Vermont - Vermont

Kompakt: 2014

[Obligatory United States Of America geographical joke]

Ah, haha-ha! Hoo, what a zinger that was, eh? And the way I tied it into [Contemporary Political Talking Point] with [Middling Movie Franchise], it just can’t be topped. What does this have to do with Vermont by Vermont? Well, we wouldn’t have gotten to this place without the guiding hands of such Very Important record labels like [Three Name Drops] and [Notable Artist/DJ], so you see, [Crushing Conclusion That’d Make Simon Reynolds Weep With Envy].

Vermont (by Vermont) is now three years old. Yet it doesn’t feel so long this was being talked up in the same, small window of reverent breath along side Tycho’s Awake, Todd Terje’s It’s Album Time, and Efdemin’s Decay. Yes, it was a fun time being a Very Important music journalist covering hip, underground electronic music that appealed to the chiller side of tastes. Naturally I was having none of that, concerned with reviewing Ishkur’s old CDs instead, but I cannot deny the cover-art for Vermont’s Vermont intrigued me enough to pluck a copy. I figured by the time I got around to reviewing this album (late 2015, lol), the hype would have passed and I could take in this music proper-like. But now this duo’s gone and recently released a sophomore album (II), which kinda’ makes this look like hitching onto a freshly revved hype wagon. I swear its pure coincidence, just like [Inflammatory Political Talking Point].

For those who missed it the first time around, Vermont (4) is comprised of Danilo Plessow and Marcus Worgull. The latter has DJ’d for a number of years now, and through Innervisions put out sporadic singles along the way. Mr. Plessow is more of a production journeyman, flitting from project to collaboration to remix to project over the past decade. I recognize Motor City Drum Ensemble among his credits, and his work with Joachim Tobias as Inverse Cinematics garnered positive buzz from deep nu-jazzy sorts, so a decent pedigree in the funky soul camps. That begs the question, then, of why he’d make a debut with Mr. Worgull as Vermont for an album of throwback ambient techno and Berlin-School weirdness? Just because they wanted to? What sort of [Calvin & Hobbes Artistry Quote].

The thing I recall most about Vermont’s Vermont CD is the general sense of disappointment it brought to those hotly anticipating it. The music is very humble and unfussy, going about its business without much care for ‘pushing boundaries’ or ‘changing the game’, as so many thought Plessow and Worgull would. It’s the sort of ‘ambient pop’ that Kompakt have had no problem promoting for years now - pleasing to the ear, crafty to the head, charming to the soul, with enough unique attributes to stand out from the pack (Guitars! Drums! Old-School Bleepiness! Theremin!), though not necessarily stick with you even after playing it over a few times. Vermont is an album that the phrase “good enough” was destined for. Sometimes that’s all you need.

MO-DU - MOD01

Mata-Mata Records/...txt: 2015/2016

No, not Mo-Do, though I wouldn’t mind reviewing that charmingly cheesy Italian eurodance act at some point either. Come on, you already have Eins, Zwei, Polizei playing in your head at the mere mention of it. Their lone album of Was Ist Das? can’t be going for more than a buck or two on the used Euro market now. Maybe I should look into that.

But no, this is MO-DU, a side-project of Moduretik. Or maybe a new project, since the man behind it, Jan Jiskra, hasn’t put out any new Moduretik material for a few years now, save a retrospective in 2016. As Moduretik, he put out a few albums on micro-label Bleeder Ear of way-retro sounding darkwave tunes. It’s all rather under-produced, which I have no doubt is the point, capturing the messy vibe of musicians inspired by synth-pop of the early ‘80s, but trapped in the Eastern European bloc. Gotta’ make do with whatever gear you can grab, and get that stuff out on the streets of Prague while you can, before militsiya surrogates come a knockin’. There’s a punky, romanticism about it, which may be somewhat fabricated, but that doesn’t stop modern musicians from making tributes and odes to the era.

Then ol’ Jan tried his hand at another form of obscure European electronic music of those free-wheelin’ years, kosmische Musik, pairing up with Adam Holub as Neden, resulting in a self-titled album (on vinyl!). Jiskra must have been inspired by that session, as he didn’t wait around for Holub for another round of music making, striking out solo for more of that Berlin-School stylee as MO-DU. He’s released two albums now under the moniker, essentially self-released on his Mata-Mata Records print, with the first LP already out of print (because tapes). Somewhere along the way, Lee Norris stumbled upon it (was sent a demo?), because now we have a re-issue of MOD01 on ambient print …txt. What a strange journey this has been for Mr. Jiskra.

Stranger still, this album doesn’t sound like a pure ‘70s throwback, at least compared to Jan’s work as Moduretik. For sure the equipment used keeps things in that warm, analog era of electronic music, but the songcraft feels more of the ‘90s brand of ambient techno. Heck, opener Scoloyd wouldn’t have been out of place on Boards Of Canada’s last album, though to call MO-DO a Boards clone is quite a disservice, as there’s none of the trip-hoppy beats the Scottish duo are known for.

Nay, Mr. Jiskra keeps his rhythms as faithful to the old-school as he can, whether it’s clip-cloppy beats in Hangaduga, Sorson, and Kapusta, or something closer to synth-pop as in Asitrea. Elsewhere, he lets pulsing modulations and dubby effects act as his guide (Hicarn), or opts for the gentle ambient glide (Boditanka, Tongo, Ubitanka). It reminds me of the stuff those way underground ambient techno labels of the ‘90s would put out (hi, em:t!). Ah, no wonder this ended up on …txt.

UOVI - UOVI

Offshoot Records: 2015

I’ve taken on plenty of experimental stuff, from grinding drone works to fussy krautrock noodling to studies in clinical musique concrete wonk. Music produced from inanimate objects that shouldn’t produce any sound at all though? Some of the more extreme dronists out there love amplifying quiet spaces, and absolutely I’ve seen those videos of record players taking on slices of tree rings transposed onto vinyl. Some of my favorite non-music ‘music’ comes from electromagnetic recordings of the planets, ghostly hissing and whispers from the farthest reaches of our solar system, but you don’t have to skim the rings of Saturn to hear such stuff. As so many higher spirituality musicians love proclaiming, the world is sound, everywhere you look, every which way you turn your ears, from the highest mountaintop (if a tad sonically thin), to the crushing depths of our deepest ocean trenches (that bass!).

