Banco de Gaia - Igizeh (20th Anniversary Edition)

Disco Gecko: 2020

I was hyped when Toby Marks started putting out 20th anniversary editions of his back-catalogue, but only for the first couple albums. As I only discovered Banco's music after the Last Train To Lhasa era, his early years had remained something of a mystery, a potential trove of unreleased alternates, versions, and remixes of tunes that don't get as much shine in modern years. By Big Men Cry though, I was consistently on the ball about Banco, so didn't miss out on much that I wasn't interested in to begin with. And to be blunt, the packages that were released for Big Men Cry and Magical Sounds... didn't look to enhance those albums beyond what I already got out of them. Thus I let them pass on by.

Igizeh's re-issue though, I was interested in this one. This album tends to get overlooked, the big-beat 'hit' How Much Reality Can You Take? overshadowing some of the best songs to ever emerge from the World Bank. Seti I remains a top class tribal opener, Obsidian a fun romp into trance's domain, while Ms. Folker's heart-wrenching go with Glove Puppet cuts like a knife through your soul. Meanwhile, though B2 and Gizeh may not be quite on part with similar tunes in Banco's catalogue, they're still solid entries into his ambient dub and epic jam lexicon. Even the 'lesser' tunes like Creme Egg, Fake It Till You Make It and Sixty Sixteen nicely round out the album experience. Yes, Igizeh has everything going for it that should have made it a Banco de Gaia classic, if not for one thing: the mixdown.

Granted, there's none of the dirty digitalness that marred You Are Here. However, it was rather muffled too, as though the microphones used to record in all these live settings simply couldn't pick up the performed music at its best. Surely a spiffy, modern, remastering of Igizeh would erase those limitations, give these songs the resonance they deserve? Well, there's more clarity in 20th Anniversary - I can pick out even more drumming than before! I still need to crank the volume a little extra though. Guess there's no getting around the quality of the source material.

But enough of that. The selling point of these anniversary editions has been the bonus content, and I was quite intrigued by what Igizeh's offered. Banco's drifting into proper band territory has made much of that music difficult to remix, likely the reason why Magical Sounds... featured mostly live versions instead. Not here though, every tune getting the remix treatment in some way. A couple I already have (ADF's go with Obsidian, Dreadzone's go on Glove Puppet, Jack Dangers' go on Reality), others are just dancier versions of the originals (Seti I, Creme Egg, Gizeh, B2). More interestingly, 100th Monkey's turns the Pink Floydy Fake It into prog-psy, while Andrew Heath radically alters Sixty Sixteen into his brand of minimalist ambient. It's like the rousing, climatic second half of the original never existed!

Banco de Gaia - Big Men Cry

Mammoth Records: 1997

Though I place Big Men Cry at the tippy-top of Banco de Gaia albums, if I were to recommend a record for a first-timer, this would be, like, second-to-last. For this is an album that doesn't so much represent Banco as a whole, but rather the bleeding edge of what Banco is capable of.

Even by Last Train To Lhasa, it was clear the classic ambient dub and progressive house style Toby made hay from was tiring out, needing a whole second disc to indulge himself away from dance music's rules. Possibly emboldened by the 'live' nature of those sessions, plus needing to 'evolve or die' in the rapidly mutating scene that was '90s electronica', Toby decided it was time to get the old band back together. Or start up a new band. Get more live instruments into his gigs, is what I'm saying.

And to do that, his approach to songcraft had to completely change, allowing for more freeform flow in his jams than relying on standard acid house loops and samples. Oh, there was still that too, but tracks Drippy and Drunk As A Monk feel far looser than Banco tunes of old, adaptable to musicians playing them rather than being reliant on machines. Meanwhile, Celestine tries the same trick with ambient dub, but despite some wonderful saxophone tooting from Pink Floyd alum Dick Parry, is still a bit stiff compared to the other two. Marks would iron out those kinks in follow-up albums though, and hasn't looked back since.

Still, that wasn't enough to shake Toby out of the doldrums he was feeling around this time. So down he was that he made one of his all-time saddest songs in the titular track, all forlorn strings and beautifully weepy melodies, never again so bare heart-wrenching emotions put to song. Sometimes though, even nakedly laying out one's soul isn't enough. Sometimes you need to escape everything, even if it's One Billion Miles Out, the great beyond and grandeur of the cosmos, unsullied by the hand of man. Banco had ventured into the cosmic realm before, but never in such a manner that you fear its unfathomable desolation.

Yet your gaze settles upon a lone star freighter, quietly drifting in the emptiness, its cargo unknown as it moves through the interstellar medium. Eventually it pulls into Starstation Earth for refuelling and a greasy meal, a real dive of a 'trucker's stop', your only company some droids and a sad-sack singing old country croons from a jukebox. Can't stay admiring the scenery though, as it's back to the stars, taking off at hyperspeed and disappearing into the great beyond before Toby quite literally closes the gate on the album (have I mentioned all the pronounced field recordings yet?).

Banco's music has always been quite 'visual', but Big Men Cry is downright cinematic compared to his larger body of work, pulling you into other worlds well beyond your crusty dance floors. It's emotional escapism music at its finest.

Banco de Gaia - 10 Years (Remixed) (Original TC Review)

Disco Gecko: 2003

(2018 Update:
No, I don't have the actual 10 Years compilation from Mr. Marks. I did, at first. I mean, all those classic Banco tunes, plus assorted rarities like the Jack Dangers rub of How Much Reality Can You Take and the Insect Intelligence version of Amber, gathered onto two discs and all. Of course I got myself that! Then I loaned it out to a friend. Never got it back, though to be fair, I didn't push him to return it either. It's not like it was difficult to 'get' the rare offerings again anyway (most of these can be found on the Rewritten Histories collections now), so I was fine letting 10 Years slide from my coffers. I may be a major Banco fan, but I'm not a completist ...he says while reposting a review for a 'completist only' compilation.

This review is pretty rambly for one of my latter-years TC efforts, probably 33% longer than it needs to be. It's like, whenever I got the chance to talk up Banco at TranceCritic, I didn't hold back one iota. The other reviews I wrote for the website - Maya and Farewell Ferengistan - were absolute behemoths in word count. Thank God for self-imposed word count, though I'm oh-so tempted to break that rule whenever I get around to Big Men Cry.)

IN BRIEF: Ten years of tour mates.

For good and ill, the remix album has become an undeniable part of dance music’s legacy. It’s reached a point where they are not only expected, but even counted upon in some circles. I’ve seen several bemoan a lacklustre album-proper only to follow such sentiments thinking “hopefully the remixes will make this better.” Trance alone has several albums packaged with an additional remix disc, not to mention the endless follow-up remix discs for the bigger releases. Despite some of the positives that come with the endeavor - the odd time a remix actually does an original better, or rounding up rare and obscure remixes into a single package - far too often these CDs are cynical, quick money-grabs, milking an artist’s music for every potential penny. Ultimately though, remix albums for electronic music share the same status live albums from rock bands do: potentially interesting, sometimes brilliant, but usually skippable.

This is what makes a remix CD for Banco de Gaia even more peculiar. Toby Marks has consistently shied away from cheap commercial gains, so you really can’t take 10 Years: Remixed as such. On the other hand, it’s not like there's been a plethora of remixes of Banco tunes over the years, most of which are done by Marks himself. Despite some notable names being given the re-rub task (Oliver Lieb, Speedy J, Jack Dangers), the trend has been Banco de Gaia does the best remixes of Banco de Gaia. However, those were already included on the 10 Years proper album.

