David Bridie - Act Of Free Choice

EMI: 2000

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

I won't deny, I'm feeling torn over where to take this review. The normal, traditional, expectant thing is to write up my version of a biographical Wiki regarding David Bridie's career, with some detailing of the music within this album. Yet, I feel compelled to dive deeper into the album's title, Act Of Free Choice. This is no simple play on words as a record shop eye-catcher, but an actual, significant event, so-called with the bitter taste of irony on one's tongue.

Granted, it's not something many folks will know about, but if you know your Indonesian politics, it's pretty significant. Why yes, I've had more than a passing interest in the history of the archipelago nation. At first it was just a geological aspect, primarily the famous 1883 Krakatau event, then the region's other various massive volcanoes and eruptions. Then you learn more about the people who live there, their histories, the colonial history, and so on and so on.

Cutting centuries of story short, when the newly-formed Indonesian country gained its independence and started rounding up the thousands of distinct island cultures into one, unified nation, New Guinea was something of a hold-out. Highly abbreviating the circumstance, the vote to join Indonesia was held by some one-thousand people supposedly and specifically selected by the Indonesian military, making the unanimous decision seem a little queer in just how much of an 'act of free choice' the vote really was. It's a dispute that persists to this day, with indigenous folks to the island still protesting for their independence from Indonesia.

Thus, it's no small coincidence Mr. Bridie would choose such a title for his debut album. Indeed, he's among a small number of Australian musicians who show no qualms about getting political with their art (hi, Midnight Oil!), especially when it concerns the plights of downtrodden cultures in their region of the world. That all said, I can't claim that Act Of Free Choice is super explicit in its depictions of this issue. In fact, many these songs just as easily interpreted as reflections of one's sombre mood at any given time of depression. I'd have to study the lyrics more to be certain, but only a couple of these songs have lyrics posted (that I can find). And to be honest, this is such a melancholic album, I'm not sure I want to spend much time with it anyway.

For sure Mr. Bridie is a good song-writer with a delicate touch in uses of sparse piano, echoing guitars, and dramatic orchestral swells. When there are rhythms driving things forward, they're mostly the sort of uptempo trip-hop beats you'd find used in soundtracks (which makes sense, given David's ample body of score work). It all sounds very rich and artful, but just brings my whole mood down after listening to it. Not in a savoury sort of way either. Can you blame me for being more drawn to the historical context of the album's title? Other people's issues are easier to deal with than my own.

Hot Chip - The Warning

EMI: 2006

I can't look at this album and not think of a totally different release called The Warning. This particular Warning is a classic tech-step cut from Grooverider, operating under his Codename John alias, released on Metalheadz at the peak of tech-step's dominance. With its spacious sonics, flanged-out surf sounds, low-riding rhythms, and bass reverberating from the depths of oceanic halls, it's a perfect mood setter for a session of prop'ah underground t'ings. Oh, and a repeated vocal of “This is... the warning”, forever lodging itself inside your brain, such that you can't see any other iteration of “the warning” without having that voice saying it for you.

Not that Hot Chip could have known this when they named their sophomore album The Warning (are any of them closet junglists?). Like, the titular song opens with twinkly bells and twee electro-pop rhythms, about as far removed from the rugged 'n' ruff jungle scene as one can ever get. To say nothing of Alexis Taylor's gentle croon at total odds with an ominous sampled voice. Still, there's something to be said for the unnerving way they calmly sing the chorus here: “Hot Chip will break your legs; Snap off your head.” And you know they will too!

Anyhow, I've been meaning to get back into Hot Chip, as the occasional replay of Made In The Dark leaves me yearning to hear more of the group's electro-pop disco-punk palette. I just can't bring myself to revisit One Life Stand though, for reasons I needn't bring up here (damn you, 2010). If I can't go forward, then I must go backward, to the record that truly broke the five-piece out from indie obscurity into... well, indie stardom at least. Despite the DFA association, it'd still be a little longer before dance music followers truly caught onto them (*cough*).