The man behind UOVI, a chap who simply goes by Peachy, claims he’s dabbled in this sort of ‘music everywhere, anyway’ methodology for as long as he remembers. And though his website, Wandering Eldar, is scant in background bio, at least there’s some handy info dumps on his various projects. The one that’s gotten most attention as of late is the collaboration with Kat B. called The Stone Tapes, a concept that came about by chance, being gifted a cardboard box containing old electromagnetic tapes from his studio neighbor, an elderly gent by the name of George Albert Wilberforce. I have no idea who that is; nor does even The Indomitable Google bring up any details beyond his association with The Stone Tapes. Whatever the intent, these tapes contained recordings of various historical British locales, all used with modified equipment such that there was no other field recording of their particular nature. Inspired to make some use of this gift, Peachy converted them for their own use, resulting in an… odd collection of conceptual music, to say the least.

Well hey, how about that UOVI thing then? What’s that one all about? To quote: “If the machine is fed with sigils of an occult nature, alchemy is performed.” In a nutshell, Peachy is taking inspiration from a Soviet engineer called Evgeny Murzin, who’s ‘gimmick’ was turning symbols into sound by using glass plates, black putty, and a primitive synthesizer. It was a crude technique, but what can you expect from the mid 20th Century?

So UOVI aims to carry on this approach, this debut album a first stab at the process. Seems he was more concerned with conventional music-making though, mostly sticking with ancient ambient and ‘90s downtempo IDM in the foreground while the experimental stuff lurks on the fringes. Some pieces go a little Berlin-School (1974, A Separate Reality) or full-on kraut (Witches, Haunted Circuits), plus one track even treads near the realms of aggrotech (While In Berlin). For the most part though, if you don’t mind a little more vintage ambient techno in your diet, UOVI’s some good stuff.

Tangerine Dream - Rubycon

Virgin: 1975/1995

Often considered the definitive stamp of Berlin-School establishing itself as a Thing. Phaedra may have helped set the stage for synth wizards sequencing their synthesizers into outwordly compositions, but that album still had a little left-over psychedelic rock lurking too, with comparatively smallish pieces not so dependent on Moog manipulations. Rubycon does away with the short tunes altogether, serving up two lengthy tracks that would eat up the full running time of your standard ‘70s record side. Not that it was Tangerine Dream’s first tackling of this most pretentious of prog rock pretensions – their earlier experimental work with less synthesizers would drone on for complete A and B sides too. Heck, even Phaedra, the song, ate up one whole side of its record. Actually composing and performing such behemoths weren’t easy though, especially with archaic equipment like the Mellotron, Double Moog, Synthi A, Arp 2600, Vcs 2 Synthi, and gong. Simply putting the effort into one composition, then easing back into a few shorter works for the same album is totally understandable.

Tangerine Dream though, they were feeling mighty bold after the success of Phaedra - the plumb record sales that came with the Virgin deal undoubtedly helped ease whatever creative strain the trio might have faced. If one such track could earn them all the praise and plaudits, why not produce double the amount with their next effort? Surely Froese, Franke, and Baumann were now familiar enough with their toys and tools that, whatever kinks or troubles that might have occurred in the recording of Phaedra were well ironed out now. Indeed they were, Rubycon critically hailed as an even better album than Phaedra, though didn’t sell quite as well. Look, they can’t all be genre defining records.

Side A features Rubycon, Pt. 1, opening as most kraut albums of the day typically do: minimalist tones, vibrating timbre, weird ambience, placing the listening in a bizarre cosmic domain. Strings and soft voice pads eventually enter, followed by the pulsing sequencer and soaring spaced-out organs and synths most associate with the Berlin-School sound. Tune gently fades out with a few effects, and I can’t help but think of Pink Floyd’s One Of These Days as it does. I’m sure the similarities are entirely coincidental; no way prog musicians style-bit one another, nosiree.

On the flip of my CD, Rubycon, Pt. 2 opts for a creepier start than its predecessor, with discordant Mellotron choirs intoning some alien ritual. The rhythmic synths kick in much earlier in this piece, building in prominence as additional synth solos with delay effects join the fray. The final third is mostly taken up by calm, modern classical doodling, all the while maintaining Tangerine Dream’s outworldy aesthetic. Feel free to make the requisite 2001: A Space Odyssey comparison at any point as Pt. 2 plays.

Naturally, Rubycon’s yet another Very Important Album in electronic music's every growing history. The inspiration and imitation of many future producers is difficult to miss in this one.

Prins Thomas - Principe del Norte

Smalltown Supersound: 2016

Along with Todd Terje and Lindstrøm, Prins Thomas formed a trifecta of Nordic producers with a love of chintzy disco music set among the stars. Heck, Thomas and the ‘strøm One started out as a producing duo, way back a decade past, and the trio have mingled off and on since. Prins put out a consistent stream of singles in the meantime, finally biting the solo album debut bullet in 2010, and remaining remarkably consistent in his output since, a fresh long player of music every two years. And lo’, earlier in this Dread Year Of 2016 (when the Dread Year wasn’t so dreaded), Mr. Thomas came correct with another album for our enjoyment, this time a double-LP effort. ‘Cause when five of your nine tracks average twelve minutes long, you gotta’ spread that stuff out over multiple plates of wax.

Principe Del Norte is also a small departure from Thomas’ typical brand of cosmic disco, the first CD casting its eyes to another form of ‘70s music less focused on dancefloors but no less rhythmic: Berlin space synth. Lots of pulsating arps, spritely pads, escalating sequencers, and all that good stuff. What it definitely is not, is ambient – far too much rhythm going on for that – though a nice chill vibe does permeate throughout. A1 provides a solid, throbbing low-end with its contrasting arps, A2 treads towards ambient techno’s domain, while B gets indulgent with effects for much of its running time. On side A of vinyl two, C starts feeding freely off those vintage kraut vibes, and D shows no fear in going as full space synth as one can without kicking out a standard beat – plenty of percussion though.

(note: a truly admire Thomas’ pisstake approach in how he titles his material – one of these days I’ll hear 2 the Limited, mark my words)

Alright, now that ol’ Prins got his artistic wankery good and out, time to turn on disc two for some right-proper club vibes. And Principe del Norte, Part Two doesn’t waste any time providing us with some boogaloo, E reusing elements of A1 and A2 for a bumpin’ bit of deep disco funk out on the moon. F opts for the swelling pads ‘n effects road, so show no shame if you need to reach for those lasers while grooving to this one. And G, well gee, if this one don’t beat all with its steady rhythm and shimmering arps – why, trance, is that you sneaking in again? Don’t worry, the nu-disco hipsters actually like you a little now. H, on the other hand, knows it’s taking us out at that 4am timeslot, and brings a deep tech-house grumbler filled with distant dub. No doubt Berghein approved.

