pieces breaching the fifteen minute mark, the others hovering around nine-minutes in length. Opener Rising Into Bliss has some mild synth rhythms pattering about in the background before settling into swaying synth pads. Procession Of The Lesser Lights opens with light percussion as well, but is quickly jettisoned for more standard synth noodling. Dream Dancing goes quite ethereal and gentle, while Cascading Waves is bright and shimmery, almost like listening to music glistening off crystals within a waterfall cavern. Rêverie is more moody, while the titular closer is more minimalist. Again, all relatively middle of the road when stacked against the other nineteen albums I've listened to.

Sadly, not a rousing, climatic finale of my coverage of Retrospective Box Set (2005 – 2017), but so it goes. Part of me feels like I should do some sort of Album Ranking, but is that really fair? It's not like I've covered every album Lucette put out, indeed the bulk of her Earth Mantra material still out there in the internet-ether. Maybe if they're consolidated into an additional collection, I'll get to those, but for now, I'm well sated on Ms. Bourdin. I'll definitely return to albums like Rising Fog and Silver Moon and Oceanic Space and Ancient Memories, with the occasional spin of the others down the line. It's been a heck of a trip, yo'.

Lucette Bourdin - Nordic Waves Vol. 4: Autumn

Dark Duck Records/Fantasy Enhancing: 2012/2021

Seriously now, is there any season more pointless to The North than autumn? Yeah, I get that not all of the Nordic regions are True North, the good ol' Atlantic Gulf Stream providing temperate climates to latitudes not typically suited for it. But indulge me here a moment (as if you're not already doing so by reading my thoughts about music on a blog): what do you typically think of when it comes to fall?

The cooling temperatures, the changing colour of leaves, the shedding of said leaves, the harvesting of fruits and vegetables before the big freeze, and all that, right? None of which is applicable to tundra, and barely so even in taiga! Like, that temperature change is pretty abrupt, going from summer to winter almost in an instant. And those mosses and lichens sure ain't gonna' do anything fancy in the back end of the calendar year, no sir, much less in need of harvesting. Migratory animals are about the only thing I can think of associating autumn with The North.

Not that Lucette was unable to conjure up some music feeding off traditional imagery of fall in temperate clime's. I just think it would have made for an interesting, and even hilarious, bit of thematic consistency to make Nordic Waves Vol. 4: Autumn basically an EP. Y'know, a short excursion for a season that doesn't have much impact in the region as we know it. Heck, maybe even do the same for Vol. 2: Spring. And while we're at it, make Vol. 1: Winter a double-LP! Vol. 2: Summer can stay a standard album length though. We don't need anymore non-setting sunlight than we already have around the Arctic Circle.

Actually, I need to backtrack that a bit. After listening through Nordic Waves Vol. 4: Autumn, I'm not so sure Lucette was able to find much inspiration from the Phantom Season. Yeah, there's titles like Caramel-Colored Trees, The Smell Of Fallen Leaves, and First Frost, but I don't get the same sense of sonic imagery with the music on hand as with the previous volumes. Don't get me wrong, this is still a very lovely collection of moody, atmospheric ambient drone, but I feel like these pieces could have almost anything associated with them and sound just as fine. Heck, maybe even go the extra, classic-ambient step of pure abstraction, no need for a season's themes.

Take Shower Of Stars, a piece of shimmering synths and gliding pads. Beautiful, yes. Invoking autumn, not really. Or Pale Sun, as moody an ambient composition as we've yet heard in this series, but again, no feelings of fall coming to mind with it.

It's a funny one, this final entrant in Ms. Bourdin's Nordic Waves series. Musically, I actually kinda' like it the most, even if it almost have nothing to do with the season it's supposed to be inspired by. Maybe it needed to go spookier, tap into that Halloween vibe. Can't think about autumn without that day.

Lucette Bourdin - Nordic Waves Vol. 3: Summer

Dark Duck Records/Fantasy Enhancing: 2012/2021

Isn't it funny how when we think of Nordic clime's, we never think about the summer months? Heck, any Far North region for that matter. Our perpetual image of the world above the 60th Parallel is always one of ice and cold, and fair enough, it's that even when the sun hangs over the sky for over twenty hours a day (note: may no longer be valid in the near future from whence this was written).

But in terms of inspiration, it's the frigid winter months that get the most nods. Whether the melancholic reflection one does when wanting to hibernate, or challenging one's sense of self against inhospitable dark ambient tundra desolation, it's the long dark that gets the most rep'. Heck, even Ms. Bourdin wasn't immune to it, kicking off her Nordic Waves series with Winter. Summer, for all intents, gets the shaft in this regard, despite 'lasting' just as long as winter.

And well it should, as summer that far north actually kinda' sucks. Maybe not as much in Nordic regions, since they do benefit from some good propah' summer weather thanks to the Atlantic Gulf Stream, but that eternal sunshine, man. Just... never going away. It sets, but it's still light out, twilight lingering well past midnight. How can one get a good, recharging sleep when the sun wont set? Yeah, the winter may be bitter cold and dark, but at least you can sleep it off, recoup for another day. Folks have known to go crazy over summer insomnia, yo'!

Let's not dwell on that (for now...). Instead, Lucette opens Nordic Waves Vol. 3: Summer with Reindeer Frolic, a relatively light, airy piece of classical ambient with dancing electronics and glistening synth tones. It honestly feels more... wintery? Sorry, I just have a hard time picturing reindeer under a hot summer sun. Follow-up Midsummer Bonfire does a little dance with its shimmery, pulsing synths, which I suppose captures the essence of flickering flames nicely, but I dunno'. Ms. Bourdin's typical choice of synths have long had something of a cool, icy sheen to them, and that doesn't change much here either. I'm just not feeling Summer out of these tracks. Even Undulating Grasses, another fine pieces of 'dancing ambient', has me thinking springtime awakening over anything hot and humid.