So The Warning, the album that basically cemented what we'd expect to hear out of Hot Chip forever after. The record that fuses so many idiosyncratic musical genres into a charming electro-soup. The LP that let every indie rag flex their name-dropping ability of all the various other bands Hot Chip reminded them of. I kinda' want to avoid doing that, but I honestly understand why they initially did. Very few sounded like what Hot Chip were doing, including Hot Chip themselves. By now though, their style is so distinct, I can easily say, “Yeah, it's a Hot Chip album, from back in the day,” and y'all know exactly what that sounds like. Makes for a poor review on my part though, doesn't it.

I think the trouble I'm having with The Warning is it hasn't quite sunk into me yet, lacking the immediacy Made In The Dark had. This is for the better though, as I'm quite certain I'll get more out of this record the more I return to it. And I will return to it indeed. Just, um, after some other music I need to hear is dealt with first.

Various - Ambient Ibiza

EMI Music Canada: 1996

I'd found a new genre to love, and even lucked out scoring a few early gems showcasing the stuff, but only on my twice-or-thrice a year trips to Vancouver. The rest of my time remained in the ends of Canadian earth, and good luck finding any music shop having something with “ambient” in its title. Fortunately, I'd started working at such a music shop, and had access to our supplier's catalogue. Promising my boss that I'd buy whatever came in, I eagerly flipped through the compilation selection and put in requests for anything that had “ambient” in its title. Some of those items ended up being compilations from Hypnotic (who knew!), but also included was this particular CD, Ambient Ibiza. And hoo, seeing that cover art when it first arrived, did I ever wonder if I'd made a mistake in such blind enthusiasm. Surely I would never make such a mistake in the future, ha-ha, ha!

So this looked rather corny, and when I threw it on for a listen, the opening track, care of CD compiler Sergio himself, with a saccharine pad tone and woman intoning “Tell me... what you dream”, and I feared I'd ended right back in the domain of Pure Moods, a domain I'd emphatically left behind. Couldn't deny though, it sold the Ibizan vibe nicely, feeling like I'm chilling on a Mediterranean patio with a cocktail in hand. Then Bindu's Light At Heart came on, with a surprisingly melancholy pad, heartbeat pulse, and lonely acoustic guitar. And gosh, though it still sounds very Pure Moodsy, something about it stirs the heart/soul/spleen. Like, I recognize it's sap, but a good kind of sap, the kind that can be turned into delicious maple syrup.

From there, Ambient Ibiza warms you over with a variety of chill-out tunes that never lose that Balearic feel. Lucky People Center's Woman Is Like A Fruit goes a little sultry nu-jazz, D.O.P.'s Manifest Your Love could almost fit on a collection featuring early Massive Attack and Soul II Soul, and upbeat Van Basten's Perimitive (Part 1) lays the naturalist field recordings on lusciously thick – feels like I'm wandering an arboretum filled with birds of paradise.

And wouldn't you know it, there's a single tune on Ambient Ibiza that could just fit on one of those 'underground ambient dub' CDs I was so enamoured with, Dub Tractor's Overheated Livingroom. Yeah, it's got that overtly chipper Ibiza vibe to it, but works just enough dubby melodies and rhythms that give me the THC-buzz without even toking a jay. Also, that breakdown! *melt*

Other dubby tracks on here include music from The Gentle People (haha, a Rephlex tune on a compilation like this) and Mind Over Rhythm's Big Warm Glo (a collab' with Plaid, of all things). That's more than enough to convince my younger self Ambient Ibiza really ain't so bad after all. Still a little too sickly sweet for many plays, mind you, but enjoyable enough for occasional summer afternoons.

The Oak Ridge Boys - At Their Best

United Artist Records/EMI-Manhattan Records: 1968

Greetings, Past-Peoples, it is I again, 2073 Sykonee, brought back to your time by Sykonee Prime to review music by The Oak Ridge Boys. I know, I know, this doesn't make a lick of sense. I must be nearly a hundred years old - aged and decrepit, like a rusty tin of sardines. Not really, no. Hearty genetic stock notwithstanding, a benefit of the radiation fallout was unexpectedly extending lifespans in several lucky souls. I may be in my Nineties, but I don't look or feel a day over Sixty-Seven.