So I liked this double-LP a good deal, as did many folks with more journalistic cred’ than I. No doubt Principe Del Norte is gonna’ feature on all the Very Important Year End lists. Better get this to claim you’re still ahead of the curve, then.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook - The Dark Side Of The Moog VIII

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1999/2016

This series wasn’t the only instance of Misters Schulze and Kuhlmann collaborating, Namlook also lending a hand on Klaus’ 1996 album Are You Sequenced. Essentially Schulze’s stab at updating his sound, the album was met with plaudits from his long-standing followers, and indifferent snickers from actual techno dorks. So it goes, but for the purpose of showcasing everything he and Pete worked together on, we get a few tracks from that record included as a bonus CD of the second box set in this reissue extravaganza. SQ 1 runs seventeen minutes, doing the trancey space-synth stuff we’ve heard elsewhere on Dark Side Of The Moog, Namlook provides a pulsing Chill Mix for Voices In The Dark, while SQ 4 goes full classic trance – why only the Short Cut though? In any event, this is a perfectly fine bonus disc, and thankfully wasn’t another reissue of a prior album, because I’ve been at these Dark Side Of The Moogs long enough, eh?

And so it’s come to this: my final entry into the epic Klaus-Pete saga. Unless I spring for the third box set, but nay, I’m not in any hurry for that. Or maybe so, if Dark Side Of The Moog VIII is an indicator of things to come. Stretching that “this series are ‘90s TV seasons!” analogy further, Season 8 of most shows often feature a radical twist or ratings stunt to shake up the status quo, and this album comes through once again. For you see, my friends, th’ar be d’n’b in here!

But first, a twenty-five minute opener of psy dub, world beat, and cosmic music. Wait, are we certain Bill Laswell’s no longer around? Other parts of Careful With The AKS, Peter feature short sound-effect doodles (Part II), straight-up psy dub freak-outs (Part IV), throwback modern classical (Part III, Part V, Part VIII), and one Hell of a techno stomper in fifteen-minute long Part VI. Throw in some wailing synth solos (or is that a guitar?) that would have Steve Hillage weak in the knees, and call me flabbergasted we’re still dealing with a two-man party of Schulze and Namlook. And that’s before they start dropping drillin’ Amen Breaks in Part VII! Seriously, jungle is the last thing I’d ever expect these guys taking on – hardcore is a less daft notion, given their proximity to German hard dance – yet here we are, eight album deep in the series, actual freewheelin’ d’n’b on the CD, and sounding not a touch out of place. This, from a Fax+ release? Astounding! Or a ‘shark jumping’ moment if you’re brutal cynical, but I like Part VIII too much to care about scene purity.

And that about wraps up our week-plus long journey to the Dark Side Of The Moog. From here, the two would collaborate less frequently, reconvening every few years for another studio session, plus a couple live shows too. After Namlook’s untimely death though, that was all she wrote for the longest running series in Fax+’ legacy.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook featuring Bill Laswell - The Dark Side Of The Moog VII

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1998/2016

This series resembles a ‘90s TV show more than I initially gave it credit for. The first few albums/seasons were the feeling-out process, launching with the premise, figuring out what makes the concept work, and hoping you find enough of an audience before getting canceled. Okay, I doubt Namlook would have pulled the plug on The Dark Side Of The Moog if sales were poor, the chance at collaborating with Klaus Schulze a passion project more than anything. Plus, given Fax +49-69/450464’s strict limitation of pressed copies, how could you determine popularity through sales anyway? By how fast they sell out? What they go for on the second-hand market? Incessant pleas from fans for more copies, just this one time, oh please!?

Back to the TV analogy. While The Dark Side Of The Moog had tweaked and refined some aspects of its concept for the first few seasons/albums, it wasn’t until its fourth that things coalesced into something truly distinct in of itself. The Schulze/Namlook tandem was finally working as a mutual work, with both participants accentuating each other’s strengths while helping hide their weaknesses. The loose, freeform approach to each album prior settled into a concrete core if not in vision, then at least in structure. And who can forget that brilliant bit of stunt-casting with legendary bassist Bill Laswell, adding a fresh dynamic to the established interplay between the two main stars.

As with most successful TV shows, we’re in the Golden Years of the series now, but almost uniformly it’s around Season 7 where we find the first flecks of froth in the inevitable backwash of creative success. The Dark Side Of The Moog VII has these hallmarks too. For sure it maintains what’s worked before with the same degree of polish and finesse, but a few cracks of staleness unfortunately crop up too. For one, at an even fifty minutes long, this is the shortest album in this series, period. Laswell’s input is almost completely moot by this point too. He still contributes to two of the six tracks, but beyond some dubby effects lurking in the mix of Part I and space drone in Part III, I don’t hear much of his distinct sonic ticks. I know these tracks are Pink Floyd puns, but Obscured By Klaus seems entirely apt in this outing.

Part I and II mix into one another, moving from Berlin-School ambient to electro. The album then radically changes tone with Part III, nineteen minutes of spacey ambient that moves into another round of spacey electro in Part IV. I’d like this more if one of the synth solos wasn’t among the lamest I’ve ever heard (even from trance camps!). The final two parts, at nearly twelve minutes total, mostly shows off Schulze’s modern classical chops, again fine but nothing we haven’t heard before - which I can say for this album in general too. It’s little surprise only one piece was tapped from here for that Evolution retrospective of the series.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook featuring Bill Laswell - The Dark Side Of The Moog VI

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1997/2016

The Dark Side Of The Moog has seen many ideas for its cover art, details of which I’ve included in the hover text in the image for each review (you… did know you could hover text all this time, right?). Let’s delve into this one a little further though. No, it’s not because I need to burn self-imposed word count after six albums of Schulze-n-Namlook sessions. This is important!

So, this is the CD cover art that comes within MIG’s reissue box sets. They’re all essentially identical, but for the fact Earth inches further down the image with each album. For instance, it started beside Klaus’ name with the first CD, is at about the mid-point here in the middle-albums, and will lay near the bottom by the final CD. A cute enough premise, but it wrecks all sorts of logic if you understand orbital mechanics.

Look at the illuminated sides of the moon and Earth – north to south, right? Thus, from this particular perspective, the solar orbital ecliptic is a horizontal line in the middle of the picture. As Luna’s circling dance with us also remains on the plane of the ecliptic, that would mean Earth should, in fact, be moving right to left in each subsequent CD, not north to south. How did the art design screw this up so bad? Like, they got the orbital mechanics correct with the box set’s main art, so they can’t be ignorant of such a fundamental property of space physics. Did they imagine Earth to have undergone a cataclysmic change of its axial rotation, flipping it by ninety degrees like Uranus? That would allow for a ‘north-south’ motion of Earth from the moon’s perspective with its side illuminated as such, but then where’s the debris field of such an event? Where’s the debris field?

