Cypress Hill - Elephants On Acid

BMG: 2018

This is an album that didn't need to exist, but oh are we ever so blessed that it does. The Cypress Hill brand could rest easy on their past achievements, and indeed that seemed to be the case as the 2010s took form. The prior decade hadn't been terrible for the group or anything, but it was clear their best days were behind them, DJ Muggs in particular seeing more critical plaudits in his solo ventures than anything he was doing with B-Real and Sen Dog anymore. And they were fine with that, Mr. Real content in establishing his own studio should he get the music bug, while he and Mr. Dog continued successful tours replaying the old hits. If Til Death Do Us Part was indeed the last of classic Cypress Hill, no one would feel shame in that, a legacy firmly enshrined in hip-hop history.

Which is what makes Elephants On Acid all the more remarkable. Yes, it's a dope-ass album of psychedelic rap music, possibly one of the greatest records of the genre in the past decade – from a highly recognizable name, at the very least. To even have the gumption to go all in with it though? That's some pachyderm-sized balls, mang'.

In fact, there was little sign it was even in their systems to go this deep into the trippy weeds. Cypress Hill music would sometimes side-glance into the realms of Gothic horror and psychedelic dreams, but almost always as flavouring while rapping about gang bangin' and marijuana consumption (and certainly less of it following their go with nu-metal). Here, it's like the script got flipped, more emphasis placed on just how twisted Muggs' music can go, with the usual street and grass references more of an afterthought, like visions of a past life while exploring LSD adventures. Which may not be far from the truth, this record apparently more the brain child of Muggs than anything B-Real or Sen Dog envisioned. The abundance of instrumental interludes, where Muggs is clearly indulging himself with whatever strikes his fancy (you're darn right Elephant Acid sounds like an elephant on acid), pretty much confirms such a theory.

Even better-better, it's a modern rap album that almost entirely eschews modern rap tropes. Some pitched vocals here, a female led chorus there, and that's about it. No cheap-ass trap beats, everything rhythm gritty, booming, and filled with rich instrumentation from across the globe. Want some choirs? Here's Jesus Was A Stoner. A little Latin swing? Here's Oh Na Na. Twitchy street vibes? Here's Pass The Knife. A sing-a-long anthem with heavy trumpets? Here's Reefer Man, though good luck keeping pitch with just how warbly B-Real and Sen Dog get with their “la la-la-la la”s. The only thing really missing from Elephants On Acid from being a true Cypress Hill classic is that one all-timer tune with Sen Dog on an ear-wormy call-and-response chorus. Granted, this isn't that kind of record, but just imagine if they somehow pulled that off this deep into their careers?

M.C. Sar & The Real McCoy - Another Night

Hansa: 1993

It really is insane how many memorable hits '90s eurodance cranked out. This is a group that, behind the scenes, should never have had a hope. First emerging in a post-Technotronic hip-house world, M.C. Sar & The Real McCoy only saw marginal success, probably because they road Technotronic's jock so damn hard. Plus, their name had to be a put-on, yet another in a long lineage of German dance acts featuring lip-syncing. I guess this was still an era where white Europeans named Olaf just weren't seen as worthy rappers, so here's a black dude named M.C. Sar to sell that cover of Pump Up The Jam.

Fortunately, Freshline (the production team behind The Real McCoy that included long-time DJ Quickmix and Jürgen Wind) dropped that gimmick, letting Olaf Jeglitza take front-man status for their next single, Another Night. Also, instead of mimicking American rap, O-Jay adopted a low-throated sexy come-on cadence, which should never have worked with any credibility, yet stood out as something unique in a rapidly over-crowding eurodance scene. Still couldn't shake that lip-syncing itch, however, relying on studio singer Karin Kasar for the lady-led hook while having Patricia Petersen be the face. Gotta' keep that project name firmly ironic, I guess, especially since they retained 'M.C. Sar' for a spell.

Still, can't fault the resulting single. Made at that tasty cross-road between hip-house of old and euro house of not quite as old, it's got everything you want and need of the genre. A solid rhythm, simple keyboard stabs, pianos, buzzy synths, a rap, an insidiously hooky earworm, all mixed together for pop music perfection. I'm surprised The Weeknd hasn't ripped this off yet.

I had a rip of the Club Mix for ages, and never saw much need grabbing a proper single. I did wonder though, whether some gem of a remix lurked undiscovered. This was released when some crossover with German trance wasn't uncommon for eurodance hits. Maybe I should take a gander at this?

Well, the Dance Mix may have your Maxx tiggers flaring, what with the lack of Olaf and the use of panflute riffs. Which makes sense since this team did help produce Maxx, another act that had lip-syncers. Heck, apparently Olaf wrote the lyrics for Get-A-Way! As for the Inferno Mix, I guess this is somewhat close to the realms of trance, what with its minimalist, bleepy lead. Then it tries to go all Rollo with a big orchestral build, but sorry, those strings just don't have enough weight behind them, not to mention a weak-ass siren. Ah well, the remixes on these euro singles are always a crap-shoot. Maybe they'll get more love in one of those charming shuffle-dance compilations.

As for whether I'll get any more Real McCoy, I dunno'. Run Away is another fine tune, but I can't say I was a huge fan of the rest I heard. All too quick to start sounding like everyone else, frankly. Or was everyone else copying them?