As I said though, the idea of 'summer' in the far north has always been a little skewy, and perhaps that's the vibe Lucette felt as well. Light Waves, Twilight, and especially Heat Stroke mostly do the contemplative ambient drone tone thing, the latter of which stretching for nearly a dozen minutes in length. Even The Engine Of Nature, comparatively light-hearted with some piano, guitar, and percussion action, can't help but contain an ominous synth drone in support. It's almost as if Lucette can't wait for summer to be done. And as if to sell that perspective, final track August Buzz sounding positively uplifting and hopeful in its ambient tones. Yay, the season's almost done!

Lucette Bourdin - Nordic Waves Vol. 2: Spring

Dark Duck Records/Fantasy Enhancing: 2012/2021

Anyone else feel weird about seeing spring sitting at the second position of a seasonal series? I get why it's Vol. 2 of Ms. Bourdin's Nordic Waves run of albums, what with the whole thing kicking off on Winter and all. Spring had to follow, because spring always follows winter. Okay, maybe not on a planet like Venus, where its rotation is in reverse, so I guess winter would follow spring there. That's not a good example though, Venus' whole seasonal deal about as messed up as any planet can get – even the rolling ice giant Uranus has regular seasons, extreme though they may be.

Anyhow, what I'm getting at is we just assume spring would be the kick-off for any conceptual seasonal series, because of astrology or something. I find it rather nifty and, dare I say, daring, for Lucette to buck convention like this and shuffle spring over onto Vol. 2 of Nordic Waves. Take that, attention hog Aries!

Vol. 1: Winter ended on something of an upbeat tick, the subtly percolating synths of The One Hundredth Name Of Snow hinting at a world stirring from hibernation. Well, Vol. 2: Spring doesn't waste time in letting you know life is back to its busy, shining self, opener Return Of The Snow Goose all bright, shining synths harking more to the realms of modern classical synth composers than the usual Lucette ambient fare. Oh, and honking geese fly above on occasion, because that's just what I needed: reminders of the Canadian Cobra Chicken. I thought this was relaxing music!

You know what else spring is known for? Showers! ...or unrelenting rain, if you're in coastal regions like Norway and British Columbia. Nice of Ms. Bourdin to craft a track titled as such, though this one is a bit melancholic with its use of violin. Compared to the general moodiness of follow-up Anvil-Head Cloud, however, Unrelenting Rain is downright chipper. And speaking of geography shared by the Nordic regions and the Pacific Northwest, here's the gentle ambience and mysterious tones of Fjords, followed upon by more tranquility and subtle rhythms of Where The Forest Meets The Shoreline. We certain this hasn't turned into a Silent Season outing now?

That's all well and good if you're down for the fjord-pjorn (*cough*), but how about some propah' spring-time sonics? Lucette does spend some tracks bringing us from the ebb of March into the dawn of April, A Month-Long Sunrise doing that ambient drone thing of tones ever morphing into brighter timbre. Crossing The Equinox, meanwhile, gets more on that classic synth vibe, with rhythmic pulses and even pitch shifts. And what spring season is complete without the flooding of alpine meltwater, as captured by White Water – Calm Water, as peppy a tune as we've yet heard out of these Nordic Waves sessions? Not sure how The March Of The Trolls fits in with everything though. Probably Norwegian folklore, such critters forced into retreat from the increased sunlight, lest they turn to stone?

Lucette Bourdin - Breath Of Grace

Dark Duck Records/Fantasy Enhancing: 2012

Back to Bourdin, then. Huh, took a little longer than I thought it would. Like, a box-set with twenty CDs in it is gonna' take up hefty chunks of my alphabetical queue no matter where they're slotted, but I suppose it shows just how large the queue currently is regardless. Dealing with another box-set between Ancient Memories and this probably didn't help with the gap.

Breath Of Grace has the distinction of being the final album of Lucette's work, released well over a year after her passing. There's actually a number of such albums, including A View From Afar and the four-LP Nordic Waves set - yes, they're all accounted for in this box-set. While it's not surprising that she'd have some music in the vaults, I do wonder what the process in releasing the posthumous albums was. Were they already in the works, and just never got to see a proper release before passing on? Did someone within her estate cobble together assorted unreleased tracks on her behalf? I suppose it doesn't matter in the long run, but whenever we're dealing with ambient music of this sort, it's nice to have some inspirational frame of reference going in. Perhaps one need not delve too deeply into such concerns, but it cannot be denied her experiences offered a unique perspective on reflective music, tragic though it may be.

If there is a theme to Breath Of Grace, it's that of entering a calming state of mind. While opener Turbulent Seas maintains a typically droning style of ambient tone, it's far from a relaxing sort. Almost ominous with heavy, spacious synth swells, impossibly distant sounds echoing from the furthest reaches of one's memories. Always those nagging reflective moments, when gazing upon foggy coastlines through cottage windows.

Waters Of Life goes more minimalist, synth drone supporting burbly, dubby field recordings, letting you feel more lost in the moment rather than trapped in memory. Following that, the titular track is pure synth pad drone, layered to such a degree the timbre is rather muddy. Can't help but keep thinking of fog while listening to this. But hey, things seem to pick up a little with Quiet Cats, a lighter tone and brighter synths emerging from the haze. From there, tracks like Finding Peace and Setting Sun only grow brighter, the former even dipping rather close to the realm of New Age with its shimmering angel bells. The relatively short closer Remembering thus feels more like a coda to Breath Of Grace, having settled into some sense of tranquility despite whatever was troubling the self at the start. And hey, a little light Arabian synth noodling in the middle of it too.

I almost feel like I'm overselling this album, with such a expansive write-up of what goes on. Eh, gotta' burn word-count some way, but as far as ambient albums go, Breath Of Grace is a nice little offering of such. Will the rest of Lucette's works compare? Stay tuned...

Barker & Baumecker - Transsektoral

Ostgut Ton: 2012

I think I've become a low-key admirer of Ostgut Ton. I never intended as such, always turned-off by the massive amounts of hype for Ben Klock, Len Faki, Shed, Steffi, and Dettmann. I didn't dislike them, but y'all needn't be so insistent on saying I must love them. Let me explore this label on my own terms, discovering acts that catch my eyes and ears. Your Nick Höppners, your L.B. Dub Corps, and your Tobias.es. Okay, maybe not so much that last one at the time, but he seems a bit forgotten now.