Which brings us back to 10 Years: Remixed - specifically, what exactly is this release all about? I suppose doing a remix album is justifiable when it’s in conjunction with a retrospective album, but Marks knew full well there weren’t enough in his back catalog for a proper CD. If such is the case, then how about brand new remixes of a bunch of classic Banco tunes? Sounds good to me, only there’s a catch: instead of hiring out big names or scene mainstays, Marks got in touch with a bunch of his musical associates from over the years and gave them carte blanche to go wild. And if you’ve followed his musical career, you’d know the man from the World Bank has had some wildly eclectic associates, though with more of a leaning towards the global-fusion dance beat (obviously).

I guess what I’m trying to say here is only hard-line fans of Banco de Gaia are going to get much out of this release ; par for the course when it comes to remix albums anyway. If you’ve read this far, then you’re obviously a fan (or incredibly curious), so let me tell you what to expect from 10 Years: Remixed.

First, the familiar. Even here at TC, names such as Eat Static, Loop Guru, and HIA (The Higher Intelligence Agency) have crossed paths (er, mainly because of a certain reviewer’s affinity for a certain producer who’s been tied to them), and as such the groups bring their trademark sounds to the tracks they got to remix. HIA turns the obscure proto psy-dub gem Soufie into a clicky ambient-techno piece, Loop Guru ramp up the ethno-dub styling of Sakarya, and Eat Static gives Lai Lah the psy-trance business, but also throws in a bunch of other samples Marks has used in other tracks (I Love Baby Cheesy, Kuos, etc.).

Meanwhile, other psychedelic and dancehall dub mainstays like Temple Of Sound, Zion Train, Dreadzone, Asian Dub Foundation, Future Loop Foundation, and Transglobal Underground lend their hand, with various results. Some are quite the reworkings, such as Temple Of Sound turning Drunk As A Monk from a kind of prog-rock stomp into a brisk neurofunk excursion; or Dreadzone giving the incredibly somber vocal version of Glove Puppet some rhythmic spring (Jennifer Folker still sounds gloriously tragic though). On the other hand, not much is gained or lost in Future Loop Foundation adding dreamy Balearic tones to Celestine, while Zion Train seems at a loss as to what to do with Shanti, providing a brief and rather generic techno -dub tune in the process (honestly, though, would anyone be able to top Marks’ brilliant Black Mountain Mix?); and what exactly is going on in Obsidian? Transglobal Underground’s stomp-dub go at Amber is ace though.

Now, the obscure and unknowns. Well, 100th Monkey isn’t exactly obscure - it's long-time Banco collaborator Andy Guthrie - but certainly not a name you’ll immediately connect with. Since he’s been familiar with Marks’ work over the years, it’s unsurprising he gives Sunspot a great remix - and it’s also a mash-up with Qurna! Elsewhere on the CD, old school industrial group Perfume Tree - here known as Veloce - does a respectable deep-trance rub of Heliopolis, which rates around the Shanti remix in terms of usefulness. It’s the hopelessly obscure Carbomb that brings us the most ‘leftfield’ cut, turning Drippy into a kind of thrash-metal thing - has to be heard to be believed, even more so that it actually works!

*whew* That’s quite the eye-full for the hardcore Banco fan, I must admit, but given the eclecticism and seemingly random order of all these remixes, it could not be glossed over. Well, it could, but that’s not what we here at TC are about. Where am I going with this? Oh, right… 10 Years: Remixed. There’s a few quality remixes here - see below for which - but this CD’s mostly a ‘completists only’ deal. Although it’s interesting to hear different versions, it’s primarily going to be Banco fans that will appreciate them.

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

Banco de Gaia - You Are Here

Six Degrees Records: 2004

You Are Here is Banco de Gaia's worst album.

I was tempted to just leave it there, move on, and eat up self-imposed word count with discussions of puppies, or kittens, or puptens, or kitpies (surely merging all that adorableness will result in something uber-adorable!). Besides, while it's fun to tear into utter crap EDM or banal trance bollocks now and then, it's lame getting hyper-critical like some edgelord YouTuber at my age, especially if it's with regard to an artist I actually like. But then I got wondering, why do I dislike You Are Here so much? While I enjoy most of Toby Marks' music, even I cannot deny he's thrown up a few dud tracks along the way, stuff that doesn't move my mojo in favour of his mint material. This album though, so much of it just feels regrettably off to my ears, such that I need to unpack this, understand why I rank it so low in Banco's discography.

Where to begin? How about the thing that's immediately noticeable and casts a shiny, slick, sucky sheen on everything: the mixdown. You know how there's a difference between a rock album from the '70s, and one from the '80s, in that the latter often sounds flatter and stripped of analogue warmth? That's what it's like listening to You Are Here compared to every other Banco album. Dear Lord, but does it ever sound digitally flat to me, as though the soul of Marks' music is completely absent. So many bass textures are DOA (glaringly so on Waking Up In Waco and Not In My Name), that it makes sitting through them a cringing chore. This, from a musician who can have you hanging on every second in a half-hour-plus excursion through Kincajou! Even Marks must have realized this digital mastering wasn't working for him, as he went back to an analogue mixdown in his follow-up Farewell Ferengistan, with much improved results.

That leads me to my second point: I can never remember how the back-end of this album goes. After the radical tonal shifts between the twelve-minutes long, slow blues-jazz croon of Gray Over Gray, into the cheeky pop-house romp of Tongue In Chic, the remaining three tracks of You Are Here always and utterly evaporate from memory, sometimes even right after they've played. This is the only Banco album where that happens to me! No matter their quality, every tune on every other album sticks in my brain meat, but Not In My Name, We Are Here, and Still Life? Fifteen years on, and still nada despite many attempts.

Then there's the heavy-handed political sloganeering (even for a Banco album), the genre dalliances that never led to future explorations, and that initial nagging dread that, after 10 Years, Banco de Gaia might have nothing left in the creative tank. Thankfully, You Are Here proved more an aberration than a trend, so I'll end on a positive note: Zeus No Like Techno remains good stupid fun.

Banco de Gaia - The 9th Of Nine Hearts

Disco Gecko: 2016

I shouldn’t feel like Banco de Gaia’s last album, Apollo, is still a recent release. It’s been three years since it came out, and Toby Marks has provided us with numerous items in that time. Singles, remix albums, 20th Anniversary re-issues, expansion of his Disco Gecko print to include music from outside artists. For all intents the Banco & Co. brand has been busier than its ‘90s heyday, which should leave Apollo already a distant memory, this newer, fresher album of The 9th Of Nine Hearts tingling and tugging at my earholes in anticipation. That super-long gap between albums prior to Apollo must have jaded me some, figuring ol’ Toby had turned into one of those “eh, whenever” musicians that was content riding out his past works into the sunset of his career. Sure am glad this album proved me totally wrong on that front!

If Apollo was Mr. Marks finding his ‘90s mojo once more, then The 9th Of Nine Hearts finds him fully expanding upon it with all the song-writing skill attained since then. More consistent throughout, more nuanced in themes explored, more confident in reviving old ideas in service of a new era, this is the album casual fans had been hoping from Banco since… well, whatever they figure was his last, official ‘Best LP’. Pretty sure it isn’t anything from his wayward ‘00s era.

This one though, it’s got spiffy worldly beat-jams (Le Foucauld, No Hablo Italiano), rising proggish rock-jams (Burn The Witch), and throwback ambient dub with guest Pink Floyd saxophonist jams (The Princess And The Sky Goat - and yes, that’s Dick Parry horn tootin’ again). Then there’s ultra-throwback dance cut 91, where Marks teams up with vocalist Sophie Barker (of The Egg’s Walking Away fame) for a retro-rave tune that’s proper old-school acid house in tone, but nice and crisp for contemporary ears.

