Haddaway - Haddaway

Arista: 1993

A reconciliation? After a fashion. I ragged on Haddaway's debut album before, though it was based on hazy recollections of it, only a few stand-out tracks surviving into my lasting music collection. As the years wore on, a part of me started wondering, was it really so bad? What Is Love?, Life (Everybody Needs Somebody To Love), and Rock My Heart remain solid jams, so surely there's a couple forgotten gems I was too stubborn to appreciate at the time. Like, that Mission Control Mix of Life that closed the album out, that was a dope tune. Maybe not a sterling example of anthemic prog-house, but definitely something that wouldn't sound out of place rubbing shoulders with a Rollo track (not to mention an “'Any crew?' 'Negative'” sliding nicely in with the rest of the radio chatter).

So into a bulk bundle of eurodance Haddaway went, and yeah, there's a few tunes on here I'd forgotten about that I don't mind hearing again. Shout is the closest thing on par with the aforementioned club hits, with our leading man belting out the title with just as much enthusiasm as the other titles. Only thing holding this peppy tune back is the questionable bassline, a tad over-aggressive for the What Is Love? guy. Sing About Love is a surprising bit of variety, Haddaway getting his rap on over a darn smooth beat and chill pad leads. And, um... ah... hmm.

I really don't want to call the remaining seven tracks 'filler', because they are well produced for eurodance of the time. Some housier jams (Yeah, Come Back), some down-time ballads (I Miss You, Mama's House, Tell Me Where It Hurts) and a cover or two (Stir It Up) are fine for padding an album out, but do little in elevating Haddaway's profile. He's a competent singer, but compared to how much personality he exhibits in the big hits, the rest lack in memorable moments.

That in of itself isn't a complete deal-breaker though, if the tracks are paced out well, but the North American version of Haddaway's self-title doesn't do him any favours. Two lead singles at the jump, then little of note until track eight. Not even the Rapino Brothers Mix of What Is Love? mid-album (aka: the version suitable for New York City clubs) is enough to maintain interest. Plus, even with the rest of the uptempo tunes where Haddaway shines all bundled in the back-half, they are broken up by ballads. The European version (titled The Album, and featured on Spotify Deezer) paced things out far better.

Why did Arista arrange the songs like this? Did the label think Americans couldn't handle so much eurodance all at once? Sillies, folks are getting this album because of one of the genre's all-time biggest hits. Give 'em more right at the jump! No wonder I had such wack memories of Haddaway's debut, a big ol' stretch of nothing smack in the middle. Still, t'was nice reconnecting with a couple forgotten tunes.

Dido - Life For Rent

Arista: 2003

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

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

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

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

Snap! - World Power

Arista: 1990

They hadn't planned on it. Sure, they were having some fun dabbling in productions and all, but Michael Münzing already had a tidy career running clubs out of Frankfurt, all the while doing a little DJing on the side. And while he had some synth-pop success with Papa Sven and Luca Anzilotti as OFF, most of Münzing's productions were in service for the clubs he played at, even using sampling gear in his shows.

Still, any European DJ worth their salt at the turn of the decade couldn't help but notice the sounds coming out of clubs from Italy and Belgium (not to mention how sample-happy everything had gotten), American styled hip-hop and house music the new hotness. Never mind that such genres had never charted in Germany. Misters Münzing and Anzilotti figured they'd adopt an American-sounding alias, make a record or two for their own clubs and leave it at that. Only trouble is the resulting record became an international smash, a tune rinsed out at clubs, on radio, at sporting events, during high-school dances... and still does to this day. To imagine a world without The Power is to imagine a darkest timeline indeed.

There's more to the story surrounding that single of course (oh is there ever more!), but I've an album to get through here. Point is Münzing and Anzilotti had to follow that sudden anthem up with an LP, the duo and their newly minted 'Snap!' moniker going from strength to strength in the singles department. Ooops Up turned into another winner (though not quite as big in The US), and Cult Of Snap! showed they weren't afraid of injecting a little Afro-funk into their jams. And while “Benito Benites” and “John 'Virgo' Garrett III” had undoubtedly tapped into a nascent european-fusion of hip-house few others could replicate, it was rapper Turbo B who gave them their unmistakable charisma, Darren Butler's deep, aggressive American inflection often coming off like a Chuck D clone. Yeah yeah, he'd never be as politically charged as the Public Enemy frontman, but between his tone and Snap!'s wilful incorporation of Afrocentric music (in Germany!), it was enough to get Mr. Butler inducted into Afrika Bambaataa's Zulu Nation. Yes, really.