Sorry, but if RedLetterMedia has taught me anything, it’s that there’s humor in nitpicking micro-minutia. Fun times!

Anyhow, Dark Side Of The Moog VI brings us The Final DAT, giving me pause whether Schulze and Namlook were thinking this might finally end their frequent collaborations. Nah, I doubt it, the two still finding new ways of tinkering with their formula even at this late stage. Well, ‘late’ being relative, the project only three years removed from its initial conception. Plenty o’ fire left to burn, especially with these two incessant music makers involved (Laswell too).

The Final DAT has a mish-mash of individual tracks, very long compositions, and pieces extending through different Parts. Part V is the lengthiest at over twenty-four minutes, and is all kinds of space-synthy awesome while at it. Part II and III goes from grand cosmic beat (like, world beat, only… cosmic) into brisk space-synth of its own – oh, and neither III or V feature standard kicks either. Crafty. Part IV with Laswell does have soft, minimalist techno going on, but adds a de-e-e-ep sub-bass line to the trip. Wait, is this proto-microfunk? No, wait, there’s electric guitar jamming too. Never mind.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook featuring Bill Laswell - The Dark Side Of The Moog V

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1996/2016

One box set down, one to go. Sorry, fans of Dark Side Of The Moog IX-XI, but I ain’t springing for the third volume of this reissue series just yet. Getting the first two was pricey enough, and if television rules apply to music, then anything past Season 8 is guaranteed Zombie Years. Concept worn dry, sprinkled with gimmicks in futile hopes of spicing up the stagnation, not to mention a Sweeps Baiting surprise wedding for one of the more popular ‘ships on the series. Mind, I’m almost certain Bill Laswell never hooked up with Schulze or Namlook in such a manner, not even in some weird subset of synth fanfiction. (please don’t tell me Rule 34 has produced such a thing…)

Actually, Laswell’s contributions to Dark Side Of The Moog were on the wane by this point, offering his input on just two tracks for session number V (aka: Psychedelic Brunch). We’re also further from the ‘single song’ concept the project started out with, this album the trackiest of the lot yet. Whereas prior CDs had a sense of continuous themes explored throughout, segueing into each part as it played out, this one has distinct tracks from one another, no ideas carried over or re-explored elsewhere in the album. Perhaps the closest we get is Part III and Part VIII, though almost entirely due to them using similar, stuttery downbeat rhythms between them. At first I thought these were the two cuts Laswell had a hand in, as he is the most rhythmically minded of the three, but nay, only Part III is where he crops up, plus droning dark ambient piece Part VII, sounding rather similar to his work as Divination at that. Also, but damn, Parts III and VIII has a lot in common with the sort of psy-chill I’ve heard coming from the Ultimae and Altar ranks over the years – talk about your ‘ahead of its time’ narratives, but then that’s long been the talking point regarding Berlin School synth work anyway.

If there is any sort of unifying theme to Psychedelic Brunch, it’s in letting the individual aspects of the players involved strut their stuff. Schulze’s use of traditional synths in a classical sense (re: Berlin-School) prominently feature in Part II, IV and VI. Meanwhile, Part V, the centerpiece of this album at over sixteen minutes of length, plays to Namlook’s meditative approach to ‘90s ambient music, the sort of stuff likely heard in chill-rooms rather than art-houses. And heck, even the inventor of the Moog, Robert Moog, shows up, in an introductory bit of dialog. He also shills his email for some reason, though considering this was 1996, maybe they thought doing so added to the futurism of the project? Wait, wasn’t ‘retro-futurism’ the whole point in the first place, bridging the generation gap while taking the ‘70s and ‘90s into an undiscovered country? Where can Dark Side Of The Moog even go now? Man, all this projected crisis of faith over an email.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook featuring Bill Laswell - The Evolution Of The Dark Side Of The Moog

Ambient World/MIG: 2002/2016

I wasn’t considering detailing the bonus discs of these Dark Side Of The Moog box sets. True, I’ve a commitment to reviewing Every.Single. CD. of my music collection, but I’ve fudged things here and there. Most double-disc entries receive a lone write-up from yours truly, and even 3CD sets are sometimes reduced to a singular offering of my self-imposed word count (sorry, Trade: Past-Present-Future; not-sorry, This Is… Techno). What harm is there in quickly glossing over redundant features, of which I’m almost certain these bonus discs are. What does Vol. 1 of this bundle include anyhow?

The Evolution Of The Dark Side Of The Moog, eh. Huh, it’s got completely different cover art from all the stock ones used for the other CDs. It also apparently contains tracks from each of the first eight editions of the series (or ‘excerpts’ in the case of Wish You Were There and A Saucerful Of Ambience, since those two weren’t indexed as typical albums). I guess this would serve as a handy hour-long summation of Namlook’s work with Schulze, picking out the highlights, or at least the best musical representation of the project. Why stop at Dark Side Of The Moog VIII though, when the series made it all the way to XI? There’s more than meets the eye with this CD, and I must find out. I must!

*clickity-clickty clack; searching Lord Discogs ain’t wack*

Well I’ll be darned. The Evolution Of The Dark Side Of The Moog was indeed a separate release, put out on Fax +49-69/450464 reissue sublabel Ambient World. And as it came out in 2002, there was only eight volumes of Dark Side Of The Moog available anyway. This… also means that I now must review this CD as its own entity, but out of alphabetical order since it’s contained within this first box set. My OCD is sending conflicting demands.

Charmingly, it opens with a bit of dialog from Robert Moog himself, offering an introduction to The Dark Side Of The Moog, plus his email address or some reason. This was used in the fifth album of the series, and has now thusly ruined the surprise for the next review. Thanks, MIG!

Only a three minute synthy piece from Wish You Were There makes the cut for this Dark Side Of The Moog mega-showcase, but A Saucerful Of Secrets gets a whopping fifteen minutes plucked from its lengthy runtime. Fortunately, it’s the best fifteen minutes of that session, starting with energetic techno before heading into another synth solo from Schulze. Part III and Part IV of Phantom Heart Brother shows up, and if you can’t remember which those were, um… it’s the electro piece, and the synth heavy techno piece. Three Pipers At The Gates Of Dawn features Part VII and VIII, a short drone portion followed by another techno work with Laswell Bass (Ace Track, remember?). And as for the remaining tracks, I’ll tackle them when I come to them properly. Y’know, spoilers and all.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook - The Dark Side Of The Moog III

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1995/2016

Wait a minute! How are we even getting these Dark Side Of The Moog reissues in the first place? The status of Pete Namlook’s label remains in limbo, so many ancient artifacts from the Fax +49-69/450464 archives long out of print. Even Ambient World, a sublabel specifically set-up for reissues of popular Fax+ releases, couldn’t keep their stock in for long, and they reissued Mr. Kuhlmann’s collaborations with Klaus Schulze twice! You might even still find some floating around, though not at any decent price. And as both prints closed shop after Namlook’s untimely death, everything from the Fax+ archives seems sealed away until the estate sorts things out with their respective owners. It’s not like all those original contributors to Fax+ can come knocking for their music back, can they?