Dr. Alban - One Love (The Album)

BMG: 1992

The man known on his Nigerian birth certificate as Alban Uzoma Nwapa led a fairly pedestrian life before becoming a pop star in Euroland. He had no ambition to score a clutch of dance hits in the early '90s, no desire to become fodder for Swedish tabloids. All he wanted was to practice dentistry! He had to pay the bills somehow while going to school though, so took up some DJing gigs at local clubs, even commanding the microphone during his sets on occasion. That was enough to catch the attention of another Swedish DJ by the name of Dag Krister Volle, who was looking to get into the production side of things. The two joined forces, the former performing as Dr. Alban, the latter taking on the nomme de plume Denniz PoP. Yes, that Denniz PoP, the Godfather of Contemporary Swedish Pop (Max Martin came up under his tutelage).

The result was one of the earliest and most famous of the eurodance stars – yes, more so than even Haddaway! Dr. Alban's success lay in fully embracing his ethnic roots, sing-rapping with a heavy afro-accent, all the while honouring his heritage with songs like Hello Afrika and Proud! (To Be Afrikan). Then he and Denniz topped it with an anthem for the ages: It's My Life.

Seriously, this song seems to age like fine wine. Already packing in the best of what italo house had to offer in rousing piano hooks and unashamed choir choruses, this is peak time eurodance, setting the template for what the genre would morph into in the coming years. Of course the Swedes would get there first.

What I find so resonate with it though is the song's message, especially in our modern clime's. It's a simple declaration from Dr. Alban, of letting him just be, without the intrusions of those who should mind their own business. Far as I know, it was written as a means of dealing with his newfound fame, but the doc' stumbled upon something that can apply to so much more, just... so much more. How hasn't this song become a rallying cry for the LGBTQ+ community these days, who's lives are nothing but intruded upon when they just want to live their lives unhindered? Or maybe it has, I just haven't heard about it.

Oh, right, the album, One Love. The titular single is more of a dancehall ditty, while Sing Hallelujah! was another big house hit off here. The rest mostly runs the gamut between hi-NRG dance cuts, and nods to Alban's musical influences of reggae and afro-dance. Oh, and the obligatory safe-sex song in Roll Down Di Rubber Man, because early '90s. Honestly, aside from those big singles, One Love really does show its age. It's well produced and remarkably diverse for a '92 record, but if this era does nothing for you, nor will these songs either.

Except that BASSLINE in No Coke, another timeless slice of reggae boogie! ...Erm, as performed by Swedes.

Dubtribe Sound System - Bryant Street

BMG Music Canada: 1999

Considering how often I've come across Sunshine and Moonbeam's music, I feel neglectful in not covering their music much. Granted, they only had a few albums out within a decade's worth of activity, but seeing as how that decade covered the '90s, and a hefty chunk of the early '00s, you'd think their brand of San Fran' house would be right up my ally. And that may be true, if I ever gave them a chance to win me over, to have that One Moment when their music catches me at that perfect flashpoint in time when it hits just right. It's yet to happen though, and while Bryant Street does have plenty good going for it, I'm not sure if it's the album that will accomplish this.

First, a little background. The duo started out on the San Francisco scene as a live house act, incorporating gear, instruments and their own vocals into their shows. Almost immediately, they scored an underground hit in Mother Earth on Chicago-based Organico, a proto big-beat number most famous for Sunshine going on a hippie-punk rant about wanting his planet back (The Chemical Brothers sure loved it). A couple more hot singles and an album or two later, and Dubtribe was touring everywhere. They might have been an even bigger deal had they landed a major label deal earlier on. I'm sure that's what Jive Electro was counting on when they signed them, figuring they'd have another Groove Armada-level big name to their roster. It... didn't quite pan out that way.

Bryant Street starts off strong, getting in on plenty of that Latin house vibe with rows of congas, bombastic string sections, triumphant horns, and jubilant Spanish singing. As the album is continuously mixed too, the party keeps going, even as tracks like El Regalo de Amor and Loneliness In Dub take turns in getting deeper into the house vibes than the surrounding company. I wouldn't go so far as to say Dubtribe are doing much that would stand out from a crowded pack of house contemporaries, but it's fun while it's playing.

Then Sunshine has to start getting his rant on again in Ain't Gonna Do You No Good and Holler!, and, well, it was cool hearing him spouting off in Mother Earth but it just feels forced here, as though he's trying to outdo and over-complicate the simple, emphatic “I want my planet back!” Holler! especially sounds like a hold-over from Dubtribe's earlier rave roots, such that I can't help but expect Sunshine to end each verse with “It's the only rhyme that BITES-AHH!”

Closers Breeze and If You're Not Coming Back To Me go more Balearic and jazzy, respectfully, but unfortunately, the abrupt change in the album's tone that preceded these tunes leaves a weird aftertaste on my ears, such that I've checked out. As did Jive, when they dropped Dubtribe after Bryant Street failed to shift as many units as hoped. Back to the underground, I guess.

The Prodigy - No Tourists

BMG: 2018

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I may have passed on The Prodigy post-Millennium, but that doesn't mean I didn't keep some tabs on them, the lingering question of “are they still going?” always tugging at my curiosity. Truth is, questions of 'relevancy' were long since dashed after Liam Howlett failed to keep pace with electronic music's mutations throughout the '00s, and it seemed he spent a lost decade of figuring out just where his brand of thrashy-bash stadium fodder fit. I think he eventually sorted it out, and No Tourists finds the Prodge machine running as smoothly as one could expect/hope for in the year 2018.