Amongst all these tunes are plenty of downtempo and ambient tracks that show off Banco’s matured songcraft over the years. Opener Nine Hearts has a widescreen, dream-pop tone with swelling synths and piano doodling. Bookmarking the album is another piano piece in This Heart, incredibly soft, gentle, melancholic, but strangely optimistic too. Not sure why it reminds me of Neil Young’s piano folk – maybe it’s my only real frame of reference to piano music of this sort?

Elsewhere, Warp And Weft gets all ethereal and trippy with Banco’s ambient dub, Midnight Sun goes full-on ethereal, and the middle portion of the album is highlighted by two contrasting pieces. Seriously, Is-Is Loves Anhk-An-Atum and So We Dream Of Futures Lost work so well together, I thought they were the same track on several early playthroughs. This actually happened with a few tracks on this album, 9th Of Nine Hearts one of the best flowing Banco albums in ages. In fact, if I’m to level any significant criticism against it, it’s almost too smooth for the amount of musical diversity on here. I can live with that.

Banco de Gaia - Last Train To Lhasa (20th Anniversary Edition)

Disco Gecko: 2015

I swear I never intended to get this when it was announced. I mean, for as much of a Banco fanboy that I am, I do have some limits in how much I deem necessary in my music collection. The 20th Anniversary edition of Maya, that had some cool things included: alternate versions, live versions, rare extended versions, etc. However, for the same celebration of Toby Marks' most popular album, Last Train To Lhasa, I can't say the extra features were enticing selling points. An even longer version of Kincajou (Duck! Asteroid)? Pretty sure the original was pretty long enough – how many more spaced-out looping sequences can one stretch the concept out for? Ah, additional rhythmic sections at the end, turning a remarkable run of old-school ambient prog into something closer to the danced-up version heard on the Live At Glastonbury CD. Nifty, but not terribly necessary either. Then again, is thirty-five minutes-plus of Kincajou (Duck! Asteroid) necessary to begin with? Yes, yes it is.

Those extra remixes then, that featured on the first-run limited edition of Last Train To Lhasa, the 3CD version. Surely I’ve been waiting ages to hear what those sounded like. Yeah, a funny thing happened around the turn of the century. Thanks to a remarkable tube system known as the interwebs (you may be using it), finding rare musiks became exponentially easy. You bet the moment I discovered the magic of AudioGalaxy, China (Follow The Red Brick Road), Amber (Insect Intelligence), and 887 (Darkside Return) were among my first search inquiries. Aside from the surprisingly funky Amber rub though, I’ve never gotten too fussed over these versions. China’s essentially the same but with more dub effects, and 887 tries the Duck! Asteroid restructure, meandering far too much of its runtime in the process.

I suppose to give every track a new, lengthy remix, White Paint (Where’s The Runway Dub) and Last Train To Lhasa (Very Extended Ambient Mix) are added to CD3. The latter is essentially the same track as the original with a stripped-out rhythm, but with an interesting twist in the middle: the sampled chant is isolated and looped for a few measures, sounding as though emenating from loud speakers in an abandoned stone temple. Definitely lends the track some heavy poignancy hearing it in this context. Meanwhile, Marks goes full-on funky Orb with White Paint, a track I’d never thought I’d enjoy hearing played out at nineteen-plus minutes. Lots of dope sample cutting and dubby beatcraft.

Still, all this wasn’t enough to convince to splurge on this release. Then, the guest remixers were announced, and OH MY GOD, BANCO DE GAIA KNOWS ASTROPILOT??? My... how... when... whauu...! This is a pairing I’d never have even considered, yet here’s ol’ Dmitry, remixing the titular track in his typical prog psy stylee. Also a double-take moment: Alucidnation, doing a Balearic rub of White Paint. Wow, that track got all the glory in this reissue. That Andrew Heath mix of China’s quite good too.

Banco de Gaia - Maya (20th Anniversary Edition)

Disco Gecko: 1994/2014

Four months in, and I finally am reviewing something released in the year 2014. Unfortunately for those only interested in the latest and, um, latest (has a definitive classic been released yet?), it’s a 20th anniversary re-issue of an act I've undoubtedly talked way too much of over the years. Banco de Gaia certainly has his fans (oh hi, me!), but at two-decades plus into his career, the odds dwindle at Toby Marks capturing the interest of newer folks out there. Fact is, this style of music generated most of its significant PR during the '90s, when any fresh, new genre could earn big write-ups in music magazines read by several thousands. As electronic music and the scenes it cultivated grew ever more segmented and niche, the potential general market dwindled, sub-genres sustained by the dedicated and the hardcore. And while something from the past occasionally gets a fashionable make-over, its unlikely Banco de Gaia will benefit from such an opportunity any time soon.

Thus we’re left with a triple-pack CD that’s daunting to the uninitiated, and a little redundant for the dedicated (oh hi, me again). Mr. Marks had to know this going in, hence limiting the release to just 1,500 copies, a fair sum in this day and age – makes me wonder how many quantities the limited 3CD set of Last Train To Lhasa ran for. Included here is the original Maya, handy for those who may need a replacement of the twenty year old disc but never sprung for the 2002 re-issue (*cough*), and two alternate discs with different versions of the same tracks. A nifty gimmick with these extra CDs is how the songs are sequenced in the same order as Maya-prime.

CD3’s the redundant one for me, as it contains many remixes I already got on various other sources. New to this release, however, is a couple more live cuts (Shanti and Data Inadequate doing the business, though the latter’s not as fun as the Glastonbury version), plus a thumpin’ breaks remix of Mafich Arabi from Temple Hedz. Also, I’m surprised I never made the connection before, but the Blue Mix of Soufie has elements reused in the album version of Maya. Even us fanboys keeping discovering things with proper context!

CD2 has all new-old material, some of which is totally fans-only curiosities (an original demo of Mafich Arabi), and some that’s sublime catnip. The ultra-long Duck! Asteroid version of Kincajou wasn’t the first time Marks indulged himself with an ambient epic – here we get a twenty-plus minute ‘original master’ of the Red With White Spots version of Shanti. Oh my God, I ambientdubgasm! The Green Tractor Mix of Sheesha’s nice too, livelier than the normal version.

Still with me at the end here? If so, chances are you’re enough of a Banco de Gaia fan that you’ve already ordered your copy of Maya (20th Anniversary Edition). If you haven’t, better hurry – you may not be so lucky for a 40th Edition.

Banco de Gaia - Memories Dreams Reflections (2014 Update)

Disco Gecko: 2009

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

I promise this is the last Banco de Gaia for a good long while. Pinky-swearsie, I do! Well, until that 20th anniversary edition of Maya arrives in the mail. Or Mr. Marks happens to release another album with a title falling within my alphabetical stipulation. Beyond that though, it’ll be a long time, for sure a very long time.

What wasn't so long ago was the release of Memories Dreams Reflections; at least, it doesn't feel that long ago. Four-point-five years though, that's practically a lifetime in raver years. Heck, most give up on 'the scene' in that amount of time. I sure didn't, but then, coming of age in the hinterlands of Canada didn't provide much opportunity for the quick, burn-out turnaround many go through. Actual parties were few and far between, whereas the big cities often got away with one every weekend. By the time I got to a big city with such a scene (Vancouver), it was on the downswing, most of the old-schoolers having moved on or found new homes in the ‘classier’ club scene (woo, legal alcohol!). In re-branding raves as ‘music festivals’, we’re seeing the upswing of a new generation , but if the typical reveler lifespan holds true, the first wave of burn-outs will start in short order, if not already.

