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!

Andrew Heath - Europa

Disco Gecko: 2016

Y'know, I do like Andrew Heath's vibe, but even four albums worth of his minimalist ambient feels a bit overkill for my music collection. Just how many times can I take hearing his sparse piano tones, treated field recordings, and ephemeral synth harmonics before it all it starts blending into the same sonic soup. It's not really a style of songcraft that lends itself to radical experimentation. While there are different ideas and settings he can approach his compositions from, his basic texture hasn't changed that much in the four years he's released material on Banco de Gaia's label. Perhaps that's why hearing his most recent album, Soundings, open with that clickity-clack of typewriter typing was so effective at grabbing my attention – it was a sound astoundingly unique in Mr. Heath's overall sonic palette. Either that, or I find something intimately relating in hearing the sporadic striking of a querty keyboard.

Still, Europa should satisfy at least another innate tug at my soul, wanderlust. No, I mean actual wanderlust, not Wanderlust, the Andrew Heath piece with the typewriter sounds (I can't get over it!). After his first couple albums most dealt with the idyllic, pastoral vistas of the British countryside, Heath set his ears to the recalled sounds of mainland Europe, reflecting the areas he'd travelled while touring throughout old lands of Empires long passed. It definitely lends itself to a different vibe compared to The Silent Cartographer and Flux.

Andrew's music has always had a sense of journey about it, though seldom with any particular destination in mind – you can imagine slowly floating down a small creek in a tiny village as his music plays. Europa, on the other hand, has far more territory to traverse, so that same languid pace isn't quite so prominent. For sure the pieces crafted here remain as calm and soothing as anything Mr. Heath's crafted – he's quite comfortable in his lane – but in trying to capture the sprit of the different regions of his travels, it doesn't feel like we're completely taking in all that each setting offers. Some local folk music flavours in Lunz, sight-seeing unique fowl fauna in Requiem, partaking in the pleasant child activities in The Summer Boys, checking out the historical cultural achievements in Sputnik | Little Earth. So much to see, so little time to see it all in (approximately 74-80 minutes, plus another twenty if you sprung for the extra-deluxe bonus tour, er, tracks).

Which is par for the course when it comes to tourist vacations, always in a hurry to get to your next destination, being herded like cattle onto buses or monorails before the deadline, and ooh wait, there's just one extra thing I want to see, no, don't leave me behind, I don't have enough local currency for a hostel stay, wait! Er, not that I've ever had to deal with such inconveniences when sight-seeing abroad. I've heard stories though. Oh, have I heard stories.

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.

Andrew Heath - Soundings

Disco Gecko: 2017

I've been neglectful of Andrew Heath. It's not like he's been absent, releasing music at a yearly clip, but it's been a few albums since I last talked him up. Thing is, though I generally like his minimalist ambient works, it's also something that's reliably just there, not terribly fussed about getting attention. I can go back to it whenever I feel, comfortable that it'll sound exactly how I expect it will, and that'll be that. Seeing as how it's been two years (!) since I last reviewed one of Mr. Heath's records, it stands to reason my attention's been diverted elsewhere in the meanwhile. Absolutely so, labels like ...txt, Dronarivm, Cryo Chamber, and, er, Psychonavigation having lured my ambient explorations away from Disco Gecko in that time. Well, better get caught up on ol' Andrew then, starting with his most recent offering, Soundings.

One thing Mr. Heath has started putting more focus on is his use of field recordings, making them the guiding backbone of his compositions rather than sonic texturing. That is no more prominently displayed than with the opening track Wanderlust, where the good ol' clackity-clack of a typewriter greets us. More often than not, when I hear an album open with a typewriter, I expect the person at the machine to proclaim he's taking his work back underground (to keep it from falling into the wrong hands), but I suspect Andrew's manifesto isn't so renegade. Instead, this piece features distant footsteps, crackling static, soft synthy timbres, and those distinct, sparse piano tones that will always bring the Harold Budd comparisons, though Heath's use of them goes into abstraction. Halfway through the fourteen-minute piece, acoustic guitar plucks and muted dialog take the lead, though the typewriter/piano combo does return for the final leg. If Wanderlust was about capturing the feeling of one's mind drifting while trying to get proper-work done, it certainly does that. You've no idea how many times I got distracted even writing this paragraph!