Which, for all intents, may end up being the final official Prodigy album, what with Keith Flint's passing and all. Yes, Liam was the brains behind nearly all the music that ever came from the Prodigy banner, but as a live act, 'Keef's presence was what catapulted the group from rave favourites to something marketable across the globe. For good or ill, it was Mr. Flint and his iconic double-'hawk hairdo that got him front and centre on Spin Magazine (and lampooned by Weird Al's quickie Lousy Haircut), not Maxim's cat eye lenses, Liam's nose-ring or Leeroy's... gangling legs? Howlett long claimed the tunes he made were just as much in service of Keith's antics as anything ear-catching or club smashing, knowing he'd struck upon a winner if his stage jester went completely ape-shit to it as the tune blasted from stacks of speakers. It's difficult imagining Liam finding the same level of musical confidence without Keith's moshing approval.

And that's the vibe I get from No Tourists, ten tracks designed with maximum thrash appeal for those who still have a fondness for Prodigy of old. Still, I won't deny almost fearing the worst with opener Need Some1, the track sounding like it's cribbing from the school of Pendulum rather than anything Liam built. Fear not, my friends, for follow-up Light Up The Sky brings back the big boshing beats of yore, with red-lined acid thrash and sped-up rasta vocals. Yes, it's way familiar of Prodigy of old, but isn't that what we've always wanted from them anyway?

The other track that treads into contemporary festival cliches is Timebomb Zone, and only because those chipmunk vocals aren't of vintage rave stock. Boom Boom Tap too, I guess, though I sense that one's more a pisstake of trap anthems than a sincere attempt – how else to explain a curt “fuck you” at the drop before unleashing fierce jungle on your ears? As for the rest, No Tourists is all fine, the sort of tuneage intended for quick, explosive release, then just as soon passed on by. There little that sticks with you like classic Prodigy of the past, but for the time you spend with them here (a rather brisk thirty-seven minutes!), it's a fun ride. And, given the circumstances, if this does mark the final Prodigy album, it's a fine final send-off as well. Respect.

Sasha - Airdrawndagger

BMG UK & Ireland: 2002

I sure remember the hot anticipation for Sasha's debut album. Like, there was long, gestating buzz over whether he'd ever do the deed, as the discourse is wont to go when it comes to popular DJs. Curating all those class trance records, groovy progressive house tracks, and spiritual superclub vibes, surely had to impress some inspiration upon Mr. Coe such that his muse demanded his own tunes too. And as his career continuously went from strength to strength (Renaissance, Northern Exposure, Xpander EP!), the time seemed right to drop an LP of original music in ye' olde year of 2002. (whoa, deja-vu)

Everyone's familiar with Airdrawndagger's story: big hype, lukewarm response, now regarded a relic of prog's heyday. For sure folks enjoyed what they heard on this album, but it wasn't the knock-down smash they hoped for. As though they needed this record to definitively and emphatically resuscitate and cement progressive house/trance/breaks' legacy as the One Genre To Rule Them All.

Instead, Sasha – yes, Charlie May and Junkie XL lended a heaping helping hand – set out for something more conceptual, music just as enjoyable being played at home as hearing rinsed out in the clubs. And hoo, he done did that, the tunes on Airdrawndagger utterly lush within my headphone space. Sixteen years on, the production's as cutting edge as the day it dropped, even if the song-writing mostly remains stuck in the past. Which is fine. Despite some wailing that there was nothing as instantly classic as Xpander on here, Sasha maintained Airdrawndagger was an assemblage of his various influences throughout his years of DJing. Or just coming due on all those half-formed ideas floating about from his 'studio time' following missed gigs.

So you get the chill tunes setting the mood early, but holding nothing back on opulent synth melodies either (Mr. Tiddles, Magnetic North), all the while keeping the rhythms at a steady groove. Then things get more technical than musical for a while, which is dope if you dig sound design in your beatcraft, but may be lacking if you need your melodies up front and obvious. James Holden to the rescue then, as Bloodlock might as well be a solo-Holden track, the sort of twinkle-prog he practically pioneered. It's almost shocking to hear this tune now, considering both Sasha and Holden would disown it so soon after. That Coldharbour crew though, they had no problem claiming it.

The album kinda' eases things down from there, Requiem a spritely ambient outing, Golden Arm a steadying prog groover, and Wavy Gravy a chipper prog-breaks closer. Not the rousing finale you'd expect from Sasha and co., but again, Airdrawndagger never was gonna' be a dozen tracks of clubbing fodder. Next-gen production aside, this is mostly a record with no aspirations of commercial appeal, but rather music making that sates one's own soul. And hey, if anyone else gets something out of it, all the better. Such modesty strangely makes it better the older it gets.

The Oak Ridge Boys - Gospel Hits

Sony BMG Music: 2005

Greetings, Past Peoples. It's been a while, at least from your perspective, that I, Sykonee Of The Year 2073, have graced this region of your 'inter net'. It's been a while for me as well, hopping the various timelines, seeing what events may come and how things may have turned different if things had just gone a little stranger. For instances, did you know there's a time-line where the German Nazis won World War 2 with a little item called the Heisenberg Device? You do? And they made a TV series out of that? Oh, well, that's arctic and all, but you all figured it just fictional, whereas I've seen the reality of it. Or the alternate reality. Sure t'was not mine, and t'is not yours, though whether my reality becomes your reality remains a mystery, don't it. I've noticed a few minor instances of differences of what I knew and where you are, but very little to suggest The Great Divide isn't still on course. No, fret not, the Atomic Brotherhood will carry you through it, saving us from all that unsavoury retrograde Murican business. They look out for their own kind, they do.

Of course and correctly, I'm back here to bring tidings of that indomitable musical force that at least provides our disparate cultures with some common ground of clay, the everlastingness that is The Oak Ridge Boys. We in the Cascadian realm admire them for their contributions to atomic resourcefulness, while those others adore their Jesus, Godly, and Murican themes, reinforcing their beliefs to an almost fanatical degree. It's strange how two cultures can find such different, opposing embracings of enjoyment from the same musical source. You folks in your times could learn a thing about that. Might even prevent what's to come, if you think what I live in isn't to your likening. Haha, just coming with the jokes there; my future is ordained.