Anyhow, my continued sleuthing for the 'unheralded Ostgut acts' has led me to Barker & Baumecker. Are they a duo that somehow slipped by the radar, a partnership that never got its just due? The sort of techno only real heads are aware of, or something? Look, I won't front, I only stumbled upon Transsektoral because of the nifty cover-art, and 'trans' being in the title. Gosh, maybe some trance-leaning techno, then? I've heard a few flirtations with the genre out of Ostgut Ton, even as early as 2012, and with having heard so little from Misters Barker and Baumecker abroad, this could end up one of those undiscovered gems in need of a resuscitation nearly a decade on (holy cow!).

After a tidy intro of dub techno ambience, Trafo gives us the sort of vibes we're in for on this record. That vintage Ostgut Ton warehouse thump, moody backing melodies, and odd-ball experimental sounds spicing the percussion up. It can get a bit distracting from the solid techno shuffle going on, but eh, gotta' do something to stand out from the pack. Schlang Bang strips things down to a bare-bones tech-house outing with a woozy-wobbly bassline that I'm sure is perfect for your ketamine daze, but is just bemusing here.

Then, Crows. Ugh. I get what B&B are doing with that obnoxious noise, gradually morphing it into a rather lovely bit of dubbed-out orchestral pads, and the cavernous beats would make it for a fun stomping anthem. Just... gads, that noise is the absolute worst, insisting upon its 'cleverness' for far too long. Thank God the rest of Transsektoral isn't like this. In fact, the album's quite good for the duration!

No Body gets in on some of that post-dubstep action Ostgut Ton liked to dabble in, while Buttcracker and Silo go straight for the hard-ass Detroit minimal stomp. And wouldn't you know it, we even get a little trance in Trans-It, what with subtle floating arps and escalating pad work. Yeah, it's riding along your standard techno rhythm, including some real low-end thumps along the way, but d'ats classic trance, man! Or neo-trance, if you must (I've seen Lord Discogs has caught on). Closer Spur goes trancey too, but more in that morning-after, dawn's light in the eyes after being inside a grimey dancehall all night, chill-out kind of way. About as Orbital as any Ostgut Ton act can get, I guess.

The Oak Ridge Boys - Back Home Again: Gospel Favorites

Gaither Music Group: 2012

There's been ripples in the timestream, by g'ar, of the word 'gospel' suddenly trending upon the prominent waves of tachyon particles even in my far future corner of the Fourth Dimension. Even from my vantage point in the year 2073, we feel it, as though something detonated in the past, causing an ever-lasting effect upon our culture, wherein 'gospel' was no longer regarded as a niche enjoyment by those of us within the comforting embrace of the Atomic Brotherhood. For some oddity, however, those residing within the domain of the Muricans haven't noticed it, or are actively ignoring it in all forms of denialism. Word goes should you inquiry them about this time-flux event, they enter a near catatonic state, uttering “Not my Ye'. Not my Ye'. Not my Ye'” Strange indeed.

Ani-hooteny, seems as fine-dandy an opportunity to bull my wax about The Oak Ridge Boys again, specifically their gospel output. Everything else'in that I've touched upon with those recordings came from their ancient catalogue, before the lads switched their sound to some fun stompin' country shindiggin's. Even after they turned international stars with half the roster changed, CD labels would recycle them original songs with original members for quick cash-ins. Th'ar be Joe Bonsall and his moustache on the cover, but sure-in that's Little Willie Wynn singing the soprano inside. After a time though, and their commercial clout receding like everyone's hairline after 2053, the Boys left the days of secular country jingles behind, singing some proper ol' good Christian music again. After another time, they'd flit between the two, even meshing 'em altogether-like.

That's about where we find the Boys with Back Home Again: Gospel Favorites. These aren't the staid-old ditties of olden-times, but up 'an jumpin' fun-time country jiggy-downs with Christian themes. For sure-in we all know the tale of Exodus, but have you heard it as a three-minute, spring-steppin hoe-humdinger as performed here in Led Out Of Bondage? I reckon not, if you've never heard Christian country before.

Mighty strangely though, I can't help but long for the older, pure gospel sorties The Oak Ridge Boys performed over these then-modern produced songs. There, the vocal harmonies were dominant, with the barest of organ, piano, or guitar in support. You could feel the humbling power of reverberating church halls in their voices, especially when given the best remastering process technology could afford (earnestly, the quality of Hymns & Songs, Volume II remains unmatched).

These recordings are almost too slick for their own good, with supporting musicians all up in your ears. Not to take away from the skills of Ben Isaacs (upright bass), Gordon Mote (piano), John Jarvis (piano), Steve Brewster (drums), Aubrey Haynie (fiddle & mandolin), Bryan Sutton (acoustic guitar), Kenny Greenberg (electric guitar), Kevin Williams (acoustic guitar), Jimmy Capps (acoustic guitar), and Ban-Joey (banjo), but the infamous Nashville Machine does have a tendency to strip the soul out of music. Mighty highly ironic, given the context of the music that's being performed.

Autumn Of Communion - Autumn Of Communion

Fax +49-69/450464: 2012

I mentioned a few reviews back that I lucked out on a Discoggian source that had a mountain of Fax+ material, and this was what led me to it. Yes, in my never-ending hope that an affordable copy of Autumn Of Communion's debut album would eventually appear there, it finally happened! And not only that, but the seller had more, oh so much more! Was so tempted to crack open an RRSP for a ridiculous splurge, believe you me. What I got will suffice for now though. No need to be greedy with all these limited-run items, is there?

Of course, another reason I'm thankful/dumbfounded for the luck in finding this is that it assuages that lingering FOMO feeling in skipping out on the Autumn Of Communion box-set. I felt it a tad redundant picking that up when I already had some of the albums first-run, but who knew if any of their older works would make it to hard-copy at reasonable prices again, especially this. Not only is it the debut album from this long-lasting partnership between Lee Norris and Mick Chillage, but it's the final item released from Fax +49-69/450464, before Pete Namlook's passing forced the label to shutter doors. You'd think this would make Autumn Of Communion one of the biggest collector's items on the second-hand marketplace. Then again, the Fax+ community never was that big compared to some of the other cult-like followers of famous record labels. And it's not like they're gaining new members anymore. It's all about that Carpe Sonum hit nowadays.