What of the hold-outs, though? What keeps us going to these events, listening to this music? I’ve often asked myself this, and the answer always comes back to the search for that ‘perfect’ party. Sometimes it’s a desire to re-capture something from one’s youth, other times it’s a hope to experience it just once, but in the end, there’s long been a romanticism associated with losing oneself to the all-night dance. A proper refuge for the ostracized of society, a rebellion against mainstream conformity, escapism – it’s why electronic music always retreats back to the underground after flirtations with commercial success, as the very concept of the culture is directly counter to what society deems proper behavior (work your job, raise your family, watch your TV, etc.). Those who still partake in this scene often find a way of balancing the two, either making club culture their primary job (DJs, musicians, promoters), or only going to select events they feel will come as close to being their idea of a ‘perfect’ party as any; for yours truly, I’m definitely of the latter sort.

I suppose, on some sub-conscious level, that’s why I’ve been systematically going through all the music I’ve gathered: an attempt at piecing together my time involved with electronic music’s ever-evolving scene. What’s lead me down the musical paths I’ve taken? Why do I find some genres more favorable than others? Could things have been different if I’d been exposed to different parties and music? Why didn’t other counter-culture music, like punk or metal, appeal in a similar fashion?

Yeah, sorry there’s nothing ‘updated’ in this post. Guess I took the whole Memories Dreams Reflections concept to heart this time.

Banco de Gaia - Maya (Original TC Review)

Mammoth Records: 1994

(2014 Update:
Bleagh, another super-duper long review from the year 2006. My God, how many of these did I write? True, it was the first proper opportunity I got at splurging my Banco de Gaia knowledge for TranceCritic, but given how many Banco albums I've gone over for this blog now (8 albums and 2 singles!), the opening few paragraphs are incredibly redundant.

What will make this review even more redundant is the fact a limited 20th Anniversary edition of Maya's due to come out this week. Which I've obviously gone and ordered for myself. This isn't as fanboyish as it seems, since it's a triple-disc set (!!) full of unreleased remixes and live takes, plus my original copy of Maya had a digital defect on the final track anyway. At least with this old review up, I don't have to talk about the main album details. I mean, with how much I wrote here, what else is left to say?)


IN BRIEF: Early music from the World Bank.

[The opening paragraph contained unnecessary information, so I've removed it]

Of course, my enjoyment of Banco de Gaia shouldn’t be any secret to steady readers of TranceCritic. I’ve continuously name-dropped him all over the place, and for good reason: Marks’ music has had a significant influence on my tastes over the years. From the very moment I heard Shanti some dozen years ago (a different version, mind, not the one here), I was hooked for life. All those whom I exposed Banco tracks to often came to my same conclusion: the music from the World Bank was entirely in a class of its own, impossible to pigeonhole, and always captivating.

Ah yes, I can see your ‘Fanboy Warning’ alarms already flashing. Perhaps this is why I’ve held off covering any Banco releases for so long. Although we’ll never try to hide the fact any review of music will have some subjectivity, we still try to maintain an element of objectivity as far as our conscience allows. While I’d love to give Maya glowing praise for being a Banco release, the music critic in me can hear the faults and inconsistencies; if we’re to maintain our credibility, I’m going to have to point these out. But before I do that, a brief history leading up to this album (don’t worry, it’s relevant).

Before Maya, Marks was getting known through his association with the Megadog syndicate, often touring along with the likes of Eat Static. He did release a few cassette albums during those years but none could see official distribution due to many uncleared samples. However, this didn’t stop the Banco project from getting tapped for songs to be featured on Beyond’s seminal Ambient Dub series, where Marks’ profile grew exponentially. A full-length was inevitable and, in 1994, it came to pass.

But which audience was Marks to aim for? The Megadog partiers? The fans of his Ambient Dub contributions? Or should he shoot for a broader audience with the larger distribution now available? Maya has a feeling about it that seems Marks was attempting to please all parties involved. As is often the case in this situation, the end result can feel a bit disjointed and uncertain.

Opening track Heliopolis is as indicative of this as any. True, the sweeping vocal samples and exotic atmosphere is definitely a Banco trademark, but everything else comes off flat. The rhythm doesn’t have enough drive to it, and the squelchy arpeggiating synth sounds under-produced for a track where other attributes shine.

Mafich Arabi, one of the few tape-only tracks to be rescued, also has some problems, but at least the rhythm makes up for it in this case. Pretty much a straight-forward funky tribal stompfest, an assortment of drum loops beat away as chants and Middle-Eastern hooks accompany them. The chants are wonderful, easily lodging in your head so you can’t help but join in. The hooks, though, are a bit suspect. I don’t mind them, but if Middle-Eastern melodies aren’t your game, even an infectious rhythm and chant may have trouble drawing you in for the duration.

The dubby, groovy Sunspot is a pleasant diversion, but the violin solo in the middle may be a turnoff, as it sounds like it was thrown in just for the fun of it (really, Marks is good for one of these moments in every album). However, I can find no fault in Gamelah’s approach to trance. It isn’t a high-tempo song, but it doesn’t need to be. The tribal rhythms are brisk enough to groove to, and the combination of chants and spacey, sweeping synths is an effective pairing. Definitely one for the outdoor gatherings.

Still, the ambient dub material was where Banco garnered a large chunk of fans at this point, so Marks treats them to a mellow, dubbed-out bit of bliss with Qurna. Synthy pad washes, tranquil grooves, seaside sound effects, and warm melodies all come together to form a sonic treat for you to lie back to.

The final stretch mostly contains tracks from the Beyond compilations... after a fashion: Lai Lah and Shanti were both remixed for Maya.

Sheesha comes first though. I’ve never been able to grasp what Marks was shooting for in this track. The intro of it shows promise, as many layers of deep, dubby sound effects, samples, and burbly electronics are gradually added. Once the rhythm kicks in though, the plot seems lost. Nothing quite melds together like you’d think it could, and Sheesha ends up wandering aimlessly despite the strengths of the individual components.

Lai Lah, on the other hand, works brilliantly despite all the elements sounding a bit chaotic. Chalk it up to a great rhythm (probably the best on here) and some crafty sample work. A breakdown allows just the strumming samples to play with a recording of a couple’s argument underneath. As this goes on, a mournful synth melody gradually grows in prominence, finally capping off at the end of the argument before being thrust right back into the rhythm. Now that’s a unique breakdown and build!

What Marks does with Shanti may be hit or miss with listeners, as he takes the track into a kind of jam-band excursion. Each element - bassline, rhythms, vocal chants, dubby keyboards, warm pads - gets a chance to play on their own before segueing into the next while white-noise effects pulse in the background. I can see this not being all that interesting if you like your songs focused and compact, but I quite like this. Besides, as far as dubby noodling goes, this is still a relatively coherent go at it. And when the pads do make their appearance towards the end of the Shanti? Yeah... magic.

Finally we end on Maya, a collaboration with Andy Guthrie. Here, Marks gets to show off some of his prog-rock influences as he breaks out the guitar while twinkly bells and all the usual exotic soundscapes fill in the atmosphere. For what it is, this is a decent enough track, and probably one of the more unique ones in this early stage of the Banco life; it’s certainly closer in sound to current offerings than most of what’s been heard on this album.

And that’s probably something to keep in mind should you be new to Maya (the album, that is... damn, but is it ever annoying having title tracks at the end sometimes). If you got into Banco de Gaia after Marks made the project into a fully fleshed-out band, the tracks on offer here seem very simple in comparison - which, truthfully, they are. For the most part, you can hear Marks still playing by dance music’s rules, and it would be another couple years before his song-writing would find the confidence to do things his own way.