So here we are again, with Another Oak Ridge Boys Gospel collection. It's astonishing just how many of these are on the market, isn't it? All with different degrees of quality, content, and presentation. I've been handed a couple impressive ones, a few redundant ones, but this one, this one is a big ol' lie.

Unlike so many other of their gospel collections, this one had some major-proper support from one of the big record companies of old, Sony BMG (eventual subsidiary of Disney-ZTE). The Oakies weren't signed with Sony BMG (eventual subsidiary of Disney-ZTE), but they had gotten a little surged patriotic love in rallying Muricans together in the wake of the 9/11 attacks. What better opportunity, then, than dusting off some rights-held recordings for the quick bucker compilation market?

Thus, even though the cover adorns The Oak Bridge Boys as they were in 2005, everything within is music recorded in the early Nauty Seventies, including when Lil' William Wynn was tenor. Deceived us, Sony BMG (eventual subsidary of Disney-ZTE) has! Should have just shown another church.

Snap! - Welcome To Tomorrow (Original TC Review)

BMG: 1994

(2017 Update:
Not much else to add to this old review. My thoughts on it haven't changed much in the ten years since I wrote it, and the story of Snap! hasn't seen much else of note happen either. They did join in on those 'I Love The '90s' nostalgia concerts that sprung up a few years ago, which is cool and all, but nothing from this album made it into their short playlists - at least, from what I've seen on various YouTube clips. I never got to go to those shows, stuck on the continent that I currently am. I'm not sure how they could have included Welcome To Tomorrow or Rame or The First The Last Eternity anyway, so drastically different from the group's biggest hits as they are. Maybe Dream On The Moon could have fit, having a similar 'rugged' rhythm as their older hip-house hits, but would anyone know that one? Yeah, thought not.)

IN BRIEF: The first mainstream trance album? Perhaps.

(to their song Who Stole It)
So, Snap!, what happened to thee?
You’re once players in this industry.
But something happened along the way;
Now your impact is forgotten today.

Alas, something did happen to the power-house dance outfit Snap! With ultra-hits like The Power and Rhythm Is A Dancer, they helped popularize a euro dance scene into a global phenomenon. At the peak of it all though, when work on their third album Welcome To Tomorrow was soon to begin, a number of factors ended up drastically changing things for the group.

The most glaring one is the absence of rapper Turbo B. Much has been debated over his worthiness as an MC. Some found him wholly unnecessary and his rhymes silly. Others quite enjoyed his faux Public Enemy persona, lending the songs he was featured on a vitality that was often missing from the many copy-cat acts that followed. Whatever your impression of him was though, he undoubtedly gave Snap! much needed stage presence considering most of the music was done behind-the-scenes. However, Turbo B and producers Michael Münzing and Luca Anzilotti (or John “Virgo” Garrett III and Benito Benites, heh) had a falling out. He wanted to get back to hip-hop, whereas they had other plans. Thus their union came to an end for the remainder of the 90s.

Yet that’s not the end of it. Snap! could easily have settled on producing stock euro house with female singers, but the German duo never wanted to be caught rehashing their former successes in those days - hence the drastic differences between their first two albums. Once again, they decided to go for a new sound, but what?

Oddly enough, trance provided the answer. It was already blowing up in German clubs in ‘94, and two albums with Jam el Mar at the helm (Dance 2 Trance’s Moon Spirits and Jam & Spoon’s Tripomatic Fairytales 2001) had shown some potential in the genre’s crossover ability. Münzing and Anzilotti also had ties to the scene, having known tastemaker Sven Väth when they performed together as Off in the 80s. Perhaps at the time it seemed like the logical course of action, but sadly Welcome To Tomorrow was a few years too early to be a successful mainstream trance album, and it greatly hurt the public’s response to it (well, aside from in Germany, obviously).

The lack of Turbo B was the least of their identity crisis. Snap! retained a signature murky bass-heavy sound throughout most of their releases, but not this time out. Welcome To Tomorrow’s production is mostly squeaky clean, even to a fault in some cases. If they wanted to create the image of a future where everything is devoid of the grime and grit of the present, they certainly succeeded there, but this was not what folks expected. Small wonder the new singles from the album were mostly met with apathy from nearly all their fans: they weren’t even sure if it was the same group anymore (which, in a sense, was true).

On its own merits, then. As a mainstream dance album with trance influences, does Welcome To Tomorrow work? At times, yes. Some of these tracks contain all those vintage elements trance was built upon, and Snap!’s offerings are as fine as anything the underground saw. Most apparent of these is Rame, where the combination of stuttery synths, sweeping pads, and Rukmani’s ethnic vocals could have found a tidy home on any old school trance compilation. Elsewhere, It’s Not Over makes for a peppy instrumental, The First The Last Eternity finds similar elements to Rame in a subdued setting with lyrics provided by their new female vocalist Paula Brown (aka: Summer), and Waves dips into ambient’s waters with Ibizan-tinged guitar provided by Markus Deml (whom some may remember from his pairing with Ralf Hildenbeutel as Earth Nation around the same time - the ties to the underground continue!).

A bunch of these other songs though... I dunno, friends. I mean, I normally don’t have much problem with doe-eyed clichés but seriously, Snap! go overboard here.