Apparently so, though it’s not surprising that someone who’s been in the business as long as Schulze would have equal share in the Dark Side Of The Moog albums. And it just so happens ol’ Klaus has a reissue deal with MIG (Made In Germany Music), a relatively new print that deals almost exclusively with reissues. After perusing their wares, it seems the name’s a misnomer, with plenty American, UK, and other European groups getting attention from MIG, though I’m hard pressed to recognize much of them. Ian Hunter, Weather Report, Stray Cats… but yeah, there’s definitely a skewing towards German krautrock here, what with bands like Novalis, Epitaph, and of course Mr. Schulze himself making up the bulk. And if MIG is in the process of making all of Klaus’ music available again in the modern era, it’s only proper that the Dark Side Of The Moog sessions should receive the same treatment.

The Dark Side Of The Moog III marked a change in how Namlook and Schulze approached the project: each segment is are now indexed normally! Yep, no more five-minute Parts, where differing pieces bleed into each other and the like. Naturally that defeats the notion of playing these as a single composition of music, but even here the duo are showing signs of growing bored of that angle. Whereas Wish You Were There and A Saucerful Of Ambience generally flowed from beginning to end, each Part of Phantom Heart Brother is clearly different from what came before. Part 1 lasts over eighteen minutes, mostly consisting of corny ‘spo-O-o-O-ky’ modulating synth sounds, and entirely skippable. Part 2 keeps those sounds going for a lengthy fade-out, but vintage Berlin-School synths coupled with spacey guitar drastically changes the album’s tone. Following that, Part 3 abandons ‘70s sounds altogether, going for minimalist abstract electro as a ten-minute lead into the requisite trance cut in Part 4, and not a half-bad offering at that. Finally, Part 5 goes pure ambient, though in that distinct spacey Fax+ style Namlook made his own, before a little kraut guitar action is added to the mix. This is undoubtedly what everyone figured a Schulze-Namlook pairing would produce. We’re finding a groove now, friends.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook - The Dark Side Of The Moog II

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1995/2016

Make no mistake: Klaus Schulze and Pete Namlook roamed drastically different orbits in the early ‘90s, in no small part from being of two different generations of synth music. One was studious, old-school, and strictly for the art houses, consumed by egg-heads of electronic music. The other had his finger on the pulse of clubland, offering up energetic dance beats alongside his calmer, spacier moments enjoyed by knackered punters. Most attempts at melding the disparate scenes were met with indifference at best, failure at worst. And while I’ve no doubt Namlook took some inspiration from Schulze’s work, plenty other Berlin-School pioneers were still active should he have gained the courage to contact any of them. But why would any of them bother with some ‘rave’ guy in the first place?

Turns out ol’ Klaus did, detecting kinship with Mr. Kuhlmann after hearing his work on the second Air album. How the aged German came into contact with the younger German’s work was almost incidental, a brief meeting from a mutual associate, and somehow from that Schulze took in enough of a sampling of Namlook’s work to request an exchange of ideas, if not a full-on collaboration. Remarkable, considering Klaus was notorious for keeping his synth work a pure expression of his own muse with little outside input. It led to many stunning works, true, but also a fair bit of unfiltered waffle too. Hey, sounds like the bulk of Namlook’s discography as well! Clearly, a match made in stars of heaven.

The Dark Side Of The Moog II picks up where the first left off, expanding on the single-track concept with Schulze’s sounds leading for much of the proceedings. As before, the album is indexed with five minute parts, expanded by two additional tracks as we have ten extra minutes in this piece (A Saucerful Of Ambience). Again, these aren’t demarcations for any particular transition within this sixty-minute long composition, which is just as well because this is one tedious, meandering sixty-minute long composition.

The first twenty minutes is all sound-effects and field recordings, dominated by twitchy mechanical crickets, and intermittently pierced by distant gongs. It paints an outwordly vista, some landscape at the edge of an alien forest, but man does it ever go on and on. Around Part V, sci-fi pings, bleeps, and paarps provide an interlude of sorts, and then it’s back to sound effects for a bit longer (yay running waters). Finally, some half-hour in, we get actual melody, a rather typical offering of Berlin-School synth noodling, but such a welcome respite after so much abstract dithering. Namlook’s ear for trance takes a turn around Part IX, but it doesn’t last long, and we’re back to grand synth solos and field recordings for the final sixteen minutes.

Apparently both Schulze and Namlook didn’t want these efforts to sound too ‘70s, but A Saucerful Of Ambience is about as old-school as these Dark Side Of The Moogs go. They’re still getting a handle on this, methinks.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook - The Dark Side Of The Moog

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1994/2016

Gathering up the many, many, many volumes of Pete Namlook and Klaus Schulze’s epic collaboration series The Dark Side Of The Moog was never much of a priority. For sure if I saw one on the cheap, I’d snatch that sucker up, but odds of that happening with any release from Fax +49-69/450464 or its reissue sub-label Ambient World are absurdly low. On the other hand, a spiffy box set that does all that grueling work for me? Well shit, son, sign me up for that! And it’s what MIG done did, releasing all eleven volumes of The Dark Side Of The Moog in three bundles, plus a few bonuses for good measure. Though I remained blasé about the concept of Old Berlin-School teaming up with New Berlin-School, I’d be a fool to not spring for at least a couple of these boxes. Naturally, that now means I must review Every. Single. CD. Time for a serious knowledge drop in the project, then, but self-imposed word count runs short, so let’s get into The Dark Side Of The Moog, volume one. Eh? Of course the first wasn’t given a proper numerical demarcation. Like ol’ Pete and Klaus had any idea this would become such a long lasting thing.

If anything, Mr. Kuhlmann seems a little star-struck in his contributions for their initial session. He freely admitted as such, encouraging Mr. Schulze to do what he do best – coerce musical exotica out of crusty analog gear – and he’d work around that. This wasn’t so much about bringing one of the O.G.s of synth music into the hip ‘90s, but exploring what ‘70s music could do given two decades of technological advancements. This does lend to a rather freeform approach to songcraft, but that’s always been the Berlin School methodology regardless. If anything, it had lost its way as many synth wizards looked at making bank during the ‘80s once their sounds caught on with mainstream crowds. Those that didn’t adapt their craft to pop production or movie scores were left in relative obscurity, only later rediscovered by meticulous archivists of synthesizer chronology. Dear God, is this ever turning into a fancy-schmancy history lesson. Back to music.