Despite this shortcoming, there is gold to be found underneath the rough edges. Some of the melodies on offer are wonderful to behold, and Marks had nailed the ambient dub template almost from the get-go. Maya may not be the most enduring Banco de Gaia album but fans of the project will still find little things about it that will keep them coming back to listen to again and again.

Banco de Gaia - The Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia

Six Degrees Records: 1999/2000

Despite the brilliance that was Big Men Cry, Toby Marks couldn't mope forever. He freed himself of old label woes, established his own print in Disco Gecko, and discovered something in the process: the idea of Banco de Gaia as a proper band could work. All these factors likely contributed to the sudden, upbeat change in tone for his fourth proper LP, The Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia. Even the title's playfully tongue-in-cheek: nothing sombre, political, or reflective here, just happy fun-times found within, trust.

And even if all that wasn't enough to convince you that you were in for a peppier album than normal, the first track is I Love Baby Cheesy, a truly ridiculous title if ever there was, and a right hoot to boot. I've already reviewed the single for that though, and truth is it was the only real single to emerge from Magical Sounds. Back in those days, you could count on at least a pair of EPs, so what's up with that? Were there no other single-worthy tunes on here?

B’ah, what a laugh - choice cuts were selected for other releases, is all. The lovey-dubby Sinhala and spacey ethno-breaks Touching The Void made the cut on the 10 Years retrospective, while a live rendition of funky, world beat, communal-chanter No Rain appeared on another retrospective in Memories Dreams Reflections. Oh, and Glove Puppet was re-purposed into trip-hop for the follow-up album Igizeh, which makes some sense as the version here’s about as solemn as Magical Sounds gets, what with mournful strings and samples of war playing in the background (yeah, still got that Pink Floyd thing going on).

The three other tracks aren’t slouches either, and in some ways are among my favourite Banco tunes around. Harvey And The Old Ones, for instance, ranks high among the most unique tunes to come from the World Bank. Layers of instruments and rhythmic chants continually build upon each other, conjuring the sort of imagery you’d expect of a tribal gathering out in the hills of India. Things briefly break down midway, then a thumpin’ techno beat emerges as everything rejoins the party for a raucous climax. It’s a fun track all around, the sort of tune that’d go off wonderfully at an outdoor hippie jam. 144k? is another buoyant track, though it wanders around with melancholic, atmospheric ambient dub for much of its duration. Considering the downbeat nature of the opening two-thirds, having such an uplifting end to the tune’s almost cathartic, despite Marks laying the sentiment on rather thick with a chanting sample of “We are beautiful people. We are chosen ones.” Follow-up Frog’s Dinner gets back to the world beat dub style he made his name on from the Planet Dog days, but this one wanders a bit much for my liking.

So I like Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia, but ya’ll knew I would anyway. I like everything from Marks, right? Eh, wait until we reach the ‘Y’s.

Banco de Gaia - Live At Glastonbury

Mammoth Records: 1996

Much better. Much, much better! Maybe it's the Glastonbury vibe capturing these acts at their best; they sure were the strongest recordings from The Orb's live compilation (hard to call Live 93 a proper album). So if you're a young EDM chap thinking of releasing a live album, better make it a gig from the famous British festival.

Truth be told, I was incredibly hesitant to pick this up at first glance. It’d only been a few months since I’d bought Banco de Gaia’s first two CDs, thus I was still in that ‘eh, not as good as I hoped’ mindset regarding Last Train To Lhasa. Now here’s another CD containing most of Lhasa, plus Mafich Arabi and Heliopolis, another pair of tunes I was lukewarm over as heard on Maya (I was dead-set on believing Toby Marks produced worldly ambient dub and nothing but). Still, what’s that last track, Data Inadequate? Never heard that one on either album, nor was it on the Ambient Dub series. Is it a new song? Nah, probably some live dialog; maybe a corny joke that the show’s over, therefore has inadequate data to carry on. Yeah, that’s it.

Anyhow, I bought Live At Glastonbury regardless, because that’s what you do when you find a new musical love. And sure enough, once the CD played through, my hesitations over its merits quickly dissipated. The crowd’s properly present, their cheers never overwhelming the music while placing you among the mass. A few technical hiccups with the opener Last Train To Lhasa aside, the sound’s clear and full, with enough open air resonance giving the tracks fresh vitality. Mafich Arabi’s funky drum work is essentially unchanged from its album counterpart, but is far more vibrant and energetic with all that extra, delicious bass reverberating off open spaces.

Even better, some of these tunes have been reworked to serve the party environment of Glastonbury. Marks adds layers of cacophonous rhythms and acid squelches to the start of White Paint, turning a formerly sombre piece of music into a raucous build. 887 gets double-timed beats along with funky “whoop whoop” drops, and Kincajou... is actually rather mellow, despite a pumping rhythm kicking throughout. Heh, not like I’d expect another half-hour ambient excursion of the tune at Glastonbury; The Orb, sure.

As for that final cut, Data Inadequate, hot damn, where did this come from? Right, Marks’ first tape-only album Medium, and the old-school vibes are clear as day, all sci-fi space opera synths and chugging UK acid house beats. Its light years away from the typical Banco world beat sound, and a wonderful way to cap off an already fun CD.

Live At Glastonbury may only hold interest for fans of Toby Marks’ project, but for my money (and maybe yours!), it’s also an excellent example of how to do a live album right. Great sound recording, unique variations of tracks, and even a few surprises thrown in: what more could you ask for?

Banco de Gaia - Last Train To Lhasa

Mammoth Records: 1995

I was so disappointed when I first got Last Train To Lhasa. All the expectations and preconceived notions of what Toby Marks' proper sophomore effort would bring, and none of them came about. In fact, what the Hell is this music on here? House beats? Techno? Weird wibbly ambient excursion? I thought Banco de Gaia was supposed to be a cooler sounding Deep Forest. This isn’t what I'd heard from him before. Okay, so it was only two tracks by that point, both on an ambient dub compilation, but it was enough to know exactly what my new favourite electronic act was all about. Don't judge me. I'm old enough to know what's up with music in the world, at this old age of seventeen.

Yeah, 1996 Sykonee had a lot to learn, but I'm continuously amused by that first impression of this album, one that obviously dissipated after a couple more play-throughs. Some things still hold it back from being a great Banco LP, yet there’s also things you’re not gonna find elsewhere in his discography either.

Like that thirty-six minute version of Kincajou on CD2! Essentially carrying on where the main album version faded off, story goes Duck! Asteroid came about during a studio jam. What, was Pete Namlook hanging out at the time? It definitely has the hallmarks of the ambient wizard’s lengthy noodle-fests, but somehow never meanders, feeling like you’re travelling about the galaxy in a space-born Tibetan monastery. The fact it’s followed upon by another spacey dub cut (Eagle) completes the sonic trip through the cosmos (I guess the tribal-trance Gnomes Mix of Kuos is the launch).

What about CD1, then? Well, Last Train To Lhasa’s here, made popular by its inclusion on the first Northern Exposure. I like it fine, but not as much as others do – good atmospheric moments and all, but rather lacking in the rhythm department. In fact, most of this album has that ‘some-good, some-meh’ production going on. Kuos has a fun idea somewhere, but is undone by using such an overplayed African sample for its hook. Amber builds wonderfully at the beginning (that bass!), then doesn’t go much of anywhere after; alternatively, 887 has a great finish, but ambles far too long to get there. White Paint’s pretty good, what with its soaring choral pads and dubby beat, but I’ve been spoiled by the chipper version on the Live At Glastonbury CD. China’s a pleasant little chill number, portraying the culture in a more positive light compared to the scathing indictment Marks mentions in the liner notes regarding Tibetan atrocities. Take a stance, guy.