For as much Andrew made in the liner notes about his field recordings being his primary source of inspiration, from which he crafted his music around, I don't get that sense from the rest of Soundings. For sure there's more throughout, the usual assortment of open areas, intimate settings, and the like, but nothing quite so significant as the typewriter of Wanderlust. Rather, he's given more time and space for the guest musicians to do their things. This includes clarinet from Bill Howgego in A Break In The Clouds, cello from Stéphane Marlot in Days In-Between, and the usual instrumental accompaniments from Anne Chris Bakker, whom Heath's been working with for some time now. They're all fine pieces, though does edge the music closer into modern classical's domain than ambient.

And in the end, I still found myself more enthralled by Andrew's 'traditional' songs, such as the Bandcamp bonus of The Painted Surface, something of a sober reflection of Wanderlust. Navigating art halls never felt so isolating.

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.

Various - Strange-Eyed Constellations

Disco Gecko: 2015

A little late to the compilation game, aren’t we, Mr. Marks? True, it’s only in recent years ol’ Toby’s started using his Disco Gecko print as something more than an outlet for all his Banco de Gaia back-catalog, but this market has grown incredibly niche since he got his break on similar CDs way back when. You could find fashionable ‘ambient collections’ with distinct themes on nearly every store shelf in ’92, but while there’s no drought for new material these days, you don’t see much consolidation of the music beyond label manifestos. Tobes mentions in this CD’s liner notes a long-gestating intent at doing something similar to the old Ambient Dub series though, so better late than never?

Still, Strange-Eyed Constellations doesn’t have much concept behind it other than being a gathering of musicians and music that Mr. Marks fancies. This ranges from long-time compatriots like Andy Guthrie and James Eller, more recent associates like AstroPilot, Dr. Trippy, Temple Hedz, and Andrew Heath, plus inclusions from completely new-to-Discogs names like Project Transmissions and Oombata Key. Now that’s how you diversify a compilation: lure ‘em in with the familiar, exposing the overlooked in the process. Toby’s done his research here.

As we’re dealing with the man behind Banco de Gaia, Strange-Eyed Constellations obviously features a lot of ethnic-fusion sort of music. Hah, no, Marks has evolved some since those Last Train To Lhasa days, going far more ambient and musically abstract than cribbing a few worldly chants and slapping a dance beat underneath. AstroPilot’s opener Dum Spíro, Spéro does the space ambient thing, with the next clutch of tracks going rather ethereal. A song titled Sirens Of Lorelei, yeah, I’d be rather disappointed if I wasn’t getting the Wiccan vibe on, and that carries through Radium88’s The Future’s Bright, The Future’s Incandescent.

The middle of the compilation (stop thinking Starry-Eyed Sunrise, dammit), gets more to the ethnical influences, though are mostly subdued offerings of world music, much less ‘beat’ despite the nods to dubbier production about. Makes sense, given Marks’ longtime aversion to the term ‘world beat’ in the first place, and he doesn’t hesitate in throwing in a couple curveballs along the way (James Eller’s It’s Beautiful Mike, It Really Is is a dead-ringer for classic Pink Floyd). Dimensions from Temple Hedz is closer to the contemporary Banco mold, though given the two tracks Marks offers himself, what even is the Banco sound anymore? To The Nth Degree sounds like an amalgamation of Andrew Heath, AstroPilot, and Floyd, while Falling Tides under his own name sees ol’ Toby going full Heath for himself. Not to be outdone, Andrew closes the compilation out with a bit of planetarium piano doodling in Epiphany. Much lovely, ‘tis.

Strange-Eyed Constellations has a few fluffy, forgettable moments, with some tracks blending indistinguishably between others, but it’s definitely all in the Disco Gecko mold. If you figured Marks’ label was nothing but Banco de Gaia retreads, this compilation provides a proper ear opener.

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.

Andrew Heath - Flux

Disco Gecko: 2015

Never thought I'd become an Andrew Heath fan. I was curious enough to check out his first album on Disco Gecko, if only to find out why Toby Marks would have tapped the ambient composer as the first outside artist on his label. Yet while The Silent Cartographer was a pleasant little trip through minimalist piano diddling, it wasn't the sort of music I saw myself exploring any further. There's only so much ambient I can take in, and my flag leans more towards the padded synths and dubby atmospherics than indulging the nuances of tonal harmony. Besides, I’m already hearting a Heath, and that dark, brooding Simon chap might be the jealous sort.