We all know the big hits off here, not to mention the charming house hit Mary Had A Little Boy (oh God, the high-school memories with this one!). The rest of World Power amounts to a little better than filler, and is probably quite wonderful if you dig those early '90s hip-house jams. Most of the tracks are just excuses for to Turbo B drop a bunch of brag raps (Believe The Hype, Witness The Strength), with Blasé Blasé the most charming with its strict Funky-Drummer throwback vibe and off-ball asides from a faux Flavor Flav (plus, that bassline!). The mid-album ballad I'm Gonna Get You probably sounds all kinds of corny on the surface, but I've no doubt 'friend-zoned' dudes everywhere play this as their anthem.

The KLF - The White Room

Arista: 1991

The White Room is a great album from a great band. Just kidding, The KLF were rather mediocre for most of their career. Their first release as The JAMMs sounded like a shit Scottish Beastie Boys. Really, they only had two things going for them: sticking it to the highfalutin record business, and knowing how to game the system to sell some fun pop tunes. Okay, they also may have been responsible for inventing a bunch of genres too, but anyone can do that. They simply made theirs super-popular with raving punters, inspiring legions of imitators and jock-riders.

Ha ha, kidding again; just busting some KLF Loving Fanboyz balls. Of course The White Room is a Very Important Album from a Very Important Band. It's the culmination of endless struggle from Jimmy Cauty and Bill Drummond, a crowning achievement in pop chart success, proving their novelty hit Doctorin' The Tardis as The Timelords wasn't some fluke. Hell, they literally wrote the book on how to achieve such success, and then done did it again, proving The System is so very easily subverted if you make enough tea in the end. Tea is important, after all, in supplying you caffeinated confidence that your work is not for ought. I assume they drank generic black tea or Earl Grey or maybe even English Breakfast in the late evening. Personally, Green Tea does the trick for me, but that's due to my proximity with various Far East eateries: Japanese sushi bars, Chinese restaurants, Korean BBQ houses, and all the pho a fool can force down his pho-hole in an afternoon.

But The White Room as we got isn't what The KLF had in mind, initially intended to soundtrack an epic road trip movie. When early recordings and test footage proved unfavourable, however, those plans were scrapped, and the various sessions dumped onto the B-side of a regular record release. The A-side then cobbled together their recent singles (What Time Is Love?, 3am Eternal, Last Train To Trancentral) with a couple additional cuts from the initial White Room sessions, added a bunch of crowd noises, and created a mock mini-concert as the result (and thus 'Stadium House' was birthed).

Only Teenage Sykonee didn't get that either, American copies of The White Room further gutting the album due to copyright claims on said crowd samples. Apparently some of it came from a U2 album (!!), and that's a big no-no in the sampling department. On the other hand, my version of The White Room has the kick-ass Live From The Lost Continent version of Last Train To Trancentral, a tune in my youthful naivety eagerly showed to my father in hopes of proving to him that 'techno iz kewl!' “Sounds like disco,” he remarked with a smirk.

Oooh, that just wouldn't stand! 'Techno' is cowabunga-awesome, and disco is square-lame. I thus travelled in search of the mythical White Room on The Lost Continent to prove so. Let me tell you the tale of my exploits.

Faithless - Sunday 8PM

Arista: 1998

I know I'm supposed to declare Sunday 8PM the only Faithless album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Faithless fan. It is, after all, the best of their discography, an excellent summation of the group's musical talents, nary a duff track in the lot, and all that good rot. Doing so, though, sells the importance of Insomnia on Reverence way short. I can guarantee there wouldn't be a Faithless as we’ve come to know them without the success of that single. Rollo and Sister Bliss would likely have retreated to other pet projects, absent of critical kudos, legions of fans, and piles of money-cash. Insomnia was so big, everyone doubted they could have topped it, and the debate still lingers whether God Is A DJ does the deed or not.

Still, Reverence was the experiment, everyone working together to see if their vision could work. Lo’, they succeeded, but having spent such a brief amount of time on it (a month!), what could they do with more prep and production? The answer is Sunday 8PM, an album that takes everything that made Reverence such a charming excursion and refines them into a wonderful whole.