'Tis true, the Atomic Brotherhood provides mighty fine benefits for those within their influence, not least of which exposing us to music I'd overlooked in my youth. Yes, it's nice that Nuclear Ramjet and Atomic Babies finally got their due, but I never knew about obscure acts like Oppenheimer Analysis, or tech-house labels like Heisenberg. Our musical consumption may be limited to that which honours the Atomic Age, but it's a wide range nonetheless.

Few dominate our tastes like The Oak Ridge Boys though, because few have as massive a discography. The original incarnation of the group, as The Oak Ridge Quartet, started out in the Nauty-Foreties, their first singles pressed by Capitol Records in 1946. Over time, the line-up changed, as did the name of the group from 'Quartet' to 'Boys' early in the Nauty-Sixties (t'was hip to be 'Boys'). Though they sangs the gospel, it was to the tastes of Red Belt America, eventually going country-full once their latter-era line-up was concreted. When they recorded this particular album though, the group was in transition, Willie Wynn and Herman Harper the vets, Duane Allen and William Gordon the fresh chickens of the coup. And boy was Mr. Gordon ever fresh as this point, prim and proper with nary a whisker of beard found on his chin. Hard to imagine him in any other form.

In the grand ol' Opry scheme of things, At Their Best isn't the most remarkable of releases under the Oak Ridge Boys banner – they have tons and tons of gospel recordings highlighting their harmony talents. What makes this one unique from the others is that it came out on United Artists Records, more known for releasing soundtracks of the time (Jim Bond movies, It's A Mad, Mad, Maddy, Mad-Mad World, The Greatest Story Done Told). It was a one-off deal for The Boys, more comfortable releasing records with strict gospel outlet Heart Warming. I guess someone must have liked their full-range vocals to give them a little larger exposure.

Not much to remark upon the music on my end. It's gospel, mangles! Lots of songs about loving Jesus, loving the Lord, loving your home with Jesus and the Lord within. All charming and quaint where I come from, but The Boys of Oak Ridge sound quite pleasant singing these hymns with organs, pianos, soft drums, and electric guitar in support. I'll believe it that it's them at their best, for the time.

Gorillaz - G Sides

EMI Music Canada: 2002

By the point of Demon Days, springing for additional Gorillaz material seemed a no-brainer. Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett were so meticulous in expanding the brand's memorabilia and lore that you almost felt left out if you didn't check out every aspect of it. Nowadays, it's easy-pie doing so, most resources readily available online. It's also made doing interactive media all the more challenging for the duo, as among Gorillaz' many manifestos, one of them was to always use cutting edge technology in bringing their virtual band to the masses. It's gotten so technical that they've brought Murdoc and 2-D into our meat-space via remote imaging and cartoon holographic digital-quantum trickery, hackery, puppetry, wizardry, and 23@47~{ry. It's a far cry from their early, simple days, when having CD-ROM bonuses was about the peak of extra content.

I mean, that was one of the selling points of G Sides back when wasn't it? The two music videos included on the CD? It's honestly remarkable they fit two on here in the first place, most CDs only having room for one vid' at best. And while including Clint Eastwood would be rather redundant by 2002 (that got massive rotation on TV the year prior), no one had ever seen the Rock The House video yet. I don't know if that one ever aired, either debuting on G Sides, or as an unlockable on the original Gorillaz website. I barely even remember how that thing operated, only that it was considered state-of-the-art web design way back in 2001, with the original Gorillaz CD acting as a key to bonus features like cartoon shorts and the like. As I had a barely functional piece of junk PC at the time, I never got to explore 'Murdoc's Winnebago', and by the time I did get a computer that could, Gorillaz had already moved onto Phase 2, rendering the site obsolete. Oh well.