Then a super-mega 20th Anniversary Last Train To Lhasa bundle came out. I’ll get to details about that release at the appropriate time, but one of the surprising highlights from the package was Andrew Heath’s remix of China. It took an already mellow slice of ambient dub and led it down his minimalist tonal harmony path. For a song set in a region where such music has been practiced in perfected for ages, it makes so much blissful sense that I get the super Zen feels from it. This, mind you, from a guy who’s only remix credit is this one track! What makes it such a standout, however, is again just how different Andrew Heath’s style is compared to the remixers surrounding him, music that brings to mind art displays or quiet times in a Japanese rock garden, not groovy nights outdoors surrounded by ravers and hippies.

That was enough to keep an eye out for anything else Heath might release, and wouldn’t you know it, he’s got a fresh LP barely a year after his last, Flux. The liner notes states this music was inspired by time spent gazing at lights in the northern latitudes of his homeland Cotswolds, England. That description alone already marks this album as something quite ‘British in the meadowlands’, though you’d have to ask a resident of the realm whether that’s apt.

Flux is music almost as an abstraction, ample uses of field recordings, harmonic bell tones, and soft ethereal pads making up the bulk. Mr. Heath does let his lingering piano notes guide things along, and occasional synthy woodwinds pop in and out, but they’re far from a driving force in these tracks. Really, there’s not much drive at all, each piece content to remain relatively static for their duration (around an average of eight to ten minutes in length). It barely even sounds like compositions end or begin, as though you’re lazily floating down a creek through pastoral villages and windmill hovels. A couple pure piano pieces do break up the mood (The Darkening, Fragment on the digital version), and Ghost Box has a discordant thing going for it, but for the most part, Flux is an ambient album best served for the stillest of activities. Find a patio and watch clouds for an hour, or something.

Andrew Heath - The Silent Cartographer

Disco Gecko: 2014

In one of the great cosmic coincidences within my music collection, CDs from Simon Heath is followed upon by a CD by Andrew Heath in my alphabetical organization of album titles. I don't think they’re related. Even more coincidentally though, they both produce ambient music. Okay, given the amount of ambient I have, it's not that great a coincidence.

Plus, they're at complete opposite ends of the ambient spectrum. S. Heath makes dark, brooding ambient as Atrium Carceri and Sabled Sun, while A. Heath makes calm, meditative ambient as, um, Andrew Heath. Also, the former has quite a few releases to his various aliases, whereas the latter has very little. Lord Discogs claims Andrew floated about in ambient obscurity with Felix Jay as Aqueous, releasing a few albums in the '90s before all musical records of him disappear until very recently. Somewhere along the way, Toby Marks got wind of his music, and signed him to his Disco Gecko label. And now you know why I'm reviewing The Silent Cartographer in the here and now. Like, if Banco de Gaia reps the chap, there's gotta' be some dope transmissions coming in from Mr. Heath (no, not signals).

After taking in this album though, I'm left puzzled by the Banco bump. The Silent Cartographer is ambient at its most traditionalist, with soothing synth tones, delicate piano touches, and occasional soft percussion. The opening titular cut, running at thirteen minutes in length, harkens back to some of Pete Namlook and Dr. Atmo’s work as Silence, lazily idling along with soft pads ebbing and flowing while various field recordings come and go. There are birds chirping, water running, boats creaking, and… repair work near the end? It’s all very relaxing though, perfect meditation music if that’s your sort of thing.

And so is the rest of the album, little variation in terms of mood and tone. The Twilight World uses pad synths with more prominence as it develops, Shoreline (Found Object) has a pleasant planetarium vibe going for it, Still Point works in a little vinyl crackle for extra warmth, and The Poet’s Dream feels ‘old-school’ with some vintage synth sounds used. For the most part though, these ten minutes pieces are led by piano, and here’s where I make the inevitable Harold Budd comparison. What, were you expecting a Hybrid Leisureland one instead? Can’t be helped, Mr. Budd casting a long shadow in the ‘piano ambient’ scene. The shorter Paper Boat sounds like something right out of his work with Brian Eno in The Pearl. Say, maybe that’s why I picked up The Silent Cartographer, figuring this album would represent the historical drama I keep believing The Pearl is based upon.

Mm, no, it’s definitely because of the Banco bump. You’d think a guy known for ethnic-fusion beats would curate artists of similar ilk to his label, but maybe Toby Marks has long had an unrealized soft spot for art house ambient too. Don’t expect Mr. Heath at a Megadog reunion though.

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 - 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.