You’ve got the chill-out instrumental opener The Garden fusing all sorts of influences like trip-hop, acoustic folk, and cinematic dub. You got rugged conscious hip-hop fused with melancholic orchestras on Bring My Family Back. There’s crackly folk-hop Postcards, which actually samples a Dido song released that same year rather than cut another vocal for the track – guess Rollo couldn’t help being efficient there. Why Go? goes for the full soul croon, which I thought was sung by Faithless’ still-employed soul-croon extraordinaire Jamie Catto. Silly me, he’s on the gospel-hop Hour Of Need, whereas that silly-hatted DJ Boy George gets the vocal on Why Go?. Elsewhere, Dido gets an actual song for herself in Hem Of His Garment, while Maxi Jazz throws in another sexy song with She’s My Baby. His shining moment on this album though, is Killer’s Lullaby, a chilling tale of sinister thoughts and deeds. The production on this track is positively stunning, starting with a soft, unassuming ambient session, then unleashing harsh trip-hop weirdness, and hitting a climax of cascading harpsichords and apocalyptic choirs, ending with a final, quiet denouement. Holy descent into madness, Batman!

Oh, and there’s two smashing club anthems in here too, God Is A DJ, and Take The Long Way Home. You’ve heard them, especially the former. I don’t need to talk about them as much.

Another feature of Sunday 8PM that trumps Reverence is just how well it flows together, including partial mixes between some tracks. The first Faithless album had good flow too, but this one’s sequence is sublime, shifting moods from introspective to exuberant, from harrowing to jubilant. It’s definitely one that deserves the full play-through treatment, though any track stands strong on its own too. Yes, even that titular sonic doodle in the back half. That bass pitch, mang!

OutKast - Stankonia

Arista: 2000

Wu-Tang Clan may have opened my ears to the possibilities of what hip-hop could sound like, but OutKast's Stankonia obliterated whatever biased barriers I had left. Not that my reaction was much different from everyone else who nabbed a copy of this album, Big Boi and André 3000's fourth LP lauded for its fearless genre-bending music by even the most cagey of rap veterans. Folks in the know were already hype to OutKast's potential though, even if the duo continuously exceeded expectations at this point in their career. I was coming in raw, with no knowledge of their history within the Atlanta scene. All I knew about Southern rap was whatever No Limit Records was churning out, and Stankonia sounded nothing like Master P. Then again, Stankonia sounded like nothing else on the market period.

For one thing, this album was among the first, if not the first, of major records in American hip-hop to inject the breakneck pace of drum ‘n’ bass rhythms into the scene. I’m sure some UK act had done the deed prior, or at least lyrically conscious MCs were spittin’ verses overtop Roni Size cuts, but music intended for raves was well outside the interest of this continent’s ghetto regions. Figures, then, it’d take these OutKast types to make that bold step into 155BPM territory with B.O.B. and smaller track ? (yes, it’s called that). Big Boi and Mr. 3000 weren’t satisfied just aping some rhythms though, making use of their newly acquired studio to indulge in all sorts of electronic sounds and productions. Red Velvet is pure electro, Snappin’ & Trappin’ goes weirdo electro (wasn’t really called trap yet), Gangsta Sh*t blasts heavy southern bass funk, Slum Beautiful fears no time signatures, and I’ll Call Before I Come tinkers with a drum machine like a toy box in Prince’s hands. And don’t forget all those funky Moog worms about So Fresh, So Clean, Xplosion, and Stanklove.

Stankonia was also where André started feeling the soul-croon itch, which initially gave his chums pause whether they were going to lose his rap talents. Instead, Big Boi let him run with it, and the result was some of OutKast’s most endearing songs ever, including their first major hit with Ms. Jackson. There’s also freak-out rock with Gasoline Deams, P-funk soul with Toilet Tisha, salsa with Humble Mumble, and plenty of quirky dalliances within multiple interludes. It’s funny how the more traditional hip-hop cuts with Spaghetti Junction and We Luv Deez Hoez, while fine enough productions, are almost forgotten amongst the genre bending going on. Well, no, you’ll never forget the hook in We Luv Deez Hoez.

Listening to Stankonia, it’s easy to understand why many OutKast fans were hesitant in embracing Speakerboxxx / The Love Below. This album finds the duo seemingly at the threshold of exploring amazing new approaches to hip-hop, whereas the latter, though a passion-project, was a step back. The relative lack of anything since has only made hearts grow fonder for this stank.