The Dark Side Of The Moog (Da’ Kickoff) contains ten tracks, each titled Wish You Were There - yeah, the Pink Floyd puns can’t stop, won’t stop. And calling these individual pieces tracks is a misnomer, everything equally split five minutes apiece, save a whopping six minute finale. There are definite segments throughout, as Klaus moves through spacey kraut, sci-fi effects, and grand displays of modern classical synths, but none of the indexes mark any particular transition. About the mid-point, an electro beat emerges, leaves for some more experimental wibbling, and finally we’re treated to a little classic trance business. Not much, mind, but Namlook’s presence is definitely felt in this final stretch, whereas most of the preceding portions he sat back letting Schulze strut his stuff. They’d get better at blending their sounds.

Boards Of Canada - Tomorrow's Harvest

Warp Records: 2013

Probably the most Boards Of Canada sounding album that Boards Of Canada have released. “But wait,” you cry after flipping your TV dinner tray and knocking over a lamp with that flowery canopy and tassels hanging like a droopy hippie, “how can that be? Music Has The Right To Children is their best album for all eternity!” Hey, I ain’t taking that away, though I’m certain a number of folks figure The Campfire Headphase a better album than Musical Children. Hell, there’s probably a few odd sorts that rank Geogaddi’s ultra-cryptic nonsense concept as Most Essential Boards. Almost nowhere does Tomorrow’s Harvest enter this discussion, though its relative newness hasn’t afforded it much gestation time compared to most BoC.

Thing about the Big Three of Boards Of Canada’s discography is they each had their own, distinct sound. For sure there’s the BoC sonic markers you’ll hear in every one of their records (trip-hop beats, analog synth tones, ‘70s fuzz), but one can still instantly tell which album’s playing: Musical Children has the nostalgic playful innocence, Geogaddi the harsh experimentation, and Campfire Headphase the acoustic shoegaze pieces. Tomorrow’s Harvest has no such signifiers of instant identification; in fact, one could claim its lack of a recognizable theme is this album’s primary theme, but that’s rather stupid. Misters Sandison and Eoin most definitely had a theme in mind for this album, one that still paid homage to the ‘70s sounds they grew up listening to. For having relived the children’s documentaries and trips out to the countryside, Boards Of Canada felt time to grow up and explore the desolate futures so many sci-fi films of the era dealt with. Cold War babies didn’t have much hope for our present times, did they?

The start of Tomorrow’s Harvest certainly sells this premise, opener Gemini and third track White Cyclosa the sort of music a Berlin School composer might write for such a film. Lodged between them, Reach For The Dead brings in the Boards’ style of crackly beatcraft and warm synth timbre while adding wide-screen grandeur to their palette, a more cinematic approach to their vintage style. And that’s essentially the bulk of music you’ll find on Tomorrow’s Harvest, tunes less concerned with hauntology than presenting a narrative fitting its theme. There are a few scattered ambient doodles (Uritual, Telepath, Transmisiones Ferox, Collapse), and a couple ‘childhood recollection’ pieces poke their heads out (Nothing Is Real, Cold Earth). For the most part though, Tomorrow’s Harvest sounds like Boards Of Canada stripped down to their raw essence, their music as stark as the barren futurescape that encapsulates their would-be film.

Many who spent years dissecting their other albums were flustered with Tomorrow’s Harvest, unsure what to make of such a modest concept LP. The long gap between albums didn’t help matters, fans filled with much hype and thrill for BoC’s return. Yet it’s almost forgotten now, seldom talked up as folks keep referring back to older records. Guess some remain fixed in the past.

Mick Chillage - Saudade

Carpe Sonum Records: 2014

Finally, ambient music on a label that's not Psychonavigation Records, care of a producer who got his start ...on Psychonavigation Records. *sigh* There's no escaping it, is there. I know Carpe Sonum fancies themselves the spiritual successor to Fax +49-69/450464, but it seems Keith Downey’s Label That Will is fast becoming the ambient-leaning print that everyone’s contributed to at some point in their career. Whether getting their start or chipping in for a track or remix, Psychonavigation’s built up quite the pedigree now. Hell, I only ‘discovered’ them because an old-schooler released his latest album there (Oliver Lieb, yo’). How long before I see Banco de Gaia or AstroPilot crop up on the Dublin label?

Hey, sorry for that totally unrelated tangent. We’re here to discuss a Carpe Sonum Records release, not the myriad ways other labels make their rep’. Of course, this print makes no secret of its love regarding Namlook’s old works, and as Mick Chillage was one of Fax+’s final artists (including the pairing with Moss Garden member Lee Norris as Autumn Of Communion), it’s only natural they’d come knocking with requests for an album. Or he made the offer himself. Or maybe a combination of both. Like, he certainly didn’t have to release on Carpe Sonum, Mr. Chillage (Mr. Gainford to the Ireland Office of Data) having albums out on a number of prints (...txt, Databloem, Anodize, self-release). Still, if that mega Namlook tribute box-set deal taught us anything, it’s there’s a lot of residual love for the Fax+ legacy, and having something proper on the label continuing it is only appropriate.

Ol’ Mick has dabbled in various forms of ambient and chill-out music (clearly), but Saudade is about as full-on ambient as you’ll likely ever hear from the chap. The first three tracks (Over Ingia, North Scape, Yakone) go the minimalist, droning route, with two of these compositions quite lengthy in the process. As the titles suggest, these are also rather cold, barren pieces, very much evoking the sort of vistas you’d expect from frozen wastes. Yeah, whether it’s cover art or song titles, Chillage doesn’t skimp on the ‘chill’ metaphors in his music. There’s a little amount of spritely synth in Over Ingia, like the glittering gleam off ice-covered landforms, but we don’t get much else beyond pure tone-setting drone.

At nearly seventeen-minutes in length, Solitude makes for an obvious centrepiece track on Saudade. Such a runtime offers Chillage time to go through icy bleak drone through faded, melancholic melody and back to lonesome drone again. That’s followed upon by big, bright synths in Altesch, bolder astral ambient with Ophir Aurora, and sequenced minimalism to close with Fall, ending the album on a very Berlin-School tip.

Despite being inundated with an over-abundance of ambient these past few weeks, it’s hard not to recommend Saudade as another essential addition to any fans of the genre. What’s remarkable is this is but the ‘tip of the iceberg’ (*groan*) of Chillage’s repertoire of cool (*slap*).