Anyhow, what's most important is that I finally get to hear the germination of this surprisingly durable pairing between Misters Norris and Gainford, one I have to wonder if even they thought would go this long. Like, I'm sure they felt some synergy from whatever situation brought them together (crossing paths at a show? Sharing war stories of former labels? Chance paired seating on a flight across the the Atlantic Ocean?), but even they couldn't have thought they'd be over twenty albums deep from these humble beginnings. Because these are some humble beginnings indeed.

Honestly, this could have gone one of two ways: an immaculate debut that could never have been replicated again, or a feeling-out process, with later works bringing their collaborative ideas to better fruition. Given the amount of music that has emerged under the Autumn Of Communion banner since, it's safe to say we're in the latter territory with this album. Even for Lee and Mick, this is one super mellow CD, with long, gentle passages of subdued synths and repeating melodies. Aside from End (Sunrise For Claudio), there's barely any rhythm, and what does come about is the most minimalist of minute beatcraft.

For sure there are some gorgeous moments on Autumn Of Communion, including the titular track, but I doubt I'd say anything shocking in pointing to the duo's future works as even better than what's offered here. Still, absolutely worth the monies I paid for it!

The Winterhouse - Winter Gardens

dataObscura: 2012

I assume my fascination with winter's clime' stems from the fact I live in a region that doesn't experience winter in the 'traditional' sense. Sure, we get snow once or thrice a season, but to be perpetually blanketed in a white layer of quieting frozen water is incredibly rare. Thus, when constantly bombarded with romantic imagery of such seasonal situations, it makes one fonder for that which we need not deal with. Maybe I need to go snow-shoeing around the local ski hills to get it out of my system.

When ambient music tackles wintery aesthetics, it's often as bleak and desolate drone. Sometimes we'll get shimmery, crystalline moments, but as brief respites of glistening beauty among the suffocating, icy gloom. It's uncommon finding albums that explore frigid environments as someplace mysterious and magical; a 'wonderland', if you may. Or there's a huge sub-sub genre-market for it out there, and I'm wandering the wrong wastelands. The artists are probably all Japanese too.

Anyhow, this is a roundabout way of me justifying my purchase of Winter Gardens from The Winterhouse. Something evocative about that cover art, y'know, luring me in into a tranquil, hibernating forest, exploring nooks and crannies sheltering small, sleeping mammals. As I say, perfect settings to indulge a little snow-shoeing, but a suitable soundtrack for such an endeavor?

The Winterhouse is a collaborative project from Anthony Kerby and Robert Davies. The former I've talked up plenty now, since diving into dataObscura meant diving into a lot of his musical output. Mr. Davies I haven't touched upon yet, though his story isn't much different from Mr. Kerby's: some two dozen albums, mostly all released on dataObscura as well, with Winterhouse being his lone outside project. So, does that make him the Solar Fields to Kerby's Aes Dana, with Winterhouse being dataObscura's H.U.V.A. Project? Doubtful, but it's a fun notion nonetheless.

While I wasn't expecting some cheery, chipper, New Age outing with Winter Gardens, I was expecting a little less of the pure drone that I've heard from dataObscura thus far. 'Tis not to be, this one just as layered and minimalist as most of the music I've heard from Kerby and co'. Which isn't such a bad thing if I'm in the mood for moody pad work and sparse melodic movements. I dunno' tho', seeing so much stark white in the cover had me thinking Winter Gardens would be a bit... brighter. Silly me, overlooking the greyscale forest from the shadowy trees.

Winter Hymn does provide a pleasant, tranquil opener, but the foreboding tones of dark ambient are quick to make their presence felt in follow-up The Depths Of Winter. The murky mood mostly permeates the rest of the album, with We Walk Through Glass offering some of those shimmering, glistening sounds I alluded to albums of this nature so often containing. Feel Winter Gardens could have used more moments like that. Isn't a garden supposed to highlight the beauty of nature, not the suppression of it?

Anduin - Stolen Years

SMTG Limited: 2012

When I saw this in an online shop, I knew I had to get it sight-unheard. That cardboard border, the artful picture, the unrecognizable musician with post-rock ties... it must be a new Slaapwel Records release! Never mind the label's only released one (1) new item in the two years I first discovered them.

But nay, 'tis not an unearthed Slaapwel Records album. That there's a whopping eight tracks is proof alone, much less the fact they all average around four to six minutes in length. It is an interesting item I've stumbled upon though, and once again I have nothing but my over-eager, hunter-gatherer purchasing instinct to thank for it. Seldom have I been led astray by such impulsive actions, and it was nice of Anduin to keep the faith alive a little longer.

Not to be confused with the Matthew Dear project Audion – because I know your brain has been doing that from the moment you saw the header – Anduin is the brainchild of Jonathan Lee, a chap who's floated about various rock bands these past couple decades. Some were punk, some were post, and some were whatever eclectic ideas were flowing freely in a given jam session. This naturally led Mr. Lee to explore the instrumental, abstract side of his muse, giving rise to Anduin, a project that lasted about half a decade, seemingly mothballed since 2015. Stolen Years was the last full-length record released under the guise.

With absolutely no idea of what to expect going in, I wasn't even sure I'd ended up with a 'music' record as Behind The Voyeur's Wall Of Glass started. So quiet, so subdued, and are those sounds of children playing coming from the track, or the park across from my apartment? Also, someone get WD-40 on that squeaky door stat, why don't ya'? A moody synth tone burbles in and out, a kick that sounds like someone bouncing a basketball emerges, and a lonely saxophone jam adds a creaky blues vibe. It's all rather bleak, but in a melancholic sort of way, like reflecting on one's decrepit life from the confines of a weathered, abandoned flat.