Obviously all that content is now easy to find online, meaning the only reason to get G Sides now is for the music. Okay, that was a reason back then too, though you must have been one hardcore fan to spring for this album – or just liked more of Mr. Hewlett's artwork. Gorillaz has evolved into a remarkable institution these days, but fifteen years hence, it was seen as little more than a novelty with a clever marketing campaign and some killer singles. That much of the debut album is filler, however, isn't brought up much anymore, seen as a bunch of genre fusion lacking a concise concept linking it altogether as later albums would. If you're down for more of such genre fusion, plus alternate versions of Clint Eastwood and 19-2000, then G Sides is a fun little bonus to the Phase 1 material. It's even got Noodle doing a couple solo outings with electro-pop Faust and trip-hop Left Hand Suzuki Method, singing in Japanese and all. It's as though she could make a whole Gorillaz album herself or something.

Various - Techno Nights Ambient Dawn (2016 Update)

EMI: 1995

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

Easily the funniest thing about that old review is how much I'm dropping the acronym 'EDM' throughout, like it's become the acceptable alternative to the old catch-all term 'electronica'. Over a decade ago though, it really was, even if mostly limited to online discussion in web forums; a handy short-form since continuously typing 'electronic dance music' was much too cumbersome. How was anyone to know 'EDM' would not only enter the public lexicon, but turn out even more reviled a catch-all than 'electronica' or 'techno'? Surely not I in the year 2005, making it hilarious seeing it used so innocently back then. It does make me wonder what might replace ‘EDM’ as “WORST. CATCH-ALL. EVER.” for fans of electronic music. Oh, it will happen. Ten, maybe twenty years from now, when ‘EDM’ is a long, faded memory of a fad, something will come along as a new hotness, turning scenesters of old (re: the current kids) irate over a silly little word.

Speaking of passing time, holy cow does Techno Nights – Ambient Dawn grow more exceptional as the years tick off. Not so much for the music, though there are quite a few great tracks throughout (and that god awful Winter (Armani Mix) from Dave Clarke). Some cuts are showing their age (The Grid’s Texas Cowboy, Shamen’s Destination Eschaton (Hardfloor Vocal Mix), The Prodigy’s Weather Experience, Orbital’s Lush), but most remain as vital as the day they were crafted.

But putting together an ace assortment of tracks isn’t that big a deal, especially in this day of building your own playlists on streaming services. No, what astounds me about this compilation now is that it was even made at all. To be blunt, licensing is a bitch, and the thirty-seven tracks that makes up Techno Nights – Ambient Dawn come from all over the place. EMI’s clout is big, no doubt, and probably could have convinced the independent labels like Warp, XL Recordings, One Little Indian, Mute, Kickin’, and others for contributions to this project. The fact they also got all their major competitors – BMG, Virgin, Sony, WEA, MCA, Polygram – in on this is nothing short of remarkable. I can’t imagine something similar being put together these days, not without all manner of licensing hassle as labels continue consolidating their assets ever more protectively.

And even if they did manage a compromise, the result wouldn’t be anything like the track list we have here. I can’t think of any other commercial compilation where you’d find The Chemical Brothers, DJ Hell, Eon, The Beloved, and Plastikman rubbing shoulders with Philip Glass, Yello, Vangelis, and Brian Eno. Where big hits like Enigma’s Age Of Loneliness and 808 State’s Pacific 707 hang out with utter unknowns like Jam & Spoon’s Hispanos In Space and The Black Dog’s Raxmus. What would a comparable compilation even look like in today’s scene? It wouldn’t. I truly believe no one could pull off a sequel to Techno Nights – Ambient Dawn. I’d love to see an attempt though.

Radiohead - Kid A

EMI Music Canada: 2000

The most important album to have, if you want to have a credible taste in music. That's right, Boomers, your 'most important albums' are no longer relevant! Dark Side Of The Moon? Pet Sounds? Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band?? Pft, as if they could compare to the true importance of Radiohead's most important album. Your old, fuddy-duddy classic be-bop is old, old timers. This one, this defines a generation. Not just any generation, but all generations. Bach couldn't compare to Radiohead. Nirvana couldn't compare to Radiohead. Hank Williams Sr, Jr, and III can't stand against the might of Radiohead. Maybe Miles Davis, Aphex Twin, and The Stanley Brothers can be held in the same breath as Radiohead, but those artists never earned the coveted Seal Of Pretentious Perfection from Pitchfork. Never, I says!