Gel-Sol - K8ema

Psychonavigation Records: 2010

I've already used up all my Gel-Sol background preamble and tasty tidbits of trivia in the review of IZ. What else is there to talk about regarding Mr. Reichel? This is the reason I'm going through my music collection in 'Album' alphabetical order, to keep each review relatively fresh and unique without falling into repetitive grinds. Typically I have enough time and space between artist albums that I'll have dug up some new details about their career, or find a fresh angle to approach a review from. And had I had both IZ and K8ema when they were new, I wouldn’t have this problem now, an entire letter buffering me between the two albums. Right, that letter is ‘J’, the puniest letters in my collection not named ‘Q’, but at least it’d be something. Man, why couldn’t I have stumbled upon Gel-Sol way back when. I had every opportunity to do so. But nay, tech-plodstep was more pressing to review in ye’ olde age of 2008.

Fortunately, the liner notes of K8ema have provided some details I wasn't privy to going into IZ. Yeah, yeah, maybe I should have read those before writing that review, but I'm trying to maintain the illusion of writing these shortly after I play 'em.

Anyhow, both of these albums were apparently written for Mr. Reichel’s nieces, IZ for an Izabella, and this here K8ema for one Katelyn Mae. D’aww. The first, I can hear, as IZ definitely had a lot of sentimentality flowing through its various ambient pieces. K8ema, on the other hand, is stated as a natural evolution of IZ, which means more interesting compositions, though not as much pleasantness little girls might like. In fact, this album is something of a mish-mash of various jam sessions Gel-Sol engaged with other Seattle producers, often using MIDI generators in crafting long, non-looping sequences of bleeps, zoops, diddlidoos, and other unpronounceable electronic sounds. Some tracks get very near musique concrete levels of non-musicality, but they always find a core of a theme to centre around. It’s a style of songcraft that isn’t too dissimilar to the abstract pieces Tangerine Dream were performing when they first started fiddling with synthesizers (and took me a stupid amount of time to realize that).

This helps make K8ema a more engaging playthrough than the uniformly similar IZ. You still have the pleasant synth pad pieces like Abyssinia, The Mechanical Garden, and Lost, but also sci-fi weirdness in tracks like Glade and Gel S’hole. Other pieces feel that krautrock psychedelic muse a’callin’ (Halo Of Stars, Energy Pools), while others aim for blissful peace vibes (Spirit Guide, Panta Rhei). And, just to remind you that this is a dedication to a wee waif, there’s an untitled final lullaby that sounds like it’s played on a electronic toy harpsichord. Double d’aww.

Really, the whole album plays out like one long song of various electronic improvisations, constantly fooling you where a‘proper’ track ends and begins. Fans of tripped-out FSOL definitely apply within.

Chronos - Helios

Altar Records: 2013

Not to let AstroPilot hog all the ‘ambient via inspiration of suns and stars’ glory on Altar Records, here’s Chronos tossing his offering into the concept as well. Maybe everyone on the label will have their opportunity at some point. Heck, after he’s finished with his ‘Seasons’ series, DJ Zen should start up one based on celestial bodies within our solar system, thus letting all the regulars have their crack at Sol ambient. Then they could move onto the planets, which Chronos would have no problem pitching in since his other Altar albums centered on Mars and Venus. Plus, he’d have to compile the ‘Saturn’ CD – it’d only be appropriate. Not sure who’d want to do ‘Uranus’ though (hey’o ...sorry).

Anyhow, after namedropping Nikita Klimenko’s project for a while now, I’m tackling an actual full-length album from the guy. Just a shame it had to be Helios, hardly the most representative LP under the Chronos banner. That’d be like starting discussion of AstroPilot with Solar Walk III. However, for all the material he’s contributed to Altar compilations, Mr. Klimenko hasn’t made the label his permanent home either, jumping around other prints like Ajana Records, Aventuél, and most recently Mystic Sound Records. He’s dabbled in many forms of the psy chill and trance market, and while he’s made an ambient track or four in his time, this is his first pure beatless outing for an LP.

Well, not quite ‘beatless’. The middle portion of Helios does feature rhythms of a sort, just not in the traditional psy chill manner. Rotating Light Circles has very brisk, subdued breakbeats, more akin to Berlin-School era sequencers than anything intended for the raver generation. Follow-up tracks Oracul and Osiris (a collaboration with Proton Kinoun) make use of this technique as well, providing Helios with a decent amount of vitality as it plays through. It’s like the sun is reaching its zenith across its path along our sky, showering us with all the vitalizing energy pouring out of its nuclear furnace thousands of kilometers away. Hrm, that sounds like a bit of waffle when I describe it like that.

It still makes sense though. Apparently Helios was crafted in one of those short spurts of inspiration musicians have on occasion, the PR blurb proclaiming a ten day span of writing. But honestly, a concept album around the sun isn’t that difficult to conceive. You start with your morning dawn tracks that are light, airy, and meditative (Out Of Chaos, Moon Through A Lense, Deimos), the aforementioned ‘energetic’ tracks marking the midday, and darker, minimalist, reflective pieces to close out into twilight (Dolphinium, Ancient Bells). Nikita does add various samples he’d gathered during his tours abroad (India, Egypt, Moscow), giving the tracks enough personality such that Helios doesn’t lose itself in the glut of ambient’s vast ocean.

So perhaps not the most original album in Chronos’ repertoire, but a lush one nonetheless. Mr. Klimenko, he’s got some skill with them spacey synths that are worth checking out.

Tangerine Dream - Stratosfear

Virgin: 1976

A significant album in the Tangerine Dream discography, this one. For most of their early existence, the group Edgar Froese built willfully, skillfully, and probably stonedley indulged in all the wayward freeform excesses psychedelic rock could bring them. Then they brought in synthesizers, adding to their sonic possibilities, even abandoning traditional instruments altogether for a brief while, ushering in the nascent Berlin School of krautrock. Through it all, you’d be hard-pressed to hear anything resembling a catchy hook or hummable melody, because who’s got time for that when you’re constructing alien soundscapes for a receptive, tripped-out audience? That all changed with Stratosfear, in particular with the titular opener where several very memorable, very obvious melodies emerge as the ten minute piece unfolds. What were Tangerine Dream doing, aiming for higher chart action with this?

Perhaps a little. No doubt that Virgin deal gained them much wider recognition the world abroad, but even other forms of lengthy, sequenced synth music was gaining popularity. Along with plenty other Germans getting in on the act, you also had Frenchmen (Jarre), Greeks (Vangelis), Japanese (Tomita), British (all them prog rockers), and even Americans (Synergy) having a go with various amounts of success. As many of these musician adhered to a more modern classical approach to the craft, they had no problem injecting melodies and leitmotifs into their compositions. Naturally, for Tangerine Dream to keep pace and not be left in krautrock obscurity like Can and Cluster, they’d have to take a similar approach to their works as well. Thus Stratosfear comes off like a long-lost piece of baroque on par with their synth manipulating contemporaries. Or the group just wanted to try something different.

Worry not, ol’ ye’ old-school Tangerine Fans of old, for the rest of this album has them harkening back to the ancient times of traditional instruments as well. The Big Sleep In Search Of Hades melds synths with harpsichords, plus out comes the flute again! Man, it’d been a while since the Dream Team of Tangerines used that little pipe. The song itself has some folksy charm to it, sounding like the sort of music you might hear in a fantasy movie from the ‘70s. Oh yeah, Tangerine Dream were set to do their first ever film score for the movie Sorcerer the next year.

The second half of Stratosfear plays more to the group’s freeform music making, though even these compositions have more structure going on than prior works. 3 AM At The Border Of The Marsh From Okefenokee is another work that wouldn’t sound out of place in a movie during a tension-filled scene of sneaking across fields. Lastly, Invisible Limits runs through various sequences of quiet synths and flutes, pulsing prog rock jams, abstract experimental diddling, and a peaceful denouement of piano and flute: a condensed summation of Tangerine Dream, then.

Stratosfear isn’t the definitive Tangerine Dream album, but it is a good blend of their seminal work with the poppier leanings they’d go in later years.

David Bickley - Still Rivers At Night

Psychonavigation Records: 2006

Psychonavigation Records had a CD fire sale of their back-catalog over the summer, forcing me to splurge on a label as I've never splurged before. You bet that's generated a massive queue of music for my next alphabetical backtrack, to say nothing of the regular releases that have piled up during my sojourn of “S”. This here Still Rivers At Night from David Bickley is the first release of that label trawl that I'm finally reviewing, thus providing me with the opportunity to warn thee of the near future: there will be obscurity, oh yes.

I’m still stunned how Psychonavigation just sprung up out of seemingly nowhere a few years back, yet had been quietly going about its business throughout the ‘00s. Hell, I wonder if even they realized they’d have such a turnaround, given the rather sedate release schedule of their first decade in existence. Take this release, with a catalogue marker of PSY 015, released 2006. The label’s breached PSY 100 this year, and they’d only just reached PSY 050 in 2011. So... from about three releases per year, to about a clip of over ten per now. And all done with a plethora of obscure artists at that.

Take David Bickley. Have you heard of him? Okay, maybe if you’re from his native Ireland or a hardcore follower of downtempo and ambient music, the name’s crossed your path. Not mine though, except in one recent instance that didn’t even register with me at the time. The same year he put out this album, David also released a collaborative effort with Tom Green, the man behind Another Fine Day. In fact, almost all of Mr. Bickley’s Discogian credits list him as a collaborator or contributor to other artists. Going further back, he put out a few items under the alias of Hyperborea, which I know more for the Tangerine Dream album than anything else.

Hey, that’s a handy segue! While I wouldn’t call Still Rivers At Night a krautrock album, there are a few elements of that floating about, mostly in the synth-heavy Berlin-School vein. Hell, the titular cut could be right out of the late ‘70s with those vintage brisk, bloopy arps, sequenced modulators, and gentle pad waves. That’s about as easy it gets describing this album though. Mr. Bickley’s clearly had plenty of influences in his time in the world of music, and he finds ways of incorporating them in clever ways throughout. Traction Cities rides a laid-back trip-hop beat as a woozy melody ebbs in and out, Babygroove sounds like how psy dub might have gone if done by ‘70s German stoners, Zebo-Black glides along a minimalist electro rhythm with faded cinematic strings, and Cave 9 gets its psychedelic rock on while cruising the Amtrak in Detroit.

Ultimately, much of Still Rivers At Night reminds me of The Future Sound Of London’s more recent works. If that sounds mint to you, then this is a worthy companion to the quirkier albums in your collection.

Various - Slumberland (Episode 2: Awake & Dreaming)

Waveform Records: 2000

It didn't seem Waveform Records had any intention of following up the first Slumberland. The kick-off series [Number] A.D aside, most of their compilations were one-and-done efforts, a simple showcase of a particular genre of music. Frosty got in on that trippy acid jazz-hop vibe, Earthjuice went for a traditional dub look, and Slumberland surely satisfied whatever audience they had for dreamy ambient noodling. Their snoozing CD must have did better business than expected though, for why else would they bring us Episode 2 nearly three years after the first? Maybe groovy folks truly do enjoy calm, droning synths, so long as its presented in a package that eschews New Age mystical bollocks.

On the other hand, perhaps Waveform believed there was more to explore with the Slumberland concept, hence the write-up for Episode 2: Awake & Dreaming. Instead of offering music capturing the essence of deep relaxation, this CD focuses on transitional moments between alertness and inertness. Not so much the lucid state of mind though, the tunes on offer here having more rhythm to them, mostly light tribal beats or pulsating synths. It’s still a very calm collection of music, but there’s something of an old, ancient mystery to it all, like music sent from all our forgotten ancestors who somehow had digital means of recording sounds. Whoof, does that ever sound pretentious.

I’m gonna’ allow it though, because Slumberland 2: The Reslumbering, features quite a few names well outside the borderlands of what most folks consider electronic music producers. Oh, they definitely still make use of synths and sequencers, but you’d never find these names in the traditional “Electronic & Dance” racks at ye’ olde record shop. For instance, ones Mychael Danna and Tim Clément appear on here, Canadian individuals who’ve been making ambient music since the ‘80s – in fact, their composition Sunrise West, a pulsing bit of latter-era Berlin School work, comes direct from an ’86 album Another Sun. And while Mr. Clément mostly worked in tandem with Mr. Danna, one of his few solo outings also features here in the form of Beautiful Lady, a piece with eerie bells and pipes playing as filtered dialog goes on about out-of-body experiences. Then there’s Richard Wahnfried’s epic eighteen minute long Druck, making use of acoustic guitars, tribal rhythms, and wave upon wave of synths and pads. Who does this guy think he is, Mike Oldfield? Heh, close: it’s actually a pseudonym for the legendary Klaus Schulze, putting this track’s release date firmly in 1981! Holy cow, did Waveform ever do some digging for this compilation.

That said, the label’s spelunking for ambient music outliers resulted in a few chintzy pieces too. Tracks from I-Sense and Eleven Shadows are rather rudimentary offerings, and I can’t decide whether Janjiva’s Four Dimensional Interaction is suitably minimalist ambient techno or just undercooked, especially compared to the sharper Born Basic from Foundland. The ‘nice’ does still outweighs the ‘meh’ on Slumberland 2 though, and is a worthy sequel to the first.