OutKast - The Love Below

Arista: 2003

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

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

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

OutKast - Speakerboxxx

Arista: 2003

To write about OutKast’s double-LP opus Speakerboxxx / The Love Below is ultimately an exercise in doubling one’s word count, the two ‘solo albums’ so radically different from each they demand divided attention. Fortunately for me, I’ve long set a precedent of reviewing individual CDs of multi-disc releases, and if there’s ever an album that needs this, it’s OutKast’s technical last album (to date). No, I don’t count Idlewild, the soundtrack merely one part of that project’s main focus: making a movie about OutKast, set in an old-timey ragtime era, because of course they would.

Before venturing into Big Boi’s album, here’s a bit of forgotten trivia first. When the double-disc came out, the CD you’d see upon opening the tray was André 3000’s The Love Below. This, despite Speakerboxxx long considered the CD1 due to its position in the main title, being the advertised front cover, and the name everyone automatically associates with this release. I bring this up because it points to one of the idiosyncrasies that made OutKast such a unique entity within hip-hop’s landscape. They thrived on dashing expectations, whether something big and bold like genre fusions on their albums, to something simple like tricking hip-hop heads into playing the disc they wouldn’t care for if they weren’t paying attention.

Speakerboxxx though, they’d be totally fine with, especially all those trunk rattling Southern bass jams. Big Boi always was the more ‘traditional’ hip-hop part of OutKast, and with a full LP to indulge himself, unleashes plenty of beats for the booty and body, and tons of rhymes for the lyrical heads. Ghetto Musick, Tomb Of The Boom, Flip Flop Rock, and Last Call have no problem getting rowdy and crunk for the sake of it, while funky soul worms its way in Unhappy, Bowtie, The Way You Move, and Reset. And though Dré 3000 doesn’t do much in the way of rhyming on Speakerboxxx, he does lend his production to a few esoteric cuts (Ghetto Musick, War, Church), bringing this CD as close to the vibe most point as vintage OutKast.

Not that Big Boi lacks lyrical back-up without his partner in crime afoot. Mr. Patton has plenty on his mind to spit, getting a few street tales and perspectives out on War, Knowing and The Rooster. He’s not hesitant in calling in some outside support too, Speakerboxxx featuring one of OutKast’s biggest guest spots ever with Jay-Z dropping in along with your usual plethora of Southern rap names (Killer Mike, Goodie Mob, Ludacris, Lil’ Jon & The East Side Boyz). At a time when crunk was primed for its takeover of all things hip-hop, it’s quite refreshing hearing such bass heavy music with some effort put into lyrics. Hell, Last Call with Lil’ Jon is probably one of the best non Lil’ Jon-produced Lil’ Jon tracks out there (pst, it was André 3000 at the console there too). Oh, the wonders we could have visited upon had OutKast kept going this route in the ‘00s.

Faithless - No Roots

Arista: 2004

Faithless had to know they needed a shakeup. The various members weren't feeling the synergy quite so strong as the years wore on, other pet projects taking their time away from being one of the biggest bands in the UK (huh, that sounds familiar). They had enough built-in good will with their fans that stretching their musical ability wouldn't alienate many anyway, so why not try something different while the opportunity was there? It's not like it'd abruptly end the group. Haha... eh, well...

Still, No Roots was popular enough, earning Faithless their first number one album on the UK charts. It’s mind-boggling that they never accomplished it with any previous LP. You’d think at least Sunday 8PM or even Outrospective would have climbed that high since those had much bigger singles in their favour (the group was still too ‘underground’ in their Reverence years). Generally speaking, Outrospective did have better success abroad, but most of the world had moved on from Faithless by 2004, whereas their native land still had much love for them (for a couple more years anyway).

No Roots may not have garnered the same mass appeal as their previous albums, but I wager this is Faithless’ best album-album after Sunday 8PM. Though the group dared to blend genres few others would in their previous LPs, their old formula was getting all too predictable. Here’s the trip-hop conscious track with Maxi Jazz. Here’s the Big Obvious Club Anthem. Here’s the world-weary folksy singer song. Here’s the Dido guest spot. Here’s the other Big Obvious Club Anthem. Here’s the other trip-hop conscious track with Maxi Jazz. Here’s the quirky track. Here’s the blissy instrumental. Hey, it was a very effective way to arrange an album, but doing the same thing three times in a row seems self-defeating for a group known for their dynamic musical abilities.