Green Grass Grow, It’s A Miracle, Welcome To Tomorrow, The World In My Hands: my God, but what syrupy sap these are. The World In My Hands is at least somewhat tolerable with a moodier tone, but the rest sound like they were written with children in mind. In fact, I think they were. Münzing had a baby daughter at this point, and it seems like his paternal instincts drastically took over his music writing, such to the point he even gives her some ad-libs on It’s A Miracle, a song about the joys of childbirth. Yes, I admit whenever I think about holding my newborn nephew, the same sentimentality does come up, but not when I’m listening to a dance record. Here, I can’t help but be just a bit embarrassed, like watching someone performing simpleton-silly googly acts to a bemused baby. And this comes from the same group that just four years prior had Turbo B rapping about lamenting a broken condom?

Welcome To Tomorrow isn’t a bad album though. It’s just very different from what you’d expect: a Snap! album, a dance album, anything really. You can throw it on and, provided you don’t blush to death from the effusive emotions at points, be reasonably entertained. Unfortunately for them, it brought the group down, and despite their continued attempts at comebacks this decade, they have remained out of public consciousness for the most part, save the continued replays of The Power and Rhythm Is A Dancer. Not exactly the future they predicted, then. Ah well.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. All rights reserved

Jean-Michel Jarre - Equinoxe

Disques Dreyfus/BMG: 1978/2014

Despite being a solid follow-up to Jarre’s synth-wizardry debut Oxygene, Equinoxe remains overshadowed by its elder sibling. Like, why hasn’t Jarre’s sophomore earned itself a spiffy New Master Recording? Or a conceptual return three volumes deep? Not to mention the oodles of EP re-releases, usually coinciding with a greatest hits package. And while a couple tracks from Equinoxe often make the cut on such compilations, Oxygene dominates the selection process.

Part of this has to do with the fact Equinoxe pretty much is a continuation of ideas and sounds already explored in Oxygene - and as we all know, it’s primarily the First of something that gets all the attention. As Jean-Michel’s career carried on through the decades, it was marked by several other significant moments that took up space in your standard Cliff’s Notes recaps: the mega-concerts, the switch to digital from analog, the switch back to analog from digital, the on-again off-again relationship with club culture, etc. With so many talking points to touch upon, its unsurprising discussion of ‘the album that came after Oxygene’ isn’t the highest priority.

But important it is. Not Very Important, mind you, but important enough in that Jarre had to prove Oxygene wasn’t some fluke of creative serendipity. Given the nearly unprecedented global success of his debut in the world of synth music (no, we will not include Deserted Palace in this discussion, ever), fan and foe were eager to hear what he’d come out with next. Could he replicate that magical blend of modern classical artfulness while keeping an ear tuned with pop sensibilities? Might he go more abstract as a creative challenge? Or totally sell out with some disco pop, as was the happenin’ thing to do at the time? A little of each, turns out.

For sure Jarre has another long-player concept in mind for Equinoxe, this time of the dawn-to-dusk journey of Mankind. Right, that’s one Hell of a vague descriptor, though listening through this album, I can hear what Jean-Michel was shooting for. The first two tracks (Part 1 and Part 2) call upon his classical music knowledge, the first more a grand opening, the second a somber, mysterious reflective piece. Things get peppier in Part 3, building up to the centerpiece of the album in Part 4. It’s got a strident rhythm, sweeping synth strings, a hooky refrain, key changes, and lots of plinky sounds, burbling proto-acid…the usual assortment of Jarre treatments. Is it better than Oxygene? Does it matter? I think it’s cool, isn’t that enough?

Part 5 and Part 6 are even brisker than Part 4, though clearly treading into synth-pop’s territory. Part 7’s where it’s at though, tying everything together in a tidy, tasty sonic bow. Would have made for a perfect end to Equinoxe, but Jarre decides a little indulgence is in order, Part 8 running through some French pop silliness, then going full modern classical again for an outro. Ah, why not; I’ll allow it. ‘Tis fun.

Snap! - Snap! Attack: The Remixes

BMG: 1996

Look, you know the hits, but their omnipresence within radioland, videoland, and sports-arenaland may have soured folks who'd been swayed in by The Power and Rhythm Is A Dancer. Why should they bother with a remix of a dance tune they only tolerate as it is, then? They wouldn't, hence clubland the only place having much use for a remix CD, and even then it’s suspect. Maybe DJs were wholly on board the Snap! train early on, but all that success tainted the underground's perspective of them. Thus, jocks that could get mileage out of Snap! remixes likely weren't having them in their rotation - not even the pop DJs, who'd just play the originals anyway.

That leaves the hardcore Snap! fans that’d collect everything they put out (*cough*). Yet such a following had significantly dwindled by the time this came out, concurrently with a ‘Best Of’ CD (dying career alert!). Not to mention the messy departing of rapper Turbo B excised his vocals from all of these tracks, including in an updating of The Power, titled The Power 96. As this is post Welcome To Tomorrow Snap!, gone are any sort of rugged, hip-house rhythms and urban vibe, replaced with standard eurodance beats and trance pads. The tune needs a rap though, and as ragga still had some popularity, in comes Turbo B’s replacement, Einstein, a euro rapper who’d been around since the late ‘80s. He’s adequate for what the tune’s accomplishing, but Snap!’s production had definitely lost an edge. The following two remixes are also by Anzilotti and Münzing (Snap!’s producers), and also aren’t much to get fussed about: Cult Of Snap! tries getting a deeper, tribal feel going, limply so, while Welcome To Tomorrow is... Look, the tune was already hammy to begin with, and ain’t no way they’d make it any better.

Fortunately, Snap! Attack: The Remixes turns remarkably fantastic following that, featuring a list of remixers that have to be heard to be believed. Oliver Lieb is here! Rollo and Sister Bliss are here! Dance 2 Trance is here! David Morales is here! Torsten Fenslau is here! Stonebridge is here! Even Resistance F’n D. is here! How on Earth did Snap! ever court such an A-list roster of house and trance producers? I’ll grant a bunch of them are German, and Snap! seemed buddies with just about every well-regarded name in that scene (remember Off with Väth?), so maybe it’s not so surprising after all.

Nor are the quality of these remixes either. Each lend their distinct sounds to their respective tunes (Resistance D. do the acid, Rollo and Bliss do the arena anthem, Dance 2 Trance the squalling, pitch-bending sawwave synths, Morales the bumpin’ New York garage, Lieb the... Lieb, I guess), with only the proto-Faithless rub of Rhythm Is A Dancer coming off weak (that ‘kick’ ...ugh). This unexpected (undeserved?) all-star cast of remixers is about the only selling point for Snap! Attack, but hoo, what a selling point it is.

Jefferson Airplane - Platinum & Gold Collection

BMG Heritage: 2003

It may be the biggest fucking cliché having Jefferson Airplane in a music collection, but what was an aging counter-culture chap to do? I was already in my mid-Twenties, man, feeling my grimy raver’s roots slipping away as the allure of proper clubbing beckoned in the big city. But I was still hip, yo’, still down with the folksy, psychedelic sounds that pot smokers and such couldn’t get enough of. I’ll prove it! There, that CD sitting in the bargain bin of this supermarket we’re currently rummaging through. It’s got a couple bona-fide classics of the San Fran’ ‘60s scene – heck, some of these members were utterly adamant that they built that city – built it – built that city – built – built that city on – built it – ‘n’ ro-o-o-l-l-l-l! Head trip, yeah.

Seriously though, the Jefferson Airplane story is a crucial one in understanding how influential their brand of folksy psychedelic rock became, endearing itself to a generation, and several others after who admire the hippie lifestyle (*cringe*). It's only fitting that the band came to an end as the '70s took hold, creative differences leading to a split – one became Jefferson Starship, because '70s sci-fi and shit; the other became Hot Tuna, because '70s progressive, drugs and shit. And then there was just Starship in '80s, which was a huge commercial success and represented all that went wrong for '60s rockers in that decade. Let us never speak of it again.

Obviously with such timeless classics like White Rabbit, Somebody To Love, and... um... mmm… (*checks track list*) ah, Watch Her Ride, the Thomas Aviator Band's seen tons of official and unofficial greatest hits collections over the years. This is one of them. As I recall, the Platinum & Gold Collection series was BMG's excuse to trot out their catalog every so often, just in case you didn't already have these songs on CD or in this order yet (buy the albums? Pft, what are you, a vinyl enthusiast?). There really isn't much else to say about this particular compilation that a rock historian hasn't tirelessly detailed elsewhere.

The main take-away I got from Platinum & Gold Collection is how succinctly it summarizes the San Fran' music scene. The first couple tracks are incredibly folksy, which makes sense since Jefferson Airplane was only a small group of folk musicians when they debuted. Then the psychedelia rode in on a rainbow wave, and they got all trippy good – half this disc features songs from Surrealistic Pillow, from which their most memorable hits came about (adding Grace Slick to the line-up didn't hurt). Then everyone went crazy against war and all that bad stuff, protest rock the new hotness. Figures the final track on here, Volunteers is of the band chanting that there's a revolution going on (Woodstock anthem!). Appropriate for the Jefferson Airplane story ending there, then, before glum reality settled in for the starry-eyed hippie generation. Or a fitting conclusion to this CD. Take your pick.

Boney M. - Nightflight To Venus ('Proper' Review)

Song BMG Music Entertainment: 1978/2007

Okay, let's critique this for realsies. Does Nightflight To Venus hold up? Was Frank Farian a mad musical genius or German hack? Why do we forgive Boney M.'s lip-syncing, but ruthlessly crucify the latter Farian-helmed project, Milli Vanilli? Actually, that last one's easily answered: Milli Vanilli won Grammys, while Boney M. did not. Fool the common plebs of music consumers all you want, but don't you dare make a mockery of the Grammys!

It's not like Farian planned a career of studio lurking while pretty boys and girls pranced about on stages, quite content remaining anonymous. Despite a love of funk, disco, soul, reggae, and other contemporary black music, his being way German wouldn't fly with traditional audiences of those scenes. So hiding in the studio suited him fine, but then his Boney M. project got ridiculously popular within a few short years, and a demand for live performances and telecasts forced him to create the stage act we associate with the name. Why not appear live himself? He wouldn’t be taken seriously, of course, unlike having lip-syncers ‘perform’ the music instead. 1970s, you so wacky.

Nightflight To Venus came out when Boney M. was at the height of their popularity, Farian’s perfect blend of disco-pop and euro-reggae having won the ears and hearts of thousands across the continent. How’s a crafty German follow upon such success? Get totally conceptual on the masses’ asses! Well, not too conceptual, but the first two tracks have to rank up there with some of the ballsiest moves a disco-pop producer could open an album with.

Though hopping on the super-hot sci-fi bandwagon with the titular cut wasn’t unprecedented, the fact Farian would craft such a loopy, tribal rhythm had to catch the Boney M. faithful off-guard. Add in marching drums and clapping “Hey! Hey!”s, and it feels as though you’re a part of the Soviet Verena missions to Venus. For that matter, Farian must have had a brief fascination with the Russians, carrying the rhythms through to Rasputin so whatever theme he’d created with Nightflight To Venus was maintained. As for one of the biggest disco-pop hits ever, can you imagine a song about a Russian monk hitting the top of today’s dance charts? Hell, anything with an historical story involved? Utterly, brilliantly daft and genius, that Farian be.

The other big single off here, Rivers Of Babylon, plays more to the group’s Caribbean charms, inoffensive music often emanating from radios, though anyone deeply versed in reggae won’t find much of interest there. And if I’m honest, that’s also true for the disco cuts He Was A Steppenwolf and Voodoonight. Farian does have a way with a hook though, and slick production chops that you can’t help but find yourself grooving to. It’s the sort of music most DJs wouldn’t mind playing as part of a fun mixtape, the unheralded album tracks that somehow work against all odds. Go on, admit your unabashed adoration for Boney M. Rasputin compels you to...

Rascalz - Global Warning

BMG Music Canada: 1999

Every few years, the Canadian media jumps on some home-grown hip-hop act as our country's ambassador for that scene. So long as that one act is at the top, nearly every other one is seemingly forgotten about. Currently that title is owned by Drake, but this phenomenon stretches back at least two decades. The earliest I can recall receiving the MuchMusic push was Dream Warriors, who were then supplanted by Choclair as the Most Important Canadian Rapper. Rascalz soon followed him on the success of their second album Cash Crop (not to mention a Juno Award they famously snubbed), but their time in the spotlight was swiftly usurped by Swollen Members. The media finally gave K-OS a bump once folks grew tired of Swollen Members, and now we're with Drake. *Phew*... did I miss anyone?

As for these Rascalz, they'd been around since the early '90s, existing as a complete 'Four Pillars Of Hip-Hop' contingent based out of Vancouver. As such, it's no wonder it took so long for folks outside the Lower Mainland to notice, their strengths often lying within the live scene (sure can't capture breakin' and graffiti on a CD). Their talents couldn't be kept hidden forever though (especially when Canadian media's always dying for that next Great Rap Hope), and after the collaborative hit Northern Touch (which included Choclair and Kardinal Offishall) got them all the plaudits, anticipation was high for their follow-up album, Global Warning.

And why not? With their new found fame, they also had new found funds, able to bring in guest collaborations and slick production while remaining true to their underground roots. KRS-One! Barrington Levy! All those Canadian rappers too! Heck, even French rappers Consice and Sazon show up – how Canadian is that? Pre-fame comedian Russell Peters also gets a couple appearances with skits, and final track Sharpshooter samples Bret “The Hitman” Hart. Oh my God, I’m gonna Canadagasm!

Guests aside, the music on hand maintains mostly an Eastcoast conscious flavour (well, aside from that Beatnuts collaboration Can’t Relate, their stock gangterisms sounding totally out of place following the smart raps of Priceless). DJ Kemo handles most of the music, but rappers Misfit and Red 1 get time in the producer’s chair too. As Misfit and Red 1 share a strong dynamic between the former’s regular flow and the latter’s dancehall toasting, the music also plays to their strengths. Reggae jams, minimalistic funk (hello, Wu-Tang influence), boom-bap, all mint for those who crave their hip-hop underground and streetwise, not thugged out.

Whoops, maybe that’s why Global Warning didn’t perform as great as expected. Conscious hip-hop was still firmly in the underground, and despite strong singles in Top Of The World and Gunnfinga, not to mention the ridiculous amount of Canadian promotion, folks soon forgot about Rascalz’ efforts (to be fair, Dr. Dre’s resurgence that year overshadowed nearly all of hip-hop). While I wouldn’t call this album a lost classic, it’s held strong after all these years, as only timeless underground hip-hop can.

Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)

BMG Music Canada: 1993

I’ve made no secret of my love of the Shaolin crew. It was the Wu that opened my ears proper-like to the possibilities of hip-hop ingenuity, but even before then I had a level of respect for the odd tune I heard from the group. It took a while to catch on though, in no small part because my teenage years were spent on the West Coast. True, the Canadian West Coast, but G-Funk ruled my peers’ Discmans, thus I seldom gave anything East Coast notice. Oh, those wacky years when regional distances mattered.

So I entered the temple that RZA built and began digesting whatever Wu material I could. Problem was I came a tad late, thus my early Wu consumption was almost all post-Forever material. And while there were still a few solid releases under the Wu flag at the turn of the century, it paled compared to the pre-Forever era. It was a while before I bothered checking it out though, largely the fault of a CD called The RZA Hits, essentially a collection of the best cuts from those early albums. “Why should I get Enter The 36 Chambers,” I thought, “when half the album’s already on The RZA Hits?” Man, bring out the Australian boot, ‘cause I deserve an extra punishing kick for that one.

Fact is every cut off here could have ended up on The RZA Hits. That’s how bloody good this album is. Rowdy bangers (Bring Da Ruckus, Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing Ta F’ Wit), posse anthems (Protect Ya Neck, Da Mystery Of Chessboxin’, Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber), introspective moments (C.R.E.A.M., Can It Be All So Simple Then) or individual showcases (Method Man, Clan In Da Front, Shame On A Nigga… kind of), this album’s got everything one can hope out of a hip-hop release. But hey, you should already know that. Even if you haven’t heard any of these cuts (!!), you’ve at least heard about its classic status within the hip-hop canon. Two decades on, it hasn’t lost its shine.

Or rather, none of the raw, unvarnished grit has worn away. As the Wu were still very much of the street at this point, there’s no fine studio polish or immaculate production here. The RZA made do with what he had and got ridiculous mileage out of the bare-bones drum kits and samplers. It of course helps to have eight outstanding MCs (Masta Killa’s only here for one verse) on hand spitting fire throughout. Enter The Wu-Tang was already an incredibly unique and distinctive sounding record in ’93, thus it’s more remarkable each MC is just as unique and distinctive as well. I’ll deal with them when I come to their solo albums though. In the meanwhile, you get on Enter The Wu-Tang, as it’s one of about ten rap albums you’re supposed to have even if you’re not much of a fan of hip-hop.

(As an aside, this is also my one-hundredth review since writing them again. Celebrating in style!)

Robert Miles - Dreamland

BMG Music Canada: 1996

Right, Robert Miles. Children. The Dream Version. *cracks knuckles*.

I hate this whore of a track. Loathe it. Despise it. Every time I hear the first plink of piano, I cringe, but know I cannot escape the saccharine journey that is about to unfold. Maybe, just maybe, it might be okay. There must be something to enjoy, somewhere. Strings? Yeah, those are nice, but- What? That's your rhythm!? Holy hell, I thought the melody was sap, but this is pathetic. How do you ruin off-beat basslines and kick drums all in one shot? I know trance isn't the funkiest groove out there, but there was still some jump to it, some energy. This has nothing. It's just... there, sucking.

And I hate Fable even more.

That's only the first two tracks though, and seeing as I'm reviewing Dreamland, it can't be a total write off, right? I have kept the odd crap CD over the years after a used-shop haul (collector's obsession), but I bought Mr. Miles' debut album when it was new, hence me covering the original version without One & One (thank God!). Part of it was the lack of options living in the hinterlands of Canada while getting into trance-proper. Dreamland was about the tranciest thing one could find in any shop in 1996, and beggers can't be choosers.

More than that, I actually rather like the other tunes on Dreamland. Okay, they don't deviate far from the 'dream house' template Miles made popular, but it’s enough that it shows he can craft a half-decent beat. Fantasya: a bouncy bassline! Landscape: the rhythm has skip to it! In My Dreams: breaks ...that are funky! If you can craft a rhythm like this, why you no be funky elsewhere, Mr. Miles?

I should also bring up that plinky piano. I’m not a fan of it (shock), but Miles does sometimes put it to good use as a melodic counterpoint. In My Dreams starts with lovely, mournful string pads, which thus become the focus of the whole song - the piano merely dances around it to wonderful effect. He pulls a similar composition with In The Dawn, once again backing pads driving the melody, with his piano making only a brief appearance; not to mention the rhythm in this track’s got a nice shuffle to it. It’s not revolutionary, but for the ideas Dreamland presents, it’s far more intuitive than the big hits.

And that’s not even getting into the two tracks just about everyone agrees are good, the Original Version of Children and Red Zone. They’re closer to the sort of trance most folks enjoyed at the time and worth a look-see even if you wrote Robert Miles off because of Fable and the like.

Oddly, most of Dreamland has been forgotten, many disappointed there’s not more generic ‘dream house’ bilge. My God, those are the crap tunes. When Miles goes beyond the ‘limp-beat-plinky-piano’ template, that’s where this album get’s interesting.

Various - Club Cutz Volume 7

BMG Music Canada: 1996

Ah, Club Cutz. Now there's some history! Fine, it was strictly a Canadian thing, but at one point it was among my country’s premiere compilation series, rubbing shoulders with other greats like Dance Mix, DJ Line and Chris Sheppard’s Pirate Radio Sessions. After moderate interest in early editions mostly featuring house, the comp producers changed gears when euro-dance gained steam, and found a simple formula for success: be the first to have that hot new dance single everyone needed, and watch the sales skyrocket. What Is Love, Tonight Is The Night, Another Night, More & More …um, Cotton Eye Joe - all made their major Canadian debuts on Club Cutz.

Then, to earn the truly big bucks, the CDs also featured well-produced dance covers of 70s rock staples, an effective tactic in attracting the ‘housewife looking to let her hair down’ demographic that I guess existed in the early 90s. At least, they were the ones requesting “that dance version” of More Than A Feeling and What’s Up at weddings.

Club Cutz 7 truly was the series’ last great hurrah. The must-have hit single? Shut Up (And Dance With Me) from Sin With Sebastian. Even my non-dance friends fell sway to its goofball charm. Me, I preferred the unabashed euro fare of First Base’s Love Is Paradise.

Half the other tracks consist of fun but otherwise forgotten slices of euro. Chances are their hooks have been cannibalized by whatever contemporary dance-pop beast exists at a given time, but those wonderful galloping rhythms could forever be lost to the 90s.

The rest features big gay house and garage, including that Deep Dish remix of De’Lacy’s Hideaway that was making the rounds. Yep, there be divas galore, something of a retro return for the series, and thus no dance cover of 70s rock. No, Tainted Love doesn’t count. Besides, Senor X’s version’s not that good, and whenever I hear it, I can’t help but think of giant squid. Yes, there’s an amusing anecdote there, but I’m running out of self-imposed word-count space.

Even with this edition’s success, one could tell the good times at the Club Cutz camp were ending. Not only cannibalistic, dance-pop is a fickle beast and the tides of change were well under way in ’96. Euro dance was stuck in a creative rut, follow-up singles and albums failing to reach the highs of two years past. European shores started noticing fresher sounds from the lands of trance, while American clubs saw glamour in hip-hop. The main series lasted one more edition, then the label tapped Chris Sheppard to re-invent it in ’98 as Club Cutz 101, mashing together urban and club trance into continuous mixes. They made it all the way to 606, so I guess it was successful, but it clearly lacked the charm of its euro years. Thanks to downloading, gone were the days of track exclusivity, and so too was the anticipation of seeing what a new Club Cutz would feature.