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.

The Black Dog - Spanners

Warp Records/EastWest Records America: 1994/1995

The only The Black Dog album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a The Black Dog fan. At least for casual music consumers, it was the only proper album you would get from them, because it was the only one most folks knew about. Their early self-released material may have been seminal works of leftfield techno, but mostly languished in obscurity from all but the most enlightened heads. It wasn’t until they snagged a spiffy deal with Warp Records that everyone finally took notice there was something interesting going on from this UK trio. Alas, those who initially slept on their early material would never see a glorious run following Spanners, Andy Turner and Ed Handley leaving to pursue their Plaid prospects. That left Ken Downie in the dust, Black Dog receding into an on/off project until hooking up with a pair of Dust brothers (no, not those Dust Brothers …or those other ‘Dust Brothers’) into a Black Dog Renaissance enjoyed to this day. It looked dicey for a while though, Spanners but a tantalizing tease for a promising legacy.

Another thing that propels Spanners above every other LP the group put out during the project’s Phase I era is how it’s the most album-album of all this period’s releases. Bytes was more a compilation of the group’s solo projects, Parallel a gathering of their earliest singles. Temple Of Transparent Balls, while officially The Black Dog’s first full-length, still came off like a smattering of disconnected tracks, understandable given the disparate muses the group clearly had. Spanners could have come off the same way too, had they not done a bit of clever track sequencing, linking the various main tracks with minute-length transitional pieces, or Bolts, as they titled them. They’re the glue holding Spanners together.

No, seriously, it’s remarkable how flowing this album is thanks to these experimental doodles. Opener Raxmus is a dub heavy piece of trip-hop business thick with THC haze, while second proper track Barbola Work sounds like the charmingly chintzy techno-salsa Yello might have made. These tunes have nothing in common, yet they sound natural in such close proximity thanks to Bolt 1’s weird, brief sonic experiments bridging the two. And Spanners is like this throughout!

Some track pairings don’t require Bolting, the ten-minute Detroit techno cut Psil Cosyin leading wonderfully into the tribal ambient thump of Chase The Manhattan. On the other hand, the laidback pastoral-hop of Pot Noddle only works in isolation, especially considering follow-up End Of Time is about as straight-forward a spaced-out techno cut as The Black Dog ever did. Bolt that right up, ol’ ancient sci-fi sounds of Bolt 6!

I will say, however, that due to all these interstitial Bolts, Spanners does feel overlong - nineteen tracks total, a third of which are Bolts. By the time final track Chesh is toying around with nods to modern classical harping, I’m about ready to tap out. So much eclecticism in this album. Just… so much…

Space Dimension Controller - Orange Melamine

Ninja Tune: 2016

I thought I’d have talked about Space Dimension Controller well before now, his Welcome To Mikrosector-50 a most pleasant surprise of an album when it came out in 2013. Then again, I thought I’d have nearly completed this massive listening project too, well passed the ‘W’s, and maybe even considering taking on the first few letters again for this blog’s completionist sake. Then again-again, I should have known more music would have come into my collector’s gravitational pull, sucked into my domain like so much cosmic detritus. My desire to consume everything and all knows no bounds, more insatiable than an unholy merger of Galactus and Unicron (Galacticron?). Good God, imagine if I could actually afford all that I wished to buy? I’d probably still be somewhere around the ‘G’s! (so much fabric, so much Global Underground)

Jack Hamill, the young man controlling all this space dimension, has kept a sporadic rate of output since first emerging with the moniker in 2009. R & S Records gave him his first major break in promoting his early singles and proper debut album, but he’s floated among a few other prints in the meanwhile too: Kinnego Records, Royal Oak, and now Ninja Tune. Whoa, talk of unexpected developments – what would the Ninja crew have in mind with a producer primarily focused on electro and loving nods to Detroitism?

Releasing the Space Dimension Controller archives, it seems. Orange Melamine unearths material from Jack Hamill’s teen years, back when he was still figuring things out about where he’d take his wayward muse in love with retro sounds. Seems the UK underground was just as much on his mind, as this album’s filled with jittery, post-dubstep beatcraft, a style Ninja Tune has shown plenty of interest in (at least, much more than R & S). In fact, Orange Melamine has a fair bit in common with all those influenced by Burial’s romanticism of clubbing days gone by, crackling hazy recollection of music from a fondly remembered Before Time. Rather than getting all misty-eared over UK garage and grime, however, Mr. Hamill has his muse set on retro-future sci-fi, as heard through the archaic crusty technologies of the 20th Century. For real, when I first heard The Bad People’s opening warbling distorted arps, I thought my headphone wire had a faulty connection!

Orange Melamine is a conflicting listen, one ear firmly in pulpy futurism, another in nostalgic fuzz, loosely held together with scratchy beats like so much sonic duct tape. Even the track titles flit between such sentiments - Adventures In Slime And Space, Multipass, Melting Velcro Shoes, Leader-1 (wait, the Go-Bots character?). Other times Mr. Hamill dabbles in simpler influences, like freak-out acid rave (Los Locos, Velvet Gentleman), pure electro funk (Gullfire), or Boards Of Canada trip-hop (Volvo Estate). It’s also all rather under-written compared to later works from Space Dimension Controller, but that’s unsurprising consider Jack’s age when making these. Definitely worth a playthrough though, if only for a different take on retro-future sounds.