Speaking of stances, I’m always surprised by how many point to Last Train To Lhasa as their favourite Banco album. Sillies, his follow-up albums were far better, ol’ Toby finally and firmly breaking away from standard dance music moulds marked by his early work. This one has its share of brilliant, sublime moments within the Banco discography, but not to the degree latter efforts offered.

Banco de Gaia - Kincajou

Planet Dog: 1995

Aw yeah. Now we're talking. Kincajou was already one of Banco de Gaia's more captivating tunes off Last Train To Lhasa, and whether it was the spacey, tribal techno version on the main album, or the epic thirty-six minute Duck! Asteroid!! ambient version on CD2, there was more than enough to go around. Yet here we are with a single to itself, with none other than Oliver F'n Lieb and Speedy F'n J, two producers at the height of their mid-'90s careers, getting their hands on it! (Toby Marks also provides a new remix of his own) How can this not be awesome? Uh...

I guess it’s presumptuous assuming an Oliver Lieb remix would sound exactly like something from his L.S.G. work, but damn it, tracks like Hearts and Hidden Sun Of Venus were among his most popular cuts in 1995. And if not borrowing elements from L.S.G., surely folks assumed something similar would come from remixing the closest thing to trance Banco de Gaia had ever done. Okay, he did, sort of, but tech trance, really? The sub-genre was barely even a thing yet, The Black Series still a couple years away. That he would go down this bangin' route had to befuddle almost everyone involved. Lord knows it still befuddles me. None of the spacey attributes remain, opting instead for squalling sirens, burbling acid, and pumping rhythms (not to mention those distinctive Lieb claps). Aside from a couple token re-used samples, Oliver’s go with Kincajou sounds totally unrelated. This was some left-over Spicelab material before, wasn’t it.

If you think that’s weird, then get a load of Speedy J’s mix. I’m not even sure what those in charge thought was going to result in getting the Dutch techno don on Kincajou - maybe a Fill type track? But hey, this is Marks doing techno, so maybe Paap can do it even more techno ...which he did done. It’s not a particularly weird remix, though if you’re unfamiliar with Speedy J’s sound, it too can throw you for a loop. It’s definitely one of the oddest pairings you’ll ever find in the Banco de Gaia discography, as his brand of proggy world beat and ambient dub is worlds apart from the world of techno. I’m more fascinated by the theoretical conversation that resulted in this remix than anything musically related. Did appearing back-to-back on the Positiva compilation Earth Trance have anything to do with it?

Oh, speaking of which, why couldn’t we get the Wild Monkey Fever Remix on here? Instead, there’s Here Come The Norse Gods, which is essentially the yang to Duck! Asteroid!!’s yin when it comes to Kincajou - it’s just as spacey as the original, but far more brisk and bangin’. Not as interesting though, which can be said for this whole single. Considering the names involved, you can’t help but come away disappointed. Whatever awesome music you preconceive with that first glance is likely better than what’s on disc.

Banco de Gaia - Igizeh

Six Degrees Records: 2000

Anyone recall hearing The Prodigy's Fat Of The Land for the first time? The initial anticipation of new music from an act you enjoy, but feeling content in the assumption they couldn't surprise you any longer? Remember how Smack My Bitch Up utterly abolished those preconceived notions? If you're feelin' what I'm preachin' here, my friends, then you'll have an inclining of how I reacted to hearing Seti I on Banco de Gaia's fifth album.

I'm by no means comparing the two tracks, as they're worlds apart (although they do both make use of an ethnic vocalization). In terms of how they kicked off their respective albums, however, and how they represent everything good about the producers behind them, they're quite similar. At first ear-glance, Seti I works a slow-building atmosphere with oodles of nature samples and chants. A stomping rhythm emerges, and a ridiculously catchy vocal hook joins in. For the duration, this tune absolutely gets the blood pumping. I don't think Toby Marks has ever opened another album stronger than Igizeh, yet Seti I is barely known; heck, it didn't even make it to his 10 Years retrospective or other such collections. So, um, I guess the Prodigy comparison ends there.

Since Seti I wasn’t a single from an album that saw at least two, Igizeh must be an astounding album. Eh, it's good, but not that good. It's actually a rather curious one when you consider the context it came out in. As odd as it sounds, the album finds Marks doing a fair bit of bandwagon jumping, yet somehow maintaining his distinctive sound throughout. The first single, Obsidian, appears to borrow quite a bit from progressive trance, with the (barely comprehensible) vocals from Jennifer Folker lending it further to something far more commercial than you'd ever expect from Banco de Gaia (until You Are Here anyway). One could say the same about the new version of Glove Puppet, a dead-ringer and mint take on trip-hop. Meanwhile, second-single How Much Reality Can You Take has elements of big beat, a notion not gone unnoticed by Jack Dangers when he remixed the tune.

Those were the popular genres of the time (or from a couple years back anyway), but Igizeh features further musical adoption than that. Fake It Till You Make It finds Marks and company going about as full-on Pink Floyd as they ever did back in those days. Gizeh adds Moog funk to their characteristic grand musical builds (Egyptian slave revolutions never sounded so epic!). And B2 sounds like, well, Banco de Gaia did during the early ambient dub days, but with a fresh year-2000 sheen.

So in a roundabout way, Igizeh might have ended up being Banco's most accessible album, but those proggy world-beat attributes didn't quite make it so. The style Marks' project cultivates keeps this firmly on the underground side of music, though as far as 'electronica' albums go, it's remarkably diverse. A bit like that Prodigy album, come to think of it.

Banco de Gaia - I Love Baby Cheesy

Six Degrees Records: 1999

Windows Media Player has some odd organization. Ignoring articles in titles, that makes sense to me – who wants long strings of ‘the’s, ‘a’s, and ‘an’s? Yet here we are in the ‘I’s, and it regards the pronoun ‘I’ as its own entity, lining up all my albums starting with “I…”. On the other hand, it treats the word ‘is’ as lesser than ‘I’, as demonstrated when Khooman’s album Is A Flexible Liquid cropped up in the ‘F’s. All of this, of course, has nothing to do with the music on Banco de Gaia’s I Love Baby Cheesy. If you’ve actually been wondering how this alphabetical thing works though, here’s your answer, since there’s not much to discuss regarding this single, and I have to eat up self-imposed word count somehow.

Truth is, aside from one or two cases, Toby Marks' project doesn't translate well to the singles format. His albums generally are enjoyed as a whole, and the odd tune that does get plucked out for EP use often comes off weaker without the surrounding tracks as context. Still, DJs gotta DJ, and they'd much rather have a shorter piece of wax or disc without all the fuss of partial blends and multi-tracks.

I Love Baby Cheesy was the lead single off Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia (and the lead track, incidentally), marking a return to big, exuberant fun-time music from Marks after the relatively somber Big Men Cry. As a jump off point for that album, it's fantastic, the combination of funky rhythms, catchy nonsensical vocal samples, hooky synths, and dashes of world beat grabbing you by the lapels for a flailing good time on the dance floor or open field. It's about as light-hearted as you'll ever find Banco de Gaia (and if you don't believe me, gander at those goofs in the video). Shame the stupid Radio Edit on this single ruins all of that, but his Skippy Mix makes up for it (aside from a few cosmetic changes, it's the same as the album version).

Two remixers join in on the cheddar love, the first care of Dub Pistols, a group who broke out during the big beat era and are still kicking it today. Best way to describe their take on this tune is… ‘hard-step’ breaks? Whatever, it’s typical late-‘90s fodder, and mostly forgettable.

The second comes care of a chap going by Wayward Soul, offering two rubs here. Lord Discogs says this is actually Anthony Thorpe. *blink* Wait, original acid house Thorpe, he of Addis Posse, Moody Boys, and such? You sure of that, oh Lord? Huh, if so, that’s quite a coup on Marks’ part to snag him. His remixes are pretty cool too, the first (Electric Cheddar Remix) a dubby, tribal breaks thing, and the second (The Afro-European Remix) going deeper into the dub and tribal haze. Yeah, I can vibe to these. They’re definitely unique offerings within the Banco discography, even for those who are not completists. (*tugs at collar*)

Banco de Gaia - Apollo

Disco Gecko: 2013

It sure hasn’t felt like seven years since a proper full length from the World Bank came out. True, Marks also gave us a live/cover album in Memories Dreams Reflections and an odds ‘n’ sods one in Songs From The Silk Road, but compared to the blistering pace he’d release during the ‘90s, this is a long gap. Then again, perhaps it couldn’t be helped - priorities change, inspiration fades, that sort of rot. Somehow though, ol’ Toby got his mojo back, and now we have a new Banco de Gaia album to enjoy! Or at least I’ll enjoy. Maybe you will too, if my review sells you on it.

Actually, if you’ve enjoyed Mr. Marks’ music in the past, I shouldn’t need to sell you on Apollo. This is about as close to recapturing his late ‘90s sound (which was his peak, as far as I’m concerned) in a very, very long time. The only vocals come care of ethnic samples and singing, anything of a political bent has been jettisoned, and genre experimentation is almost non-existent. Instead, we have somber ambient pieces, dubby downtempo, and stompin’ dance-jams, all marinated in that ‘worldly vibe as heard from space’ prog-rock way that’s been a Banco staple since Big Men Cry. In fact, were I to compare Apollo to a prior album (and of course I’m gonna!), it’s most like Magical Sounds, though arranged differently; whereas the older album started big and fun, this one’s more contemplative and reflective (would a song titled Lamentations be anything else?).

There are quite a few other things on Apollo that reminds me of that era. Lead single Wimble Toot features the returning saxophonist Matt Jenkins, who along with Pink Floyd saxophonist Dick Parry played on Big Men Cry’s Celestine. Later in the album, Ted Duggan, who first lent his drumming talent back in Igizeh, shows up in Hu! - and like so many Banco tunes to feature live instruments, both tracks sound like they’d kick ass in concert (c’mon, Tobes, bring the band to Canada sometime!). And though there’s no credits confirming it, Eternal Sunshine comes off like a collaboration between Banco and psy trance act Eat Static, something that could have potentially occurred back when they still shared the same label (a shame it never did); it’s also the only track that breaks the ‘conventional Banco’ mold on Apollo, but not by much.

Still, this album doesn’t reach the heights of his best albums, for the unfortunate reason that its overall theme seems muddled. A booklet linking pictures to the songs is included with the hard copy (plus tied to the digi-files should you go that route), but I’m at a loss what message is conveyed, beyond a romanticism of cultures past (similar nostalgic feelings for his career?). Also, some could argue the lack of apparent musical growth hampers Apollo, but considering few even make music like Marks these days and fresh Banco material’s rare, I’ll take falling back on successful formulae anytime.

Banco de Gaia - Farewell Ferengistan (Original TC Review)

Six Degrees Records: 2006

(2013 Update:
I think this was among the last of my track-by-track reviews, and it's too damn long as a result. Did Ynys Elen really need that much detailing? Of course not! Yeesh. One could probably chalk the length to inexperience in handling over-enthusiastic fandom while writing, as Banco de Gaia remains one of my all-time favorite acts. It'll be interesting to see how I'm forced to curtail it since his upcoming album, Apollo, definitely falls within one of my alphabetical stipulations.)


IN BRIEF: Banco’s back on form

To say the last Banco de Gaia album (You Are Here) was met with lukewarm responses may be generous. While not a bad album, it seemed to lack a coherent theme and purpose, resulting in a listen that was disjointed and confusing. Many followers of Toby Marks’ music wondered if he was feeling a musical burnout, or if You Are Here was merely an experiment that didn’t quite hit the mark. Judging from the material on his new album, Farewell Ferengistan, it seems the latter may have been the case.

Yes, my friends, Marks indeed found his groove once more. While the production definitely comes off more focused this time out, the major improvement is the lack of preach that hampered the last album. Marks often injected political thoughts and ideas in his works, but rarely at the expense of the music on hand. I suppose with the volatile political climate in the years You Are Here was made, Marks’ sloganeering got the better of him, hoping to spur on some extra activism. Unfortunately, it came off redundant, as most of the Banco audience is already boned up on such ideas. Farewell Ferengistan does away with that, letting the music speak for itself again as Marks provides little blurbs in the inlay (including an amusing disclaimer reading, “All facts and claims stated herein are liable to be untrue, partially true, or totally true depending on your viewpoint”; we should have a disclaimer like that too!). The thoughts he details can give some insight into the ideas he approached some of the songs with, but, for the most part, they aren’t crucial in enjoying the music on its own merits.

Also, Farewell Ferengistan creates captivating settings, a long-time Banco trademark, and something that was sorely lacking on the last album. Whether conjuring up dusty Arab caravans, ancient mountain villages, lonely starship freighters, primal tribal gatherings, or drunken monasteries, Marks’ ability to let your imagination take over with his music guiding is remarkable.

The first half of Farewell Ferengistan is quite good at this, drawing upon many influences that harken back to an era when traveling by horse was common, and the dominant empire was that of the Mongols (probably the largest in recorded history). Even the name Ferengistan comes from the name far-flung settlements in Central Asia dubbed Europe at the time (Ferengi became a derogatory term for Western traders, due to their greedy, materialistic tendencies of the time, and used by most Arabs and East Asians... and that’s your fun-fact for the day). As always, Marks’ production is sample-heavy, but unassuming in its presentation. I’ve always marveled at how he can take a well-worn, rinsed-out, over-abused sample, and make it sound fresh again, and this time is no different. Ethnic chants, wood winds, drum loops, spoken dialogue; it’s all here, although some may be a bit more difficult to I.D. this time if you’re a sample trainspotter. As has been the growing trend in Banco de Gaia, electronic elements play a much reduced roll, complementing the organic nature of the songs rather than leading them.

The somber, downbeat title track opens things up, setting up a nice atmosphere but doesn’t really hook you in from the get-go. Rather, the simple melody in Ynys Elen will do the trick, mainly because it’s essentially a 32-bar refrain, repeating throughout the whole track. What keeps you hooked though (besides its catchiness, of course), is the fact Marks is constantly adding something new with each go-around: a new set of drums, a different synth, an added pad, and much more. By always keeping things evolving, Ynys Elen comes across as more of a jam than an actual song, each successive loop bringing a new contribution to the fray.

The pace picks up with Chingiz, a fairly standard dance track with a fairly non-standard vocal lead (Mongolian chants, in case the title didn’t give it away). Not to be outdone, follow-up Kara Kum takes the rhythmic vibes a step further with building layers of forlorn guitar strums, lonely woodwinds, and tribal drums. At one point, the song breaks down to start over, relying on only the drums and an 808 beat to build tension. And build tension it does, as the track’s intensity never gives the listener a chance to catch their breath, relentless in its primal assault. Once the melodic elements return, Kara Kum is in high-gear for a rousing climax. Shame about that abrupt ending though.

The Harmonious G8 is best described as a conceptual interlude. The idea is to fuse together the individual performances of a singer form each of the G8 nations, which was carried out at one of the recent summits. Of course, it isn’t a flowing sound when it comes together, but certainly more coherent than you’d expect.

Moving into the second half of the album, Marks leaves the past and heads into the future with a pair of sci-fi influenced tracks. Saturn Return is a spacey ambient piece, and is quite effective in placing you amongst the stars before grounding you back on Earth with some casual rhythms and a female chant to take you out. Journalists will probably end up adding Terry Riley to the every-growing list of musicians they often strain comparing Banco de Gaia to.

And perhaps even Wendy Carlos as well. Sure, the opening of Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept sounds like a typical Banco tune, with pleasant electronics, groovy rhythms, rich ambience, and a rousing male vocal. However, the song soon moves into a synthy rendition of Flow My Tears. Composed by the British lute player John Dowland in the 16th Century, it has the odd contrast of being both mournful and uplifting at the same time. A simple enough idea, but Marks turns this song into a tribute of sorts to Philip K. Dick, whom penned many sci-fi novels, including the one that went on to be turned into Bladerunner. What kind of tribute (beyond Dick’s enjoyment of the original piece, of course)? By having the lyrics to Flow My Tears sung in a robotic voice, rendering them almost unintelligible! Actually, Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept comes off remarkably well. Even if the lyrics are hard to understand, they still add to the song’s atmosphere, and work as an additional element complementing the main melody. Hey, if it worked for Vector Lovers, why not here as well? It’s a sonic experiment never tried under the Banco banner, and succeeds.

White Man’s Burden changes the album’s setting again with its lengthy, ambient opening. Layers of lush, natural soundscapes keep building, hinting at an emotional peak. Instead, once the rhythms take over, the tone of the track goes one-eighty, turning into something more ominous to lead out. If you’re familiar with the origins of the song’s title, the context of this musical change won’t be lost on you.

Farewell Ferengistan ends on a charming note with We All Know The Truth. The title reads like something you might find on an Enigma album, but the track itself rather sounds like one of William Orbit’s poppier moments, including lyrics sung by Maya Preece of Dragonflys. As a song to cap off the album, I suppose it works. Despite being overly chipper at times, We All Know... feels like a reassuring lullaby, reminding us there’s still warmth in a world that can feel cold at times. How the song fits in the Banco discography, one phrase uttered by Roger Meyers, Jr. sums up my own thoughts: “It’s different, I’ll give it that.”

But different is good when done with finesse. While Farewell Ferengistan does see a return of the of Banco style we’ve been familiar with over the years, there’s enough fresh ideas executed to surprise long term fans as well. For the most part though, this is a contemplative album. Marks seems aware we’re at a turning point of sorts in human history, and while it helps to look to the past for guidance, we should still keep our eyes forward. The future isn’t as scary a place we sometimes think it is so long as we approach it with the right intentions.

Banco de Gaia - Memories Dreams Reflections

Disco Gecko Recordings: Cat. # GKOCD010 

Released September 2009 

Track List: 

Disk One (studio) 

1. Spirit Of The Age (7:17) 

2. Starless (11:19) 

3. Echoes (22:26) 

4. Soufie (Now That’s What I Call 2009) (8:39) 

5. Tempra (7:10) 

6. Terra Om (5:35) 

Disk Two (live) 

1. Analogique (6:50) 

2. Indecision (6:54) 

3. Soufie (Blue Mix) (7:23) 

4. Qurna (8:59) 

5. China (7:24) 

6. Celestine (11:50) 

7. How Much Reality Can You Take? (6:36) 

8. No Rain (7:37) 

9. Drunk As A Monk (7:09) 

10. Last Train To Lhasa (7:08) 

IN BRIEF: Quite a career. 

Geez, can’t Toby Marks release a typical album this decade? Okay, so there’s been three thus far - Igizeh, You Are Here, and Farewell Ferengistan - but there was also the 10 Years retrospective, the remix package to go with that, and now a 20th anniversary retrospective. For those confused as to how a 20-year package can come out a mere seven years after the 10-year one, apparently the very first instance of Banco de Gaia as a name came when Marks initially paired with Andy Guthrie and played a few live gigs way back in ye’ old year of 1989. Fair enough, though considering the last proper album was over three years ago, wouldn’t it be nicer to have some fresh material? 

Well, that’s the quirky thing about this release. Technically, this is all new, or at least previously unavailable. The first disc contains a few covers of old prog/space rock songs, plus re-releases of old Banco tunes that were never officially released; the second is all live material cobbled together from various gigs spanning ’92 to ’04. With that, I’m sure Memories Dreams Reflections has the impression of a ‘fans only’ release, which would be doing this album an injustice. True, there probably isn’t much here that would interest someone who isn’t terribly interested in the odds’n’sods development of Banco de Gaia, yet the music is hard to dismiss out of hand. 

Besides, it’s been nearly fifteen years since we’ve had a proper live album from the world bank. With so many gigs to choose from though, the only fair way to give ample exposure to Marks’ touring career is to take various tracks from various shows and arrange them into a set itself. CD2 (the live one) certainly is an eclectic assortment of Banco tunes. There’s obvious favorites such as Last Train To Lhasa (given an additional bumpin’ rhythm here, easily making this the best version I’ve heard) and big-beat inspired How Much Reality Can You Take?; live staples like Celestine and Drunk As A Monk, where the Banco band usually gets plenty of opportunity indulge themselves (flutes, saxophones, and guitars, oh my!); a few overlooked gems - Qurna and No Rain - get some deserved re-exposure as well. And, of course, there’s the early-early tracks: Analogique, Indecision, and Soufie; aside from Soufie appearing on a couple old ambient dub compilations, these have never had a proper release. 

In fact, I don’t think Indecision did get a release period, as it doesn’t appear on any of the three Banco tapes. Shame, since this probably would have fit snugly in any number of prog-house DJ sets from the mid-90s, so if you fancy yourself a fan of that sound (hi, J’!), this track will undoubtedly sweeten the deal for you. Analogique is fun too, if anything for IDing various sounds and samples Marks would recycle for later tunes -though obviously the “hardcore, you know the score!” riffs were never seen again. 

Speaking of early tracks, gander at disc one where we get three more oldies, here given a modern spit-shine -very modern, in the case of Soufie. Eh, I’m all for hearing that lovely melody again, but this ‘dancey version’ isn’t much to get fussed about - stick with the original (if you can find it) or at least the ambient one on the live disc. 

There’s another three oldies on this CD: prog rock oldies! Doing that cover of Pink Floyd’s Echoes for Six Degrees Records Backspin compilation must have inspired Marks some, as not only do we have an extended 22-minute version of that here (with all the noodly prog-ambient sections you can handle) but also King Crimson’s Starless and Hawkwind’s Spirit Of The Age. These are quite well done, especially so Starless which includes a wonderful somber build, though like much of this release will probably only be of interest to fans of Banco. 

Anything else? Nah, I say not. Memories Dreams Reflections is a tidy enough collection of obscure Banco, with plenty of material to please followers of Marks’ career. As for casuals, the live disc is the one you should get your hands on. It rounds up a few more choice tunes that weren’t on 10 Years, and is a better overall representation of Banco’s live shows than the Live At Glastonbury album. 

Score: 7/10 

ACE TRACKS: 

Last Train To Lhasa 

Indecision 

Starless 

Written by Sykonee, 2010. © All rights reserved.