Much of Stolen Years plays out like that: prominent looping field recordings placing you within a vivid setting (so much dirt and grit), sinewy synth pads crafting lonesome moods and tones, and collaborator Jimmy Graphery providing saxophone or flute solos adding human soul to the proceedings. Only final track Irene breaks the mould, shooting for an opulent wall-of-sound ambient outing for closure.

What I find so interesting about Stolen Years is despite the rather simple elements in play, it's extremely difficult pinpointing exactly what kind of music this is. The closest comparison I can come up with is the dark ambient jazz of Phonothek, but not so oppressive and bleak as that duo goes. Stolen Years feels much too intimate to be dark ambient, yet not so lost up its rectum to be jazz. A curious, addictive one, this.

Daniel Pemberton - Space Dive

fsoldigital.com: 2012

I should have expected this, but for some reason, upon seeing the cover art, an alternate version of Space Dive lodged itself into my brain, leading me to believe that was what I was gonna' hear. One of pure conceptual space-age ambient noodling, like AstroPilot's Solar Walk series, filled with actual radio chatter samples between Felix Baumgartner and Red Bull ground control. That it came out on The Future Sound Of London's digital label, the last place I'd expect to find a National Geographic documentary soundtrack, is my only excuse for coming to such a premature conclusion. How did this end up on fsoldigital anyhow?

Easy answer, that. Daniel Pemberton often works with Brian Dougans and Garry Cobain, especially contributing to their Environments series. I'm not sure how far back their collaborations officially goes – at least The Isness - but it's possible Daniel was hanging around the FSOL boys since even the Dead Cities period. Thus, it makes sense they'd let him use their label for releases slightly outside traditional chains. Oh, and Pemberton made his (teenaged!) debut on Fax +49-69/450464, which means that, yes, he too was included in the inimitable, ineluctable Die Welt Ist Klang Pete Namlook tribute box-set. Just throwing that out there.

But yes, Daniel's career arc this century has primarily been in the realm of score work, starting out doing TV spots and documentaries before getting the nod for major movies. What movies, you ask? Oh, just a little critical darling called Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse, to name one. Also, um, King Arthur: Legend Of The Sword. Still, a resume that includes Steve Jobs and Ocean's 8 ain't too shabby. Dude knows his way around providing audio stimuli for visual entertainment, is what I'm saying.

And I can only assume his work for Space Dive is exemplary of a one hour documentary covering Felix's freefall from the outer reaches of our atmosphere because, um, I haven't seen it. I tried to find it, but it's not on Amazon Prime (.ca), not on YouTube, and I don't really care enough about it to drop paywall money to see it (sorry, Nat Geo). I'm sure it's like most modern documentaries anyway: a lot of dawdling and faux-tension building leading up to the main event, presented after seven commercial breaks. I remember the live stream just fine, thanks.

Musically, Space Dive sounds like most modern documentary scores as well, with the subdued orchestras and pounding percussion sections (he's Going Supersonic, yo'!), light synth touches, and such as. Little of it leaps out as distinct pieces of music, which is exactly what you should want in a soundtrack like this. I can say, despite having no visual accompaniment, a few pieces do a good job of making me feel connected to the emotions Felix must have been going through (Freefall, To The Edge Of Space, The Jump). I still can't recommend Space Dive for anyone other than Daniel Pemberton completists though. Surely there's a few out there.

Ink Midget - Re-Leave

Exitab: 2012

There's some downright obscure shit out there, my poor Windows Media Player helpless in its attempts at auto-identifying whatever music it's currently decoding and digitizing to my external hard drive. Not a big deal, thinks I while sipping on pinot noir (or a Monster Sunrise). Just slot the CD in its appropriate alphabetical place within my “to review” tower, and I'll deal with the details when I get to it.

Only, I was left stumped on this Ink Midget. I knew it had to be part of my regular queue, as I'd uploaded it to my portable player at some point, but I didn't see it among the surrounding CDs. Might it have been a digital-only item? No, those at least have cover art. Well, whatever, I'm sure once I listen to it, I'll solve its mysterious origin. Wait, this is a dubstep release? How did I end up with this? Did someone hand it to me after Shambhala? Wouldn't be the first time I was given a promo from that festival.

As always though, Lord Discogs finally shed some light on the matter, at the very least providing me art I could identify it with. And upon seeing that Re-Leave art, I went, “OOHH-ooohh... it's that CD. Huh, I thought it was an indie rock thing.” Admit it, just from a glance, you'd never guess this is dubstep, to say nothing of the four-page foldout with even more water-coloured art within. Plus, it's a big, bulky digipak, the sort of thing I've come to expect from... well, not dubstep, that's for sure. Explains why it wasn't in my usual “to review” tower though, not fitting in the slots and all.

*whew* Alright, all that out and sorted, how does this album from Ink Midget stack up. It's... fine, I guess? Adam Matej certainly tries infusing the genre with some ideas against the tropes of the time, but adding a pile of glitch stutter effects to one's half-time beats feels overkill. He's clearly listened to a bunch of Hyperdub material, and wants to make music like that, but overshot the mark on the production level. There's a dub-trap cut in Night Float that's fascinated by the pitch of the snare's reverb. There's the clear nods to Burial ambience in Flue and Clue (heh). There's some “we're getting ultra-wrecked, man!” grime rapping in Fisheye (though Pjoni's Slovak). There's a dope double-time builder in Půlvlk, with a secret ambient song after. Hey, that's a novel bit of retro!

I dunno, Re-Leave feels quite middle-of-the-road where this sound is concerned, though I'm hardly an expert in this particular genre, my experience still at a surface level. Maybe folks who digest every tiny ounce of dubstep, future-garage, and UK (Slovak?) bass could give a better comparison of Ink Midget against the scene's grand pantheon. On the other hand, I had to submit the CD version of this to Discogs, so maybe this is rightfully obscure too.

Sleep Research Facility - Stealth

Cold Spring: 2012

Now here's an alias up my alley! I like good sleep, but sometimes I feel I'm not getting the best sleep all the time. What the most efficient hours are, whether going down for huge blocks of time or interspersing it in shorter, nappier chunks is better. Should I keep milking those REM dreams or cut them off once they get too surreal. What I should take before lying down. What I shouldn't take before lying down! Sleep is one of the most natural things every complex organism does on this planet, yet it still remains one of the oddest things we don't fully understand. When did it become practical for a living being to simply shut down its higher functions for a period of time? Was consumable energy really in such scarcity in the primordial Earth that they had no other recourse than to hibernate for a while, preferably when the sunlight wasn't out and about? So strange, and we cannot fight it, no matter how many stimulants we may pump our bodies with. That there are research facilities dedicated to discovering these secrets is a-ok in my books.

All this has precious little to do with the album I'm reviewing today. Far as I can tell, Sleep Research Facility is simply a cool sounding handle Kevin Doherty adopted for making his dark dronescapes. His first album was called Nostromo, which yeah, featured some hibernating space-truckers (and gestating body horrors) but nothing involving researching their sleeping habits. He also has an album called Deep_Friez, something about the encroaching slumber of hypothermia, which I'm sure makes for fascinating study, but kinda' difficult to report your findings once you've turned into an Antarctic Popsicle.

Finally, we have his (thus far) final album, Stealth, which has nothing to do with sleep at all. Or maybe a little, those sleak, black killers of the sky moving as quietly as my computer in hibernation mode. I'm sure the B2 bomber has its own 'sleep mode' during its runs too, making sure its as invisible as possible from any observer. Remarkable feat of engineering, that plane. I'm not surprised folks find some inspiration in its aesthetic and design, even to create music based on it. This album though, has to be a first. Or at least a very unique interpretation.

For you see, Mr. Doherty posited the question: what would it be like as a stealth bomber? No, seriously, that's the vibe I get off this album! Unsurprisingly, this is a very minimalist drone album, almost entirely composed of electronic tweeting, chirping, whirring, and other assorted field recordings, all the while an ever present engine hum envelops you - it's like you're inside the machine, that you are part of the machine. Every so often the monotony is broken up by radio chatter, orders being relayed, information being sorted. I imagine if a B2 bomber had thoughts, Stealth is what its sensory A.I. perceives as reality. Or you're a hapless maintenance guy stuck in the landing gear.

Dynatron - Escape Velocity

Aphasia Records/Blood Music: 2012/2016

Dynatron has been oddly quiet since Blood Music re-issued his two albums. Considering the three year gap between the 2012 release of this one and Aeternus on Aphasia Records saw a few complimentary EPs plus a bundle of compilation works (enough to fill two LPs worth!), that's quite a surprise. Aside from a lone 2016 EP with Blood Music (The Rigel Axiom), there's been nada since. I can understand a little grace period as his new label rolled out all his old material, but for a talent that had a remarkably productive four-year period, I can't imagine why Mr. Hasseriis would lose that momentum full-stop. Maybe the pressure of greater exposure's weighing down on him? Understandable, as a lot of these synthwave dudes are just chaps making a few quirky retro tunes for fun and releasing them on ultra-obscure net-labels, their biggest brush with fame positive comments on YouTube or Soundcloud. While Blood Music is far from being one of the music industry's major driving forces, it has grown into a rather big fish in its small, Scandinavian glacial-melt pond, especially since branching out from its death metal origins. Maybe Dynatron just needed a little me-time in the wake of all that increased attention, hunkering down in the studio for a triple-LP opus of epic space-synth awesomeness. One can hope.

Anyhow, time to dig into his first album, Escape Velocity. Straight-up, I like this one a little more than Aeturnus. Don't get me wrong (I prefer when you get me right), Aeternus was good fun and all, but this record tends to stick in my brain matter better. While I could make excuses for this like “catchier melodies” or “tighter songwriting”, I cannot deny a major reason boils down to cover art. Escape Velocity has everything a retro space-synth fan could hope for. Planets! Wormholes! Vector grids! '80s fonts! Purple! Not to mention individual art for every single track within the inlay! I love it when albums have that. Aeternus was cool and all, but it didn't have all that.

I also don't get as much of a sense of album narrative with Escape Velocity either. Okay, I felt that was a tad lacking with Aeternus too, but only in comparison to Dynatron's synthwave contemporaries on Blood Music (they've set a ridiculously high bar – like, cosmic high). It did have some though, spreading out the uptempo tunes with ambient interludes and reflective downtime. Escape Velocity mostly comes off as a clutch of dope space-synth tunes, though with it's own share of chill interludes too (Vox Magnetismi, Andromeda Bleeding - oh God, stop the sad-pain, please!). Then there's the mid-tempo cruisers (Aurora Nights, The Pulsating Nebula, Pulse Power), the orbit breaking action pieces (Space Operators, Fireburner, Wormhole, and Propulsion Overdrive including a Glorious Guitar for all your air shredding needs). All in all a tidy, fun collection of synthwave with its eyes in the stars rather than the paved streets of Miami. Gotta' love that consistency.

Biosphere - Compilation 1991-2004

Biophon Records: 2012/2017

Now isn't this just a right dandy little item Geir Jenssen's given us. As Biosphere, he released few actual albums throughout his first fifteen years of music making, but each one was a bonafide classic of ambient and frigid techno, making fans squirm and itch for more material. There were collaborations with Pete Namlook (Fires Of Ork) and Higher Intelligence Agency, but if you fancied yourself a true Biosphere completist, you'd have to do some serious sleuthing and digging, many tracks exclusive to compilations littered among his discography. Some of these weren't too hard find – even I could find copies of Trance Europe Express 3 on my local store shelves – but chances are you'd have to come from the hinterlands of Norway to snag yourself a copy of Nova Norvegia – (Get) Into The Arctic Groove. To say nothing of the outright obscurity of a Denmark museum collection in Krydsfelt – Norpol. I imagine even the peer-to-peer juggernauts of old had trouble tracking that one down.

Well fuss no more, Biosphere Completists, for Geir has gathered all his wayward offspring between the years 1991 and 2004 into a tidy 2CD compilation, titled, um, Compilation 1991-2004 - doesn't beat around the lichen moss, does it? Of course, if you really want to fancy yourself a true-proper Biosphere Completist, you'll still hunt down all those CDs these tracks were sprung from. For sensible people though, this will suffice.

Although, having listened through this now, I wonder if Compilation: My First Fifteen Years has any appeal beyond only the most die-hard Biosphere disciples. There's no denying Mr. Jenssen's frigid oeuvre can leave some folks cold (hah!). Yet whether you prefer his bleep techno beginnings, desolate field recordings, or looping drone, few come away from his work without at least thinking, “Hm, that's interesting.” And this double-discer touches base on all these aspects, but if you were coming in here looking for brilliant exclusives that never made an album cut, you've come to the wrong place indeed.

There isn't much from his techno days, opener Hypnophone the lone cut with any sort of beat among these fifteen tracks. The Third Planet and The Seal & The Hydrophone (Geir has a fascination for hydrophones) do the bleep ambient thing that marked his second album. By four tracks in though, we're already in the year 1997, when the minimalist abstraction really started taking hold of the Biosphere muse. Knives In Hens and Superfluid features some of the most experimental samples and drones Geir's ever produced, tediously so. At least the gentle ambience of Bird Watching and Sun-Baked end CD1 on a pleasant note.

CD2 is generally more consistent, as Mr. Jenssen's figured out how to craft his abstraction sampling into compositions with direction and focus, despite sometimes taking forever getting there (such a lonely road in Vi Kan Tenka Digitalt, Vi Kan Tala Digitalt). If you can't mess with ultra-minimalism though, well, you probably haven't bothered with post-Millennium Biosphere anyway.

Rainbow Vector - This Way

Spiritech: 2012

I should have known this when I started this mini-dig of Spiritech's discography – any tiny bit of 'journalistic investigating' would have unearthed it. Hell, if I'd just started with this particular CD instead of succumbing to my alphabetical OCD, I'd have the facts staring right in my face-hole, liner notes explaining things plain as day. But no, I gotta' do things my way (in my time, my ti-i-i-ime!), out of logical, chronological order. Thus, what under normal circumstances should have been the first CD I reviewed from Spiritech's catalogue ends up being the last.

Within the liner notes of This Way, a blurb informs that the players behind Rainbow Vector – Alireza Zaifnejad (BlueBliss, who you may know from Ovnimoon Records and Altar Records) and Albert Borkent (Lingua Lustra himself) – met over Soundcloud, shared some ideas, shared some sounds, and realized they should make them available over the cloud. Or Bandcamp at least, and hey, why not make their efforts the inaugural CD on their new label? What struck me about this knowledge is that Lingua Lustra had already been releasing music through Soundcloud for some time, which would explain why so much of his stuff on Bandcamp is offered as free downloads as well. Makes sense, not requesting monies for music that was already free in the first place. It's not a huge revelation, but does clear up a factoid I didn't know in the first place. Yay discovery!

So Rainbow Vector, the combination of a psy-chill guy and a noodly ambient guy: what could go wrong? A lot, but nothing did in this instance, so that's good. Depending on the track, each producer's style will generally dominates over the other's. For instance, shorter pieces like Nexus, Glass Onion, Aqueous, and Lemniskating go more the psy-chill route, including groovy rhythms complementing the spaced-out synths and pads. It honestly reminds me of early Ultimae, which shouldn't be a surprise since BlueBliss ran in similar circles from that era (oh hai, Altar!).

The other bulk of tracks lean towards Lingua Lustra's lane of lengthy ambient outings. Sometimes they'll do the widescreen layers of sound (Newsflash, Flower Of Life), or a simmering, glitchy drone (Raybow), but mostly stick to the minimalist stuff with dubby field recordings and distant harmonies (Light Circle, Spiral Time). It sounds nice and all, as I'd expect with the players involved, but the track sequencing kind of buggers the album experience.

This Way opens with Newsflash, eleven minutes of loud, provocative sonics, before easing us into the psy-chill stuff for a bit. Then a huge stretch of the album's taken up by the ambient material, music that's fine in of itself but totally derails whatever momentum the earlier tracks provided. It honestly makes getting to the remaining, shorter psy-chill tunes a challenge, a feeling like This Way should have wrapped up well before the end. It's never a good idea putting your longest, calmest tracks smack in the middle of an album. Ah well.

Seaworthy - Sleep Paths

Slaapwel Records: 2012

Ah, hm. Feel like I've gone into a rut here. The whole point of doing this alphabetical sequence is to prevent such things, to keep every subsequent item different from the last. And sure, there's times where runs of similar-sounding albums can't be helped – the 'Trance' month of 2016, for instance – but such instances are generally rare and at least expected when the moment comes. I never intended for so many shortish ambient releases to bunch up like this, and were they in my original regular queue, they'd at least be spaced out a little more. Or maybe not, items like Selected Ambient Works, Slumberland, Signals, and Solar Walk also among these 'S' albums. Maybe there's just something ambient composers are drawn to in this region of the alphabet, a physiological state of being that works well with ambient music. 'Smiling', that must be it.

So we return quite quickly to Slaapwel Records for another outing of single-song, lullaby music. No, seriously, that's what Sleep Paths is, a forty minute composition the 'electro-acoustic post-rock' band Seaworthy wrote as a beddy-bye time soundtrack for guitarist Cameron Webb's newborn child. Forty minutes is too long for such needs though, especially when so very little actually happens in this piece.

From the outset, you hear super-soft electric guitar plucking, gentle whispers of mechanical breathing, all the while droning reverb and delay effects blanket everything in a minimalist melodic haze. And that's it for the entire duration, cottony sounds meandering along without a care in the world, floating along a river of fluffy clouds. It's impossible to pay attention to Sleep Paths without your mind wandering even after a dozen minutes of this, and Seaworthy stretch things out as long as most toddlers are willing to nap for. I can't imagine anyone even playing such music live without nodding off themselves, gazing at their shoes to the point they've doubled over and passed out on their feet. At least Simon Scott's offering for Slaapwel had a sense of progression from start to finish.

Not that I'm saying Sleep Paths is terrible or boring or anything – it do what it supposed to do, and it do it well. It unfortunately leaves me with almost no talking points. Lucky for me, however, there was a Bandcamp bonus with this CD, Sleep Paths II, which has more going on than the original piece.

For one, it runs at a 'brisk' twenty-nine minutes, which makes better sense as a 'falling asleep' composition (if you haven't naturally nodded off after that long, music ain't gonna' help). Two, while the basic acoustic-droning elements remain, there's rhythm here, clinky percussion panning across the channels throughout. Sleep Paths II also changes form after a while, more prominent guitar plucking and layers of static fuzz added towards the end. Seems to defeat the purpose of sleeping music to have your piece grow more dynamic as it progresses, but hey, at least it gives me more to wax words over.

Various - Pure Trance: Solarstone + Orkidea

High Note Records: 2012

Not to be confused with the late '80s Pure Trance series from The KLF, nor the '90s Pure Trance series from Avex Trax, nor the '00s Pure Trance series from Water Music Dance. No, this is the '10s Pure Trance series from Solarstone, hailed as the one true Pure Trance series above all else. Not that I blame the trance brigade for such a proclamation, the trance here definitely of a purer stock than an EMI 100% Pure Trance release a year prior, what with such non-trance entities like Swedish House Mafia, Arty, and Afrojack included.

But yes, at a time when the standard bearers of trance were driving their scene into unwanted territories like Dutch house and brostep, Solarstone's 'back to basics' concept was a relief for the faithful, though not unprecedented, every long-lived scene having some type of 'pure' revitalization within it. Eurotrance goes through its own retro waves every so often, though I was surprised Rich Mowatt ended up the current champion.

Still, all that critical praise for Pure Trance: Solarstone's Kick-Off has kept me intrigued all these years. Like, I knew it wouldn't be a 'proper' return to the sort of trance I prefer, but was it really the bastion of hope I'd heard it to be? Eh, not really. Sure, compared to what passed itself off as trance in the year 2012, Pure Trance must have sounded like a godsend. Melodic leads! Consistent energy! Builds that deliver, and don't fuck around with grating noise and anti-climaxes! A problem still persists though, one I've touched upon regarding the post-Armada/Anjunabeats era of trance: homogeny.

Many of these tracks sound so alike as to render Solarstone's mix one long, energetic, uplifting excursion, but little personality between tunes. Looking at the tracklist, I'm not surprised it comes off like this, names like Rex Mundi, Mark Pledger, Guiseppe Ottaviani, Kyau & Albert, Ronski Speed, and Solarstone himself all having similar styles to one another. There are some nice tracks in here, and most of the naff stuff (vocals, momentum killing breakdowns) is kept to a minimum, but man, is it any wonder that the updated mix of Seven Cities leaps out at you as a finale? Now there's a song with personality!

All that said, most folks claim it's Orkidea's mix on CD2 that's the real highlight of Pure Trance, the whole series included. Lofty hype, but I can buy into it, as this mix has something CD1 doesn't: tracks with personality! Every tune sounds distinct from one another, with room to musically breath among its brethren, thanks in large part to class names like Way Out West, Vibrasphere, Michael Cassette, and Orkidea himself making up this set. Dammit though, why does every track gotta' have an overlong breakdown? Such momentum killers, but if that's the trade-off for having a trance mix where each tune actually stands out from each other, I'll accept it. Makes it the closest thing to an actual 'throwback' eurotrance set we'll hear these days.

Namlook • Montanà - Labyrinth 5

Fax +49-69/540464: 2012

The 2-Channel Stereo mix? Yeah, it's pretty dope, especially when I have my trusty Sennheiser cans on. Sounds are nicely spaced apart, well layered, pan from side-to-side as warranted, fade in the distance when called upon. I dunno though, I feel like I'm missing out on a critical component in how this is supposed to sound in DTS 5.1 Surround, as Namlook and Montanà envisioned their compositions while jamming away in Pete's studio. Or maybe the standard stereo is the proper take of Labyrinth, and the 5.1 is just a nifty (expensive) bonus for those with cutting-edge audio gear available. The technology is still rather niche, after all, only hardcore audiophiles having much interest or means of experiencing it, especially when most music is still released as 2-Channel stereo. Maybe if earplug and laptop speaker technology advances to such a degree that 5.1 is universally achievable, then we'll see more 5.1 masterings. Until then, music production should do as 3D does for home movies: it's there to utilize, and maybe the flick makes some cool use of it, but it shouldn't be a requirement for a 'full experience'.

So here we are, already at the end of the Labyrinth series, cut entirely too short by Pete Kuhlmann's passing. Who knows whether he and Lorenzo would have continued doing these at the same rate, but I've no doubt they'd still be making these to this date if they'd had the chance. Mr. Montanà's proven to be a prolific producer himself, and whenever Namlook found a New Best Music Buddy, he'd ride that creative synergy forever and a day. Unless ol' Pete got himself a different New Best Music Buddy, we could have been up to Labyrinth 10 now.

As it stands though, Labyrinth 5 is the last, and a solid final entrant it is. For one thing, no weird, off-putting acid bassline noise! (yeah, still can't get over it) The opening Path XXXII works a spacey, chill electro vibe, with all the familiar elements from Misters Namlook and Montanà in play for over fourteen minutes. This actually makes it the second longest track of the whole series, the first being the nineteen-plus minute long Path I opening the first album – most Paths average six to ten minutes, showing remarkable restraint given Namlook's history of long, noodly compositions, no matter who he's paired up with.

Path XXXIII lets Lorenzo's beatcraft stretch a little, with complementing Moog synths and charming bell tones. Path XXXIV gets darker and dubbier, using droning pads and burbling acid to great effect. A chipper Berlin-School styled cut marks Path XXXV, while Path XXXVI brings things closer to contemporary vibes, save some extended guitar diddling from Namlook. As the final Path, XXXVII doesn't have much going for it, a simple, chill tune more in Lorenzo's style than Pete's. A fine wrap-up for this particular album, but kinda' limp as a conclusion to the series. Not that Namlook and Montanà planned it as such.