No Roots opts for a different, erm, route. You still have the same markers, but they’re blended into the flow of the album far more effectively. Heck, the entire record flows wonderfully between tracks, making the whole thing come off like one long song. Example: after the rousing build of I Want More (the first of the Big Club Anthem on here, though not as Obvious as prior hits), the drop into chipper, jazz-hoppy Love Lives On My Street is hardly forced, sounding as natural a follow-up as anything could. Another significant change to No Roots is the inclusion of LSK, providing an urban R&B croon in contrast to the khaki-clad style prior guest singers had (Jamie Catto, Boy George).

Elsewhere on the album, you get deep house (Sweep, Miss U Less, See U More), classy clubbier stuff (What About Love), acid ambient (Pastoral), and a little rock action too (Swingers) among the dependable trip-hop tracks. Plenty of reprisals throughout too, adding to the sense No Roots was designed with a full play-through in mind. Listen to a Faithless album in full? *gasp* No skipping to the hits for you, pal.

Faithless - Reverence

Cheeky/Arista: 1996/1997

Given all that we’ve come to adore about Faithless, the wild genre hopping on their debut album doesn’t seem so daft anymore. Why of course they’d go from handbag house to gospel folk to trip-hop bop – it’s what they do! On the other hand, electronic music’s seen nearly two decades of deconstruction since, rendering Reverence more of a novel dip into uncharted dance waters than anything astoundingly shocking or ground-breaking. Come to think of it, it’s not like the album was that far removed from the liberal dance-fusion going on in the UK earlier in the ‘90s either. Tell me what Faithless had that groups like Stereo MC’s, 808 State, or Primal Scream didn’t have. Oh, right, those super epic house anthems. Okay, two things. Oh, right, a brilliant producer in Rollo. Okay, three- y’know what, forget it.

As the mid-'90s rolled on, Rollo and Sister Bliss were already a prominent tandem within UK clubland, but the duo felt they were capable of more than kicking out singles for amyl house heads. They also suspected the audiences that fist-pumped to their tunes on the weekend might enjoy a slower, relaxed vibe when chilling at home. And they be right, trip-hop gaining all sorts of critical and commercial traction at the time. No surprise that YOLO-Rollo and Madame Bliss would throw their hats into that lucrative pile, but they lucked out in landing a chill, conscious-leaning MC with an incredible amount of spiritual charisma. Wait, how is that lucky? Maxi Jazz' style of lyrical manifestation should have fallen flat on its face in an era of gangsta' boasting, yet punters quite enjoyed his laid-back words of wisdom and anecdotes.

Then there’s the other half of Faithless’ vocals, Jamie Catto. Most know him these days as Who’sThatNow?, but way back in the group’s formation, he was just as vital a component to the Faithless sound as your Maxis and Didos. He provided a husky, soulful croon that complemented Rollo and Bliss’ dalliances into R&B and gospel, making songs like Don’t Leave and Angelina all the more powerful for it. Wow, considering I was kinda’ blasé about his songs when I first played Reverence, I never thought I’d miss his presence in later Faithless albums. Guess it helps to grow an appreciation for music outside the easy ear-candy of plucky stadium house bangers like Salva Mea and Insomnia.

Was that the plan all along, woo in the clubbed-up caners with a pair of undeniable anthems, then drop serious music education on them when they buy the album? Mr. Armstrong and Ms. Bentovim never claimed as such, merely making the tunes that captured their interest (in less than a month, no less!) and letting the chips fall where they may. The duo sound just as surprised by Reverence’s two-fold success in interviews, though they must have suspected they had something unique going for them. The only fault with this LP I can make is Faithless had yet to realize their full potential.

Faithless - Outrospective

Arista: 2001

Contention time: Outrospective isn’t a good album. There’s good music, sure, some of Faithless’ best compositions. There's also ample amounts of weak sauce; a sense of the group going through the motions (was Rollo saving his best new stuff for Dusted?). Not that it’s surprising if they had run out of ideas three albums in, having seemingly explored every facet of their inspirations on Reverence and Sunday 8pm. What need was there to rehash the same formula if the song-writing just wasn’t there though? They’d proved capable of free-wheeling genres, earning chart success and underground cred’ in the process – why not mix things up, go in an unexpected route? (erm, which they did with No Roots, but that’s another discussion)

First off, the club anthems on Outrospective are some of Faithless’ worst work ever. We Come 1 has its fans, but it sounds like a parody of the Rollo/Sister Bliss club banger stylee. The breakdown kills all momentum the track had going for it, the hook is one of the lamest farty noises I’ve ever heard for an ‘anthem’, and the build keeps teasing and halting and pulling back and for the love of God just get to the point already. It’s like El’ Rollie and Miss Bliss had finally hit their creative wall, stuck figuring out how to top God Is A DJ and failing miserably in the process. Compared to the club anthems they kicked out on the regular – even the unheralded b-sides remixes - We Come 1 is just sad. Tarantula’s at least better, not wasting as much time dithering about. Neither serves much purpose in the context of this album though; both come off like pandering, obligatory Faithless anthems because it’s what’s expected of the group. Small wonder such tunes were jettisoned in No Roots.

Still, Faithless albums held their own thanks to the downtempo, introspective moments, with either Maxi Jazz philosophizing about his youth and contemporary issues, or something more folksy with a guest vocalist. We get that with Outrospective too, but aside from the Mohammad Ali tribute, um, Mohammad Ali, little stands out the way prior songs did. Nothing delightfully daft as Baseball Cap and Dirty Old Man, nor anything gripping and tense like Bring My Family Back and Killer’s Lullaby (Giving Myself Away comes close as a tale of a destructive relationship). Elsewhere, Dido sings the chorus on One Step Too Far, which was a huge selling point for Outrospective given the massive star she’d attained by 2001, to the point her presence overshadows everything else about the track despite offering very little in the way of lyrics. That said, Zoë Johnston’s debut with the group is a nice addition, providing a more ethereal, British countryside element to her songs (Crazy English Summer, Evergreen).

Despite my general disappointment in Outrospective, the final run of tracks in Code, Evergreen, and Liontamer (now there’s a great build!) do make the album worth an occasional throw-on. Just not as often as other Faithless LPs.

The Movement - The Movement (Original TC Review)

Arista: 1992

(2014 Update:
When I wrote this, the notion of 'step' as a jokey descriptor was long thought dead, a relic of '90s drum 'n' bass genre splintering. Then dubstep started getting popular, and soon we saw 'step' for any damn variation of music adding a half-step beat. Chillstep, brostep, trancestep, psystep, popstep, drumstep, whalestep, and so on. I wonder if anyone is bold enough to try hipnostep.

This review was fun to write, though filled with a ton of awful grammar, some of which I've cleaned up for this posting. I think it captures the guiltless giddiness one can still experience when listening to old school rave music, no matter how absurd some of it came off. Jump! remains good stupid fun in a way that's rare in today's stupid-fun music. You're damn straight I'm wearing Nostalgia Headphones for this!)


IN BRIEF: Aaaaaarrrrreeee yyoooooooouuuuuuu reeeeaaaaaaadddddyyyyy!!??

You gotta love the cheekiness of some groups. Hardly content at being lumped into the same category of rave hardcore tearing up parties across the Atlantic, Los Angeles based act The Movement came forth with their own style. Comprised of the blistering beats and hoover-rific hooks of Belgian raves, and adding hip-hop influences from rhythms to MCing, this brand new form of techno would burst forth from the southern California scene as they promoted their own brand of L.A. P.L.U.R. And this new revolutionary genre’s name? Hipno!

Yes, you read that right. Hipno. Never heard of it? If so, don’t feel bad; you’re not alone in the confusion.

Hipno. It’s the kind of name folks bullshitting stupid genre names would come up with: like braindance, or progressive dub, or boomcore, or bassline-house, or speed speedcore, or chicstep, or indie techno, or vocal trance, or ‘rocktronica’, or no-step ambientcore, or hip-hop tripstep fallcore, or progressive stepcore, or anything with ‘progressive’, ‘step’, or ‘core’, or... well, you get the idea.

Yet, The Movement were so proud of their clever new genre name, they went and had it trademarked on their label, Sunshine Entertainment Corp. Yes, you read that right too. Trademarked! How, exactly, do you trademark a genre name?

Ah, it doesn’t matter. What does is whether The Movement’s sound was worth trademarking a name for it. In a nutshell, this is hipno: one part 2 Unlimited knock-off; one part ragga MCing ; one part hip-hop beat interludes; mixed in the L.A. rave scene’s jovial attitude.

And you know what? It actually works!

Lead track Jump! makes no bones about what it aims to do. The intro rhythms warm you up, then break down to let Hazze (the MC) give you a countdown. “5... 4... 3... You know the rest!” Then, boom! You’re right into the thick of it with thumping beats, shout-a-long “jump everybody jump”s, and vintage old school rave synths. While the riffs may sound stuck in 1992, the rhythms for Jump! still carry incredible weight to them even today. Eventually, the song calms down, hip-hop beats boppin’ about before picking the pace up again, head ing out for a big finish. Man, but is this track ever a lot of-

Eh? What’s that? Oh, I have them on right now? Sorry about that.

*Removes Nostalgia Headphones*

Okay, Jump! is fun, but that enjoyment is based on pure novelty: listen to it once in a sitting, get a silly grin on your face, go with the flow, and move on. Problem is, The Movement don’t. While some acts can milk a simple formula for an album’s worth of material, The Movement clearly lack that level of aptitude, and you quickly realize they’re a one-trick pony.

Aside from the ragga-influenced Tell Tú Mama (another fun track, true, but rather by the book), every other original track (and there’s only three) follows the exact same pattern as Jump!. Same beats, same MCing, same synths, hell even some of the same riffs! The only thing that really changes much is the topic of the track: instead of jumping, Shake That — encourages you to shake your ass; Don’t O.D. gives a quaint warning against overdosing on drugs, which I’m sure made BMG happier about signing a rave act; B.I.N.G.O.... um, you remember the song with the dog, right? There’s bits of charm at some points (I’m still a sucker for the ‘aah’ pads in Don’t O.D., even without Nostalgia Headphones) but equally annoying things too. Let’s just say I wasn’t sad to see whistles fall out of popular favor in rave music.

So, what about all those mixes in the second half of the album? Do they tamper with the formula much? Not really, as all but one are done by The Movement anyway. The Funky Hipno Remix of Jump! relies the hip-hop beats rather pumping rave ones, and the Tribal Mix of B.I.N.G.O. settles for brisk, unremarkable rhythms. The other two may as well be extended mixes.

The one non-Movement remix comes of something of a surprise when you look at the production credits: Holographic Jump! is a remix by none other than Jam el Mar. And, while not the most brilliant remix Jam’s ever done, it’s certainly a nice change of sound on the release. Sure enough, he does the old school trance thing with Jump!, as loops layer over each other with spacey pads and simple rhythms. Sounding more like a Dance 2 Trance production than a Jam & Spoon one, the main riff he uses is quite raw, but then what hasn’t on here?

In the end, hipno died before it ever got off the ground, after which The Movement went onto other things, some with better success (Richard “Humpty” Vission has had a decent run as a house DJ since). Because this ‘revolutionary’ genre is hardly revolutionary at all, this album isn’t even worth picking up as a historical artifact of failed genres: it bears far too much similarity to regular old school rave music to be treated as anything but.

However, there is still some fun to be had with this. The lead single Jump! was probably one of the better hits of this kind of music, and although there isn’t much else to be had here, the unapologetic silliness of some of these tracks is good for a laugh if you’re just chilling out with friends. If you ever see this in a bargain bin or used shop, and can’t get enough of that old school sound, you could do worse.

(Special thanks to the folks at Discogs for some of those genre names)

Snap! - The Madman's Return

Arista: 1992

Objectivity? Oh ho ho ho, that’s a good one! I wore the shit out of my original tape – yes, tape! – a frequent go-to collection of tunes for when I wanted something ‘dark’ and ‘heavy’ during my teenaged honeymoon year of ‘techno’ discovery. Of course, Snap!’s sophomore album The Madman’s Return is hardly dark or heavy when sat against the underground of ’92, but compared to the curiosity of early ‘90s chart topping EDM, perhaps so. Euro dance as we know of it today had yet to properly emerge (Rhythm Is A Dancer certainly helped get things rolling though), while New Jack Swing and hip-house was at its apex before crumbling away. Kriss Kross’ Jump, House Of Pain’s Jump Around, and Bobby Brown’s Humpin’ Around were some of the biggest hits of that year – guess everyone just wanted to jump ‘n hump around in ’92.

Snap! itself was going through changes, a conflict of ideas for their next move. The rapper Turbo B wanted to go more hip-hop, heavily inspired by the political words of Public Enemy and the like. However, Münzing and Anzilotti- whoops, I mean Benites and Garrett III, the German producers lurking in the studio, preferred moving on from urban, the sounds of Belgian beat, trance, and 'techno' catching their ears instead.

The Madman’s Return is something of a compromise from each, the result of which an album that’s surprisingly unique and holds up two decades on (ahaha! ‘Objectivity’…). The opener’s essentially a hip-house tune with Turbo B going on about how he’s back and ready to start some shit, but coupled with clanking percussion, acid, and a deliciously grimy hook, it’s unlike any hip-house you’ve ever heard before or after. Later, Mr. B goes off on the nature of sampling in Who Stole It?, and brags a bunch on the ridiculously heavy-beat tune Money. Sure, he’s not gonna have Chuck D sweating anytime soon, but the typical euro-dance rapper’s firmly put into touch by his wordplay.

Unfortunately, the other half of the album has ol’ Durron making sexy come-ons (Colour Of Love, Believe In It, Don’t Be Shy) or offering simplistic platitudes (See The Light). The tunes themselves aren’t half-bad, mind, though the former bunch are clearly attempting to recreate the success of the first album’s Mary Had A Little Boy. Meanwhile, See The Light is Snap!’s go at another ‘techno’ hit, and you can hear Turbo B struggling for enthusiasm for it. Heck, you could also hear it in the original single of Rhythm Is A Dancer, which makes the stripped-down album version all the more awesome – instead of a silly rap, simple spoken dialog conjuring an apocalyptic future. I told you this album’s dark!

Snap! were often derided when they were still active, but as the majority of crossover EDM grew ever more shallow and tripe, folks have warmed to group’s strong production and pop perfection. The Madman’s Return is easily their peak, transitioning from fluff urban to fluff trance in a remarkably gritty way.

The KLF - Justified & Ancient

Arista: 1991/1992

I never really liked Justified & Ancient in its White Room incarnation. Despite a decent number to end the album on, it held none of the thrill Side A was stuffed with, and little to look forward to after the mostly bland slog of Side B. Of course, I had no bloody idea that the proper single of this tune was totally different until much, much later, but after learning such third-hand, I'd never find it, forever lost to the dustbins of time where- oh, there it is in a used shop. That settles that, I guess.

The evolution of Justified & Ancient is probably more interesting than anything I can say about the music itself. Already a running theme within Jimmy Cauty and Bill Drummond’s discography (popping up as early as the track Hey Hey We Are Not The Monkees in the album 1987 What The Fuck’s Going?, under the earlier The Justified Ancients Of Mu Mu guise ...whew, what a wordfull), it seems appropriate this would end up their final single before calling it quits in the music business altogether.

Ironically, part of their retirement was due to the success of this single, specifically revitalizing Tammy Wynette’s career after she provided vocals for the new Stand By The JAMS mix. Suddenly The KLF were getting requests from a slew of has-been musicians looking for the Timelords bump. Well gee, can’t go becoming a part of the system they’d worked so hard to subvert, so screw you Music Industry, we’re done.

Included in this single is the ‘original’ White Room version, which I’ve warmed to since those blinkered early teen years of mine. Plus, in case you’re one of those ‘progressive house’ DJs needing an instrumental tool, there’s the Let Them Eat Ice Cream mix.

Really though, we’re all here for the upbeat UK acid house, chart topping romp of Stand By The JAMS. It’s got Tammy Wynette bellowing out the verses (apparently time-stretched at points as she was unable to sing in time to the backing tracks – darn country singers and always getting their way with session musicians conforming to their needs), a bouncy rhythm that was quite popular with cross-over house music in the Isle O’ Brits, cheers, chants, raps, guitars, daft lyrics (no, really, what’s with the ice cream van?) and all the uplifting anthem choruses you can sing along to (and wonder just how sincere The KLF were being with them). Oddly, there’s also an All Bound For Mu Mu Land version, which has frequent KLF vocal contributor Maxine Harvey taking on full vocal duties (she also provided the choruses of the Tammy Wynette version). Was this recorded prior to Cauty and Drummond knowing they’d get the First Lady Of Country in the studio, or after when their session didn’t turn out as they’d hoped before Cauty manipulated them? Ooh, now there’s a hilarious set-up for a theoretical one-question-only situation, to have it wasted on something so trivial. I’m sure The KLF would approve.