Okay, even the douchiest McHipster skinny-pants wouldn't come off that stupid, but man, the way so many contemporary indie rags went on about Kid A, you'd think that was the common line of thought. In some regards, I can't blame them for the over-reaction of adulation. Here it was, an album that our generation could claim as a modern work of art, one that could be held in the highest esteem along side all those Boomer greats that get carted out for regular Rolling Stone “best all-time” duty. And what was even better, Kid A was something we figured our parents wouldn't quite understand, what with all those electronic noises, effects, and tinkering that the guys at Warp Records had been doodling about with for the past decade. This was music that was looking to the future as much as utilizing the past, thus making it ours, ours, ours! What's that, mums and pops, you don't get the droning ambient bliss of Treefingers or the glitchy manipulation of Thom Yorke's voice on Everything In Its Right Place? Of course you don't.

Actually, I must say something that'll make me come off as the ultimate hipster around: I was into Kid A before it was cool. “How can that be possible,” you ask, “when the album was considered cool almost as soon as it the shelves?” Yeah, that was one of the perks about working a music shop, getting CDs before street date and such. Even ahead of throwing it on for a demo, I knew Radiohead's fourth would be special – no popular band makes album art and packaging that unique without something equally original committed to disc. I only had a passing respect for the band (OK Computer had some good tunes), but little of their output made me want to dig into their discography. And even after picking up Kid A, that feeling remains.

Therein lies this album's strength. You don't have to be a fan of Radiohead, indie rock, or whatever to enjoy it. All that's required is an appreciation for music and the limitless potential it holds. Just, y'know, don't be a smug, fedora-wearing, scarf-snuffling twat about it.

Beastie Boys - Ill Communication

EMI Music Canada: 1994

The Beastie Boys had been in the music business nearly a decade by the time Ill Communication hit the streets, utterly thriving in the world of hip-hop where a three-piece whiteboy posse should have miserably failed. Still, ten years is more than enough time for the rap game to see change, and much had in their region: Eastcoast-Westcoast rivalries heating up, gangsta rap emerging as the new hotness, and fresh New York-based upstarts like Wu-Tang Clan, Nas, and Notorious B.I.G. challenging the old guard. And what's with this DJ Premier guy, sampling all these jazzy loops as a counter to the g-funk of the left side of America? Well shit, son, the Beasties are actual musicians. If that’s the way things are going, why not forget drum machines and raiding the past for samples? Start making your own original jams. Ain't no one doing that in hip-hop, is there? (Guru, but whatever)

And that’s what they did done. Throughout this album, you get funky Big Apple jazz licks galore, nearly a third of which are pure instrumentals. What is this, a blaxploitation soundtrack? Nah, guy, but it’s definitely a throw-back of sorts to the music the Boys undoubtedly grew up surrounded by in the ‘70s. The cheesy cop caper video for Sabotage was hardly a one-off fancy on their part; rather, part of a larger whole that is the homage to that era.

The Beastie Boys don’t let the b-boy antics fall by the wayside though. Root Down, Sure Shot, Freak Freak, and Alright Hear This find them as sharp as ever, with beats – whether sampled or played live by Mike D – keeping the boom-bap ever fresh. The star, however, has to be Get It Together featuring Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest, a perfect meeting ground of old and (then) new Eastcoast hip-hop. The Boys were clued into what was shaking up within the Five Boroughs, even if their music didn’t always reflect it.

Yet, with all these positives, Ill Communication tends to get overlooked when discussion of Beastie Boys albums comes up. About all most folks know of it is that Sabotage is the big tune (wedged between Root Down and Get It Together no less, for an excellent string of tracks!), which is unfortunate but understandable. As the Beasties had entered that ‘experimental’ stage most long-running music groups go through, there’s ample genres indulged in here. Second track Tough Guy is a pure punk freakout, and while Sabotage oozes thrash rock too, going that far off the hip-hop road must of turned some heads away. Or what about the Bhudda chant funk-jam fusion of Shambala, delved even further in follow-up Bodhisattva Vow? Who do the Beasties think they are, Banco de Gaia? Darn Tibeten muses.

As such, the musical explorations renders Ill Communication somewhat lower on the “Repeated Play-Through” totem for most. It’s still an essential part of any fan’s collection though, so if you haven’t done got on this yet, then go get her done.

Gorillaz - Gorillaz

EMI Music Canada: 2001

While we're still on the subject of Del, let's talk about the project that propelled him from underground darling to crossover star ...kind of. While Gorillaz had been in developmental stages between co-creators Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett for a few years, it wasn't until Albarn teamed up with Dan The Automator and Del during the Deltron 3030 sessions that a pair of proper tunes were cut as lead singles. And hoo, what a kick-off it was, Clint Eastwood becoming one of the biggest tunes of 2001. In fact, Gorillaz never topped it, though some will argue Feel Good Inc. from Demon Days was a stronger song as far as Gorillaz hits are concerned. Still, Gorillaz was Albarn’s baby, yet despite Del’s involvement being rendered to something of a footnote in the cartoon band’s long history of guest collaborations, his raps remain the most iconic of them. Not bad for portraying a ghost in the Gorillaz’ quirky, fictional history.

That cartoon mythology is what’s enabled Gorillaz to endure in the public consciousness for over a decade now. While Albarn and Hewlett had a definite motivation in the group’s creation (“Fuck the charts, let’s make anti-pop ‘pop’ music!” …something like that), it eventually turned into an indulgent exercise in mainstream music exploration. It’s difficult to pin the group down to a tidy genre, because Albarn enjoyed the freedom such a project offered. That said, lo-fi hip-hop splashed with punk attitude is as best a starting point as one can hope for.

For a ‘group’ that’s been portrayed as very rock orientated (or at least would be if band-leader Murdoc had his way more often), Gorillaz can be startling upon first listen due to the lack of it. Only Punk is about as straight-forward rock as this album gets, with 5/4 adding chiptune-bleeps and fuzzy bass distortion, and M1 A1’s long, paranoid build-up hiding the song’s typical Albarn rock-anthem climax. There are hints of it here and there, but melded with trippy psychedelia and hip-hop beats so often, you’d think this was a proper Dan The Automator album rather him just being a supporting producer. Perhaps ol’ Damon wasn’t confident with this style of music yet, allowing Dan to dictate much of the album’s direction.

The music’s wonderfully diverse, and so is the tone. Melancholic musers like Starshine and Tomorrow Comes Today offer one end of the spectrum; at the other, upbeat party tunes like Rock The House, Latin Simone (ooh, love that shuffling rhythm!), and summery bubble-gum pop of 19-2000. And while the hit Clint Eastwood is immediate, other subtle tunes like New Genious, Man Research and Double Bass show album filler can be just as intriguing. And how does one classify the cinematic Sound Check? Ace, is how!

All said and done Gorillaz has held up incredibly well for a project that likely started as little more than a flight of fancy. Or maybe nostalgic memories of playing this alongside its stylistic-sibling Dreamcast game, Jet Set Radio, are clouding my judgement. Nah.

The Tea Party - The Edges Of Twilight

EMI Music Canada: 1995

Also known as that band that sounds like The Doors. What kind of silly comparison is that? Never have I heard a Ray Manzarek keyboard solo anywhere on a Tea Party song. And what’s that in the low frequencies? Why, an actual bass tone! The Doors don’t got no bass tone. Eh, what about their singer Jeff Martin? Well, okay, I guess he sounds like Jim Morrison - heck, he even looks like him too - but The Doors were more than just their wacky frontman, right. Right!?

Never mind. We’re focusing on The Tea Party here, one of many, many, many former Great Canadian Hopes. Part of the fun living in this country is, anytime a major label notices a potentially bankable band emerge, they’ll push the ever-loving hell out of them. Towards the late 90s, The Tea Party was yet another in such a long list of bands to receive that push, their first major exposure coming with the 1997 album Transmission. Prior to that, however, they were simply known as a good indie band that sounded quite different from the sort of rock you’d typically hear on the radio or TV. Oh, and they kind of sounded like The Doors too.

Actually, that comparison’s more apt when it comes to The Edges Of Twilight, as there’s a heavy Middle-Eastern influence running through the album, and thus the sort of ethnic fusion that was mighty popular in psychedelic circles of the '60s. Aside from Correspondence and Turn The Lamp Down Low, which lean more towards regular blues-rock, you have an abundance of un-Western cultural instrumentation and song craft (I’m stretching MS Word’s thesaurus, aren’t I?) mixing with standard hard rock galvanizing (yep). So basically, all that mystical mumbo-jumbo Morrison espoused, except now with a touch of Robert Plant pretention too. But hey, all three of the band members went out of their way to learn those oddball Indian instruments, and everything comes through sounding quite excellent in that mid-90s sort of way. It may sound derivative to seasoned rock fans, but the world music attributes tickle my ears the same way the best from the world beat camps often do.

The funny thing, though, is after Fire In The Head and The Bazaar (the first two songs), I can never remember how this album goes. Granted, it’s not like I have it high on my rotation; truthfully, I can’t recall when or how I picked it up, only that it was recent. I know I liked the first couple songs whenever a friend of mine would throw the album on though, but that was when it was new. I guess this would make The Edges Of Twilight an impulsive buy based around teenage nostalgia? Dear lord, I’m not that close to midlife, am I?

Anyhow, The Tea Party didn’t make much noise beyond my native country (and Australia, apparently), after which they’ve disbanded in ’05. They recently did a reunion tour though, so let’s see The Doors do that!

Pet Shop Boys - Disco 2

EMI Records: 1994

The whole of Pet Shop Boys’ discography seldom struck my fancy, but I cannot deny they’re responsible for some of the all-time greatest synth-pop hooks in existence. So seeing this little CD sitting in a used shop, my interest was certainly drawn - all the wonderful choruses of the Boys, given the remix treatment by some of the best in the early 90s business. “Like who?” asks you. “Like these,” says me. Rollo! Jam & Spoon! Junior Vasquez! David Morales! Farley & Heller! Coconut 1! Wait, who? Oh never mind. This should be good fun, right? Right!? Haha …ha!

The idea for Disco 2 was fine. Euro-dance was at its club culture peak, and the Pet Shop Boys had long enjoyed a comfortable relationship with DJs rinsing out remixes of their hits. It only made sense to try re-capturing the creative spark that made the first Disco album a success. The difference with that one, however, was it was more tightly controlled, with less remixers - not to mention dance music wasn’t quite so diverse in ’86. Even someone with passing familiarity with early 90s dance should realize quite a gulf had emerged between American house and euro trance. The Pet Shop Boys may have tied everything together, but the disparity between all these remixes is wide indeed.

That’s not such a big deal though. Plenty of remix albums are like that, and they’ve never- Wait, this is a DJ set too? Oh my… that can’t be good, can it? Danny Rampling was assigned the thankless task and does what he can with the material provided, but this mix is a mess. Ugly crossfade slams, tracks that abruptly end, and a bizarre arrangement hobble Disco 2’s package.

Most of these cuts were singles from the ‘93 album Very. The house remixes are a fine way to start, with Go West’s rub standing out from the pack. E Smoove, however, practically destroys Liberation, sounding like any ol’ Strictly Rhythm release rather than a Pet Shop Boys single. Vasquez and Jam & Spoon do serviceable remixes of Yesterday, but you’ve heard better from them too.

The only real highlight is Rollo and Rob Dougan’s remix of Absolutely Fabulous, probably intended as the highlight since the silly outfits the Boys wore for the video is featured on Disco 2’s cover. The original was a one-off charity single tied to a British sitcom of the same name, relegating this remix’s appearance here as the only ‘album’ exposure it got. It’s gloriously over-the-top and something of a precursor to the club anthems Rollo would be churning out with Faithless shortly after. I mean, that twitchy hook! It’s… it’s… absolutely fabulous! Perfect ‘reach for the lasers’ material.

Does Absolutely Fabulous make Disco 2 worth the price of admission? Hell no, as it’s horribly botched within the mix, abruptly cut out near the final peak. Get that as a single instead. In fact, get all of these tracks as singles if you can. This CD’s a turkey.