Black Dog Productions - Bytes

Warp Records: 1993/2007

Most folks turn to this as the first Black Dog album, though that’s not exactly accurate. It features contributions from all of the group’s members at the time (Ken Downie, Ed Handley, and Andy Turner) operating under various guises from solo projects instead. Seems Warp Records, anxious in their continual expansion of the Artificial Intelligence series, wanted in on some of that buzz-worthy Black Dog action, but the group were already signed with General Production Recordings for an album deal. However, an exploitable loophole was discovered: take a smattering of EPs, lump them under the banner of “Black Dog Productions”, and have The Designer’s Republic design a track list that obscured these particulars. Sweet, now Warp Records can claim having a new album from The Black Dog in their catalog, sitting snug beside that Aphex-not-Aphex “Polygon Window” album. Man, did B12 give the early Warp this much fuss too?

Bytes contains tracks from nearly every alias the three chaps were using in 1993 (only one-off Twelve Days Of Night is absent). This includes Close Up Over, Xeper, Atypic, I.A.O., Discordian Popes, Balil, and Plaid. That last one you most definitely know, and funnily enough had a debut album out a couple years prior to this, Mbuki Mvuki, released on the label Black Dog Productions. Yep, the Black Dog boys briefly had their own label, which must be where all these various aliases originated from. Nah, that makes things far too simple for this story.

Ed Handley’s Balil had floated from a few seminal prints in its own right, among them R & S Records, Rising High Records, and Planet E; meanwhile, Andew Turner’s Atypic first appeared on Applied Rhythmic Technology (ART). The rest of these tracks and aliases seem custom made for this particular release, which further begs the question how this all came about. Like, was it really necessary for Downie to take on three different pseudonyms for this project? I’ll grant Discordian Popes stands out from Xeper and I.A.O., in that it’s a pure techno track, whereas the other two are more ambient techno, but there’s not that much difference between the three.

With no clear concept behind Bytes beyond showcasing the individual talents of The Black Dog’s members, it’s definitely a scattershot of a listening experience. The first few tracks lean more to the Detroit side of techno, though the seeds of IDM’s complex drum programming are clearly germinating within these efforts. When melodic elements are added in follow-up tracks, the notion of electronic music being as much suitable for ‘intelligent’ endeavors as dance floor utility is as evident as anything within the Artificial Intelligence series. Unfortunately, this is still one very ‘tracky’ album, much of Bytes’ middle jerkily moving from standard techno production to cautious experimental indulgence. Can’t fault that finish though, two blissy Balil cuts with funky Detroit action in the middle. Overall, this album's more consistent than the proper Black Dog debut, Temple Of Transparent Balls, though less adventurous too.

Boards Of Canada - Twoism

Music70/Warp Records: 1995/2002

I have difficulty thinking of Twoism as part of the official Boards Of Canada long-player lexicon, for no better reason than it initially wasn’t. After the rousing success of Music Has The Right To Children, it wasn't long befor legions of new fans with melted youthful hearts were digging for anything else from the Scottish duo. Savvy heads already knew of their initial EP on Skam, Hi Scores, but word soon spread of a treasure trove of older, ultra-rare material lurking in the shadows of obscurest realms. Some of these are so rare, their very existence is continuously called into question - considering a lack of bootlegs or credible internet uploads, not an unfounded notion. The web always finds a way of unearthing music, always.

For a brief time, Twoism was among these mythical artifacts. Story goes the early Boards recordings were limited to tapes circulated among family and friends, but Twoism received a slightly larger distribution via vinyl. Mind, this was still self-released on their Music70 print, with a mere one-hundred copies pressed, but at least there were confirmed physical records out there, exchanging collector’s hands for pounds of quid (that the saying, right? Help me out, Brits!). Well, these Boards Of Canada were having none of that – why should the trader’s market profit from something they themselves could make bank off? Thus, Twoism saw a proper re-issue on Warp Records, sending those who took out mortgages to own the original wax weeping into the English moors. Or not, those initial pressings undoubtedly still commanding ridiculous sums from the discerning collector. Still, how nice us plebs get to enjoy this music too.

Given the near-cultish fanbase Boards Of Canada developed, it’s no surprise this was a highly sought record. Fortunately, such digging efforts were rewarded with an album that captures the Boards spirit as capably as any of their other LPs. For sure it’s more simplistic compared to what came after, most of their beats the barest of hip-hop rhythms. Meanwhile, the melodies stick to basic, lengthy loops of layered synth and timbre, with very little songcraft exhibited beyond what’s established early in a track. Still, those synth tones… every bit as warm, fuzzy, charming, nostalgic, day-glowy, and other descriptors you’ve read countless times in a BoC review. I could probably eat up my entire self-imposed word-count rattling them all off.

A couple things differentiates Twoism from their later work though, most notably the tracks Iced Cooly and Basefree. Both harkens to IDM’s earlier years, the former a bouncy electro jaunt, the latter an abrasive drill-beat number that sounds unlike anything in the Boards’ official canon. Still finding their way, clearly the lads from Hexagon Sun are. Also, the sound quality of their productions is rougher here, but that’s expected of an early album.

That’s all I have to say about Twoism. It was an album deemed ‘must-have’ back when it was rare as unicorn shit, and thanks to the Warp reissue, everyone can have it. Yay!

Boards Of Canada - Trans Canada Highway (Original TC Review)

Warp Records: 2006

(2016 Update:
Another first-time review of a major act, another review with redundant information now that I've long since reviewed many more albums from said act. At least I didn't get too heavy into it with this EP, providing an obligatory (if flakey) backstory, with a thrown in theory to boot. It's a good theory, my thoughts on the Boards' popularity, but one that had already been floating around, namely that of 'hauntology'. A rather obscure term, Simon Reynolds really explored it in describing the aesthetic of acts like Boards Of Canada (among others like Burial and label Ghost Box). Not that I had any realization of that in here, a decade ago, but yeah, totally reiterating concepts with far more studies into them by people who get paid for such things.

Left Side Drive just might be my favorite Boards tune, though you wouldn't know from this review. Seems every time I hear it again, it draws me ever deeper into that warm bass and distant dub, losing my headspace in reflections of traversing British Columbian wilderness. It's like Silent Season distilled into five minutes of sonic bliss, and so worth repeated plays of this pleasant little EP. Hey, remember when we thought this might be the last thing Boards would ever release? Fun times!)


IN BRIEF: Traveling in Canada.

I’ve seen few fanbases grow as quickly, as widespread, and as fanatical as for the enigmatic group Boards Of Canada. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere when Warp released their album Music Has The Right To Children, they gave an ailing intelligent techno scene (or IDM, if you will) a much needed boost in the late 90s when many producers had either tried and failed at commercial success (‘electronica’) or plummeted into incomprehensible experimentation. BoC provided the antidote: interesting sonic experiments, but without abandoning digestible rhythms and melodies.

It was more than that though. BoC’s music contains an undeniable nostalgic tinge to it. Many have tried to explain how they do it but none have managed to come up with a concrete theory; which, along with a scarce back catalogue, has added to their mystique.

I won’t claim to have that answer either, but I will offer my own theory: Boards Of Canada create the music of memories. Not yours, or mine, or anyone’s in particular, but of memories itself; or rather, how we hear music in our own memories. Despite our best efforts, when music plays back in our minds it is never quite accurate, and clings at the edge of our consciousness, fading over time. BoC’s lo-fi production seems to replicate this remarkably well, and when warm, pleasing synth tones are used, childhood memories are instinctively thought of. With such universal appeal, its little wonder even indie rockers melt at hearing a Boards Of Canada melody.

Of course, BoC shouldn’t be restrained by single musical ideas, but this is where their main appeal lies. After delving into organic instrumentation on last year’s The Campfire Headphase, many of their fans were very happy to hear a return to the sound of Children on this release, Trans Canada Highway. But despite being less a single for Dayvan Cowboy (of which two versions bookend this) and more of a mini-album, there’s still very little new material that’ll satisfy their rabid fans.

For casual fans though, two tracks should interest them: Left Side Drive and Skyliner. Unlike Dayvan, which willfully makes use of orchestral arrangements and acoustic guitars along with various electronic trickery, these two are quite vintage in their production. Left Side Drive lets lazy, dubby rhythms stroll along while warm, hazy pads float in the background. And Skyliner makes a more immediate presence with quicker scattering rhythms and leading synths. While perhaps simple in their presentation, especially compared to Dayvan, both should satisfy if you crave BoC’s older style. The other two are merely ambient interludes, which are common in many of their albums. Pleasant enough, but hardly essential.

As for the remix of Dayvan, Odd Nosdam does the drone ambient thing, seemingly playing up the ‘memory’ aspect of BoC’s music with one of their own tracks. Between stretches of white noise interludes, bits of Dayvan crop up, then fades away before returning to droning sounds. An interesting listen but, like the other ambient parts of Trans Canada Highway, that is all.

Ultimately, this EP is a sparse, lonely listen, which makes sense given the title. As anyone that has driven the Trans Canada Highway can attest to, or any highway in lightly populated areas of Canada for that matter, it can be a lonesome experience (great scenery though). Having grown up in parts of the country where significant towns are often up to three hours apart, I’d travel long stretches of winding, single-lane roads snaking across mountain-sides and through forests, the only company being those in your car and the intermittent vehicle passing by. Trans Canada Highway, when listened to as a whole, uncannily replicates such a trip... or maybe that’s just that memory thing again. Still, for a Scottish duo, they are quite good at capturing aspects of Canadiana along with incredibly nostalgic music.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2006. © All rights reserved.

Lorenzo Montanà - Leema Hactus

Psychonavigation Records: 2014

Part two of Lorenzo Montanà’s trilogy on Psychonavigation Records, all released within a three years span of each other. As if that wasn’t enough, he put out another album on Carpe Sonum Records the same year this came out, to say nothing of two additional 2015 LPs alongside the final chapter of Trilogy, Vari Chromo. Does this guy just keep stockpiling music all the live long day? And have I already rhetorically asked this question in a previous review? Feels like I have, but I’m too lazy to hop in my time machine and ask January 2016 Sykonee if he’s written a similar query in Black Ivy or Serpe. In any case, we’re definitely getting a right-proper crash course in Mr. Montanà’s music these past few months.

If you’ve been following these Lorenzo reviews since the beginning, you might have noticed a pattern emerge in the quality of albums. Black Ivy was interesting, but unfocused, while Serpe was a splendid improvement. Eilatix, however, felt like a step back, so that must mean Leema Hactus springs back with the goods, right? Yeah, it does, but come on; you can’t seriously buy this line of logic? It’s too small a sample size to form any accurate model, and I’d be rightfully roasted by crusading statisticians on social media for peddling such pseudo analytics in the form of a music review. Whoops, getting sidetracked as always!

Leema Hactus is another great album from Mr. Montanà, taking the dynamic songcraft shown in Serpe and expanding upon it even further. There’s ample ambient techno, dubby pad work, clicky-glitch rhythms ranging from brisk tempos to subdued chillers, and gentle-sweet melodies throughout, some of which are among the best I’ve heard from Lorenzo. Greenlift will utterly melt your heart, I tell you what; like hearing a melancholy fairy lullaby as fireflies dance in twilight.

Most of Leema Hactus has an undercurrent of gardens, what with tracks titles like Conflict Garden, Emerald, Hynogreen, Greenlift, and Dew Flow. The cover art doesn’t hurt in selling that notion either, though I do wonder what the album’s title means. I searched about the Googles for it, and very little came up. ‘Leema’ is apparently a lady’s name, kind of like how Peru’s capital, Lima, is a name. ‘Hactus’ may be a name as well, but when Mr. Montanà’s album eats up the first twenty search returns, I’ve very little to go on. One day, maybe I’ll try that ‘journalist’ thing of asking the producers questions for my answers. Conjecture though, it’s much funner.

Anything else? There’s a dubstep track in here, the track Dew Flow. Well, one of those half-step breaks that the genre abused, to the point you can’t help but expect a horrible wub-wub accompanying it. Lorenzo don’t do that though, instead serving up gracious, delicate melodies as he’s wont to do in this album. Chillstep, you say? No it’s, um, ambient techno, with a fresh rhythm to your standard trip-hop steps. Yeah, that’ll do.

The Black Dog - Temple Of Transparent Balls

General Production Recordings/Soma Quality Recordings: 1993/2007

Though not as critically acclaimed as The Black Dog's contributions to Warp Records, their debut album on lesser-known General Production Recordings was no less highly sought after. Because when you develop a cult-like following of fans based on scene respect, multiple aliases, rotating members, and a significant gap of new material, every item in your discography becomes essential. It don't matter whether it's a seminal EP, or a wack dalliance collab', some records you will hunt and commit top dollar for. Or just wait for a friendly future label to re-issue the obscure stuff for a new audience. Patience will always be a virtue, always.

So it is with Temple Of Transparent Balls, the official first album from The Black Dog. Technically, Ken Downie, Andy Turner, and Ed Handley had an LP out just prior to this one on Warp, though Bytes was more a compilation featuring their other projects and aliases (Plaid, Xeper, Balil, others), thus presented as Black Dog Productions. That whole ‘currently being signed to General Production Recordings’ fact may have had something to do with it too. Give some credit to the front-runner for ‘Most Generically Named Music Label’ though, taking a chance on the trio as a kick-off act, and rescuing The Black Dog out of self-release purgatory.

If the Warp association and Plaid lineage didn’t clue you in yet, Temple Of Transparent Balls is way old-school UK techno - finding its way out of bleep rave of before, yet not quite there with IDM of af’aire (?). There’s quite a bit of adventurous music making going on in this CD, though a good deal of familiarity too, the opening salvo of Cost I and Cost II a prime example. The first features a lone, spritely arp doodling along for four out of the track’s five minutes, finally joined in by a bouncy electro beat. Meanwhile, Cost II has all my Higher Intelligence Agency triggers flashing, which isn’t a bad thing, but does send me into double-take mode. For the most part, Temple Of Transparent Balls plays half-and-half with the experimental and traditional techno, alternating between the two throughout. As can be expected of an act still in their early years, the traditional stuff is mint, but the attempts at leftfield techno definitely needed some refinement.

Thus you get cool tunes like brisk, beatless 4, 7, 8, Detroit breakbeat of Jupiler (not a typo... maybe), acid funk of Sharp Shooting On Saturn, peppy jazz-fusion of Mango, and Aphex ambient techno of In the Light Of Grey. Elsewhere, there’s muddled space tachyon techno in The Actor And Audience, droning cyber-mamba Kings Of Sparta, and dull, mind-numbing grit-techno in Cycle (at over seven minutes, the longest track too, unfortunately). These have interesting ideas, but lack finesse in arrangement or choice of sounds.

Nay, the only truly enjoyable oddball track is The Crete That Crete Made, a lazy, hazy jaunt with dubbed-out organs and warm pads. It’s like getting stoned at a seaside Renaissance fair.

Seán Quinn - Skylines

Psychonavigation Records: 2002

You know you always get the clean, uncut sparkling varnished honesty from me, right? Sure you do, that’s why you’re always coming back here. I think. That whole ‘consistent new reviews’ also may have something to do with it. I’d imagine my thoughts on music have garnered some small repute at this stage too. Maybe it’s just to indulge in this ‘gimmick’ o’ mine, to see what item alphabetically pops up next in my mad quest to listen to everything I have. Gotta’ admit that’s why I keep hoping Sarah O’Holla returns to her similar endeavor at My Husband’s Stupid Record Collection, genuine curiosity over whether some obscure 1982 post no-wave punk 7” might crop up next, or one of the big guns I love reading other people’s opinions on (so long to go before Neil Young …so very long). Wait, I’ve gone way off topic here. Darn feverish state of mind - will this flu ever let up?

Here’s the truthiful proclamation I was trying to get at: initial impressions of a lot o’ these Psychonavigation Records records kinda’ bled altogether into one fuzzy-photo of cover art. I get that it’s a visual aesthetic the label cultivated for itself (because Boards), but when one binge-buys a back-catalog as I did, it makes distinguishing between CDs difficult, especially when dealing with almost entirely new names. There’s little chance at taking each in on their own merits, digesting their nuances before moving onto the next in the pile in some slim hopes a crash session can give you some lasting impressions. I couldn’t tell the Seán Quinns from the Ciaran Byrnes, the Skylines from the Picnics With Pylons, the Boards Of Canada sounding tunes from the other Boards Of Canada sounding tunes. Getting down to write a review of each these CDs definitely helped me in distinguishing between them, if nothing else for discovering more info behind the artists involved.

For instance, Seán Quinn was yet another big ol’ blank when I first got this CD, and remained as such despite listening to it a couple times, the music getting lost among all the other Psychonavigation material I drowned myself in. Turns out though, he’s done little solo LPing anyway, this and a recent Audiobiography his only albums. On the other hand, Lord Discogs tells me he’s part of the electro-pop duo Tiny Magnetic Pets (who’d also released on Psychonavigation), which I feel I should know from somewhere, but could be getting mixed up with a similar sounding band (ergh, it’s buggin’ me!).

Another reason Skylines had trouble sinking in is it’s all over the place. There are skitzy beats, abstract ambient, twee pop, mellow Boards nods (of course), and not much linking it together. Imbrium is the sort of grand space ambient I’d expect out of Ultimae, while Yellow Magnetic wants to have its orchestral breakcore and eat DJ Food too. Wait, what? Okay, the fever’s setting in again. Better wrap this up now.

Various - Simulus

Psychonavigation Records: 2002

We’re going way back in Psychonavigation’s history with this one, folks. Back to the time before they earned much rep’ outside their native Dublin. Before the change when they focused primarily on artist albums. The years when their chief output was the compilation. An era where vinyl was still on their market! The age after the oceans drank Atlantis and before the rise of the sons of Aryas; the days of high adventure! No, wait, that's too far. Pretty sure this label's of a more recent era than when Conan The Barbarian was lopping heads aplenty. The beginning of Americanaland’s end, yeah, that'll do.

Having taken in all these Psychonavigation albums now, I feel I’ve gotten a decent bead on who’s their main acts, who’s their outside contributors, and so on. I look at the track list for Simulus though, and I’m drawing a blank on nearly everyone here. Move D shows up, taking some time away from his hundred-zillionth session with Pete Namlook to provide a jazzy, smoky, blues-hop number in Downtime. A few other names on Simulus have a decent amount of Discogian presence. The Rip-Off Artist released some eight LPs in a very short amount of time in the early ‘00s, with the man behind the name, Matt Haines, working with about a half-dozen other aliases before and since too. A couple others, like The Last Sound and EU, have continued releasing material to this day, though on various different labels than Psychonavigation. Names like Matthew Devereux and Manta even got albums out on this print shortly after. Mostly though, we’re dealing with artists that had a few items out around the time this compilation was released, and promptly disappeared shortly after from all Lord Discogs’ records. Except for Undermine, I have no idea what their story is, the Discogian link directing me to an American hardcore punk band from the early ‘90s. Psychonavigation’s done a few dalliances in its genre explorations, but I’m pretty darn sure Keith Downey’s never been tempted to go that route.

Instead, Simulus is another CD that supports my association of Psychonavigation with Shadow Records, in that this is one seriously trip-hoppin’ collection of tunes. For sure we get a few glitch IDM cuts too, such as Mantra’s click-n-bass Endent, The Rip-Off Artist’s bleep-hop Thief Of Hearts, and The Last Sound’s neurofunky Life Flashes, though that’s served as a specific segment showcasing such sounds. In fact, Simulus is separated into four such distinct parts, each with a brief intermission called Got That? marking the transition. Makes more sense for the vinyl version I guess, but it’s cool to hear some concept being applied to a compilation regardless.

Mostly though, the tunes on Simulus do that turn of the century trip-hop thing a lot of labels were doing in Ninja Tune’s wake, with spicy splashes of other genres for good measure - breaks in The Turner Experience from Dan Warren, ambient techno in Winter from EU. An interesting CD, all said.

Lorenzo Montanà - Serpe

Fax +49-69/450464/Psychonavigation Records: 2011/2015

Somewhere during all those Labyrinth session with Pete Namlook, Lorenzo Montanà found the time to release a second solo effort on Fax +49-69/450464 called Serpe. With but a two year turnaround from his previous debut of Black Ivy, not to mention the six full-lengths released in the past three years, I'm getting the feeling ol' Lorenzo's one of those 'studio sluts'. You know the sort, spending endless days and nights huddled behind consoles and computers, synths and hardware, plus a few assorted 'real' instruments like guitars or glockenspiels. But hey, sometimes you just feel that creative pulse, propelling you from project to project in perpetuity. Though let’s not get ahead of ourselves; Mr. Montanà’s not any sort of Merzbow type. He, y’know, actually makes albums with a consistent theme to them, and all.

Yeah, I mentioned a problem with his first one was that it was missing that key ‘album’ flow, that it came off as little more than a collection of nicely produced, unconnected tracks. That point still stands (it’s only been a month since I made it), but that time spent jamming away in labyrinths with The Namlookian One must have helped refine Lorenzo’s craft, as Serpe is a marked improvement over Black Ivy. For one thing, there’s an actual theme to this album, each track title the name of a different sort of snake from the world abroad. I suppose Black Ivy had a loose plant theme going for it too, but much like the music on that LP, it wasn’t consistent.

Consistency, yes, that’s what Serpe’s got going for it. Every track maintains a running tone throughout, of moody, mysterious ambient techno with splashes of clicky glitch. While by no means an unique assortment of sounds at his disposal, Mr. Montanà comes off most comfortable working within this template, giving him the more freedom to write music fitting this concept than concern himself with technical aspects. I mean, the titualar opener sounds like an actual opener, an atmospheric little number with a stirring synth refrain and soft percussion nestled under washed-out white noise field effects, treated guitar plucking riffing off it for a brief portion before giving way to distant explosions. I’m not sure what this has to do with snakes, exactly, but tickle me intrigued for what comes next.

From there Serpe does the easy-cool build as most solid albums do. The next few tracks stick to the downtempo side of things, a groovy little number in Elaps Harlequin followed by a spritely chill piece in Dugite, while Mamushi features another lovely subdued melody within its stark dub ambient realm. As per course, the second half of Serpe ups the tempo some, Agkistrodon getting almost downright trance at points, though ol’ Lorenzo sure doesn’t hold back his fondness for the skittery side of IDM rhythms in Elaphe and Habu. Final two tracks Acrochordidae and Demansia go wide-screen in their production, and I’m left wondering how Mr. Montanà hasn’t ended up on Ultimae yet.

Imploded View - Picnics With Pylons

Psychonavigation Records: 2012

Another day, another ultra-obscure Irish producer with an album on Psychonavigation Records. How obscure this time? Lord Discogs has nadda’ on Imploded View. No real name for the alias, no brief words regarding what the project’s about, not even a bloomin’ photo for the man. There are links to his Facebook, Twitter, and Bandcamp though, but you’ll find even less helpful background on the chap, one of the blurbs proudly proclaiming “Reluctantly/Happily testing the bounds of obscurity.” Hell, the only reason I have any notion that Imploded View is a dude is the inlay of this digipak has a picture of someone in silhouette that appears to be male. Not that it confirms anything, as any sex can rock the ‘short hair, oval head, high collar’ look. However, when someone refers to Imploded View as ‘Jerome’ on the Twoism.org forums, I’m gonna’ go with my hunch that it’s a He we’re dealing with. Only the finest journalistic sleuthing on this blog, yo’!

If the purposeful enigmatic persona, faded photographic cover art, and Twoism.org association weren’t clues enough, Imploded View is also another Psychonavigation Records artist that’s feeling the Boards of Canada vibe. Fortunately, it’s not quite as blatant as Ciaran Byrne’s Nine Lives Causeway was, the music here sounding distinct enough that you wouldn’t mistake it for a long-lost tape from the Scottish duo. For instance, the track Boring Robot has a way-laidback groove coupled with childlike charm and snippets of unintelligible voices – sounds like BoC’s Roygbiv, don’t it? Mr. View, however, adds a thick layer of morning-glow pad, as strained a metaphor as any I can come up with, but oddly apt. It’s like, Roygbiv is the track you hear before you head out on the night, and Boring Robot is the hazy recollection of that track come dawn.

That’s what listening to Picnics With Pylons is like, hearing tunes that vaguely remind you of Boards Of Canada, but through the murk of many years later. Which makes total sense considering the undeniable impact BoC’s had on producers fancying nostalgic downtempo analog jams. Not to be left out of the memory-fuzz stylee, a couple of these have that desolate, urban squalor Burial made his namesake too (Astral Airways, Snowflake Bentley). Others find their own, quirky path without any immediate signifiers, like the crisp beatcraft of Across the Snow, or the cinematic flourishes of trip-hoppin’ We Ivy. Or my limited experience in the field of ‘obvious Boards Of Canada musicks is obvious’ has left a gap in recognizing other notable names I should be droppin’.

Whether this makes Imploded View different enough for you to check out Picnics With Pylons out, that’s all up to you. Yeah, not the most winning endorsement there, and despite the unique things I’ve detailed, this LP’s ultimately still just another collection of modestly interesting downtempo music from Psychonavigation Records. ‘Jerome’ can craft some pleasant, quirky little numbers here, but as an album, this is but a bit of ephemeral fluff. Yes, fancy simile score!

Ciaran Byrne - Nine Lives Causeway

Psychonavigation Records: 2008

I recently wrote it’s not such a bad thing finding influence and inspiration from other prominent electronic music groups and artists, especially those from the ‘90s. Hell, it’s such an oft repeated refrain on this blog that it could almost be a secondary by-line. “Enjoying The Past, So Long As It Still Sounds Like The Future.” I’m sure Simon Reynolds has copiously espoused (whee, fancy words!) on this topic, getting lost in retro naval gazing to the detriment of what’s potentially current and new, and it’s a fair point. However, I contend electronic music, in theory, has such a diverse palette and near-limitless resource to draw from, that all it takes is a little creative ingenuity to find a unique spin on a tried-and-true sound. Acid house may have an incredibly base foundation, but no two producers will tweak those 303 knobs the same. It almost seems more difficult to actively copy another track sound for sound than to fiddle with the template in your own fashion. So imagine my surprise in hearing Nine Lives Causeway from Ciaran Byrne, an album mimicking Boards Of Canada so exactly, you’d think it was the Scottish duo hiding under a pseudonym.

Mr. Byrne certainly isn’t the first or last to take on the lo-fi leftfield nostalgic trip-hop BoC stylee. Dan Snaith’s early Manitoba work comes to mind as an obvious comparison, and I’ve no doubt plenty more ultra-obscure producers have dabbled in crackly analog gear for a post-clubbing generation. This album though… I mean, seriously, c’mon, mang! This sounds more Boards Of Canada than Boards Of Canada sounded on Geogaddi. I’ve little doubt I could play this to any casual fan under the assumption it was another unearthed Boards Of Canada artifact, and they’d wholly fall for it. But this isn’t Boards Of Canada.

This is Ciaran Byrne, or Ross Adey to the Dublin Detachment. He’s released a couple albums through Psychonavigation Records, and contributed to the One On Twoism compilations, a series by Twoism Records, featuring music from the Twoism Forum. Even without sampling them, I’ve a very strong notion of the sort of music on those CDs, Boards Of Canada love running deep in the online world. Not to mention ongoing, that series active to this day. Not so much Mr. Adey though, his Discogian info drying up after this album.

Everything about Nine Lives Causeway screams Boards Of Canada. Tracks like Moving Sungold, Catriona’s Liquid Hourglass, Circular Bruno, and Axiom tap the playful side of their sound, whereas Dustbeam and Ode To Able Sail go more reflective with low-slung beatcraft. Meanwhile, fuzzy ambient abstractions like They Won’t Find You Here, Pyrite Eventide, and Blue Gaze wrap the listener up like a childhood comforter blanket. Yep, that’s some Boards action right there.

Still, we’ve a fine little album here if you don’t mind having more Boards Of Canada music that’s not by Boards Of Canada. For a while, it seemed like this was all we’d ever get again.

Maschine - Maschine

Psychonavigation Records: 2011

You know who this label's reminding me of? Shadow Records. Not so much for the music style, though both clearly have a thing for genres that defined the '90s. Right, that makes all the sense with Shadow since they started in the '90s, but they carried on into the new millennium with one foot still firmly planted in the prior decade too. What I mean though, is both Shadow and Psychonavigation Records seem to love scouring their nearby lands for obscure, unheralded talent that fits their musical manifesto. Shadow was clearly in love with sounds Ninja Tune nurtured (being their short-lived American distributor didn't hurt), and Psychonavigation comes off more fond of Warp, Apollo, and other assorted seminal IDM labels. Still, this is the only similarity between the two – ain't no way an album from one or the other might share some stylistic sound. Nope, no how. Except now, brown cow.

So here’s Maschine, who’s self-titled debut on Psychonavigation Records reminds me of something Shadow Records might have put out in one of their more adventurous efforts. There’s jazzy-hop beats. There’s snazzy d’n’b rhythms. There’s deep rumbling dubby bass. There’s an undeniable inner city cool running through this album... for about the first half anyway. The back-half goes more vintage braindance territory, thus here’s your obligatory namedrops for comparison (Autechre, Aphex Twin, Squarepusher). Almost kind of a shame, if I’m honest, as I was much preferring the Amon Tobin leaning cuts from earlier in the album. Still, best of both worlds from Maschine, his tracks unique enough to stand out from a plenty overstuffed IDM market while retaining that retro ‘90s charm. Oh, we’re not allowed to called ‘90s music retro yet? C’mon, it’s been two decades; the ‘80s can’t keep hogging the word forever.

As for the man behind Maschine, Lord Discogs draws a total blank, but the liner notes provide a few tidbits of info. Mostly a live PA act headed by Eoin Coughlan and Aza Hand, though primarily fronted by Eoin at the time of this release. The jazz influences aren’t accidental either, Mr. Coughlan having been brought up in an environment surrounded by the music - his mother's apparently big on the Irish jazz scene, which is fascinating to me that such a scene even exists. Overall, Maschine sounds like the sort of act that burbles in local obscurity for years (Vancouver’s got lots of them), and likely would have remained as such had Psychonavigation not given them a little extra promotional bump. Interestingly, they retain Prime honors for the ‘Maschine’ handle at Lord Discogs. Has there seriously never been another act to use the name before Eoin and Aza entered the database? I mean, you’d think someone in the German techno scene would have claimed it in all these years. Someone with a fuller discography than this Maschine’s. Well, if not, props to you, lads. Good album too, one worth a few additional playthroughs for those days remembering when Autechre used to write melodies.

Lorenzo Montanà - Black Ivy

Fax +49-69/450464/Psychonavigation Records: 2009/2015

For a chap who’s relatively flown under the radar, Lorenzo Montanà’s built up quite the remarkable discography for himself. He got his break releasing this particular album back in Fax +49-69/450464’s waning days, but more impressively released five LPs titled Labyrinth with Pete Namlook. Meanwhile, Mr. Montanà found the time to release a second full-length, Serpe, on the label before they were forced to shut doors following Mr. Kaulmann’s untimely death. This all happened within the span of three years! I know the Namlookian One could draw several sessions out of well-known musicians (Klaus Schulz, Move D, Bill Laswell, etc.) but it’s damn cool he continued doing it even with new cats on the scene too. He must have had quite the synergy going with ol’ Lorenzo to rattle off so much music with him in such a short amount of time.

When Fax+ folded, Mr. Montanà migrated over to Psychonavigation Records, where he continues releasing albums at an impressive clip. Somehow they rescued his two solo releases from legal limbo as a 2CD reissue, which is technically what I’m reviewing here now. But Black Ivy is a ‘B’ album, while Serpe is an ‘S’ album, so part two of this double release will have to wait a month (really).

So now that I’ve namedropped a couple labels and producers with clearly recognizable music styles (Psychonavigation is recognizable on this blog now, yes?), that saves me some word count in describing Mr. Montanà’s work here. Because this is some difficult stuff to detail, believe you me. Not that Black Ivy is over-produced with micro-edits and the like, his forays into clicky minimalism quite tasteful and easy to take in - it kinda’ rests in the Venn diagram where classic ambient techno ends and modern IDM starts. His rhythms run the range from jazzy skitters (Erasing You, Kirkuk Lake, Misteries Of Nature) to downtempo click-glitch (Insect Invasion, Haliaras) to steady techno pulse (Sap 2, Dionaea, Black Ivy). Everything’s coupled with lush melodic pieces, usually melancholic and nicely wide-screened for an optimal listening experience. Not that I’d expect less from someone who made multi-channel albums with Namlook.

Despite these nice things said about Black Ivy, you’ve undoubtedly detected a hint of apathy with my words above. Two points of contention then. First, though this is a 2009 release, for some reason I keep thinking it’s from much earlier, say 2001-ish. The mild glitch production does keep it firmly current, but the ideas have me thinking material from a decade earlier. Did Mr. Montanà have a ton of stored, unreleased material before debuting with this?

It’d explain my other quibble with Black Ivy, in that this album doesn’t feel like an album-LP, just a collection of finely crafted tracks. Certainly nothing wrong with that, and I’d be amazed if ol’ Lorenzo knocked it out of the park on his first go. It’s a debut that shows tons of future promise in his career, just in need of some refinement with the format.

Aphex Twin - Syro

Warp Records: 2014

Hey, remember when there was a new Aphex Twin album? Boy, it sure was an exciting time when that new Aphex Twin album showed up out of nowhere. Everyone got to wax nostalgic about what Aphex Twin's music meant to them again. Music rags got to write up Aphex Twin retrospectives for the fourth or fifth time. Journalists got to pontificate on why Aphex Twin is such a Very Important Person in the world of techno again. Folks were just plain ol' happy to see Aphex Twin active again, even though Richard D. James hadn't left in the first place. And we wouldn’t take him for granted as we did following Druqks, no sir. We’d keep him on that pedestal he earned back in the ‘90s, forever proclaiming the new Aphex Twin album an LP without peer, beyond compare, the best new music now and forever, a- oh, wait, no one’s talking much about Syro anymore, are they. Damn, maybe he should stop flooding his Soundcloud with so much music, let us soak in an actual album for a change.

So Syro: the record with a simple title and a dozen confounding song titles (and a hilarious expenses list that runs for six foldouts!). Rumours abound as to why the RDJ’d One felt compelled to give the world another full-length of music, though as with all things with the man from the lands of Cornish, it was probably all just a whim. Like, did he really need money again? Would Warp Records really pester him to fulfill a record deal? Nah, more plausible he just wanted a chuckle over the salivating reactions at seeing the Aphex Twin moniker reactivated. Nice of him to supply us with a solid album of tunes in the process.

While no two releases from Are Deejay ever sound the same, this does have some similarities to his mid-‘90s work than anything else. There isn’t so much micro-computer editing, drill-n-bassing, or real instrument keyboard doodling, but rather getting a playful groove on, tinkering with some sounds and effects, and riding an electro acid-funk jam wherever it may lead. Considering how much Aphex Twin always sounded weird and alien, it’s odd hearing him doing something that sounds much closer to our earthly realms. True, it’s future-Earth we’re dealing with, but we’re still on good ol’ terra firma just the same. Get some shuffle on with, er, that third track. Or find yourself at a robot junglist party with, um, those last run of tracks. Or feel that throwback rave anthem with the fifth cut.

Look, I’m not gonna’ actually name these tracks. They read like computer gibberish, probably are just some random nonsense Jamesy Boy slapped together, and only gave them ‘proper’ titles so stuffy music journalists would look like bellends trying to write critical prose with Syro u473t8+e [Piezoluminescence Mix] as part of a sentence. Well, I ain’t falling for that, I tell you what.

Anyway, Syro is a good album from Aphex Twin.

Various - Die Welt Ist Klang: A Tribute To Pete Namlook (CD4)

Carpe Sonum Records: 2014

Scratch what I said at the end of the previous review. Here's where we find our offering of old-school trance, at the start of CD4! Pino &Wildjamin's Some Filter For Namlook has gated synths, subtle acid tweakage, minor key melodies, and even bleepy sci-fi arpeggios. Yeah, they use an electro break for their rhythm, and the track was originally from 1995, but dammit, it's the closest thing I've heard to any sort of vintage German trance in the box set, so I'm counting it. Honestly though, this probably should have been on CD3, were it not for the forced compromise of limited space on such antiquated technology. Playing Die Welt Ist Klang as a digital playlist of music, Some Filter For Namlook follows quite smoothly from Glitch's Kick The Habit. Oh, and about that track, turns out it was a remastered 1994 cut, hence the classic vibes I got off it. It’s difficult back-checking every single track in the FAX catalogue, y’know.

Some Filter For Namlook is also something of an outlier for CD4. The artists that make up this disc are primarily the artsy abstract sorts that cared little for house, techno, or even ambient. As ol’ Pete’s muse grew ever more restless in years following his ‘90s breakout, he started branching out into psychedelic rock, jazzy futurism, cinematic orchestrations, and throwback musique concrete. Not so much his own output, mind you, but he did take on such musicians within the Fax +49-69/450464 fold. The only name I recognize out of this bunch is Move D, who’s Regentropfen (Reprise) is all sorts of druggy jazz sludge. And yes, Mr. Moufang gets two solo tracks on this collection. Twenty-plus albums with Namlook!

I can’t deny CD4 is an interesting disc, but only as far as you’re willing to indulge the most extreme of music expressionism. Some of it goes for the New Berlin school of krautrock experiments (Aerial Service Area’s Cloud 2, Nikolaus Heyduck’s Lago Largo, Ludwig Rehberg’s Pink Pearl), others for improvised tonal harmony with pianos, taiko drums, and woodblocks (okay, only Hane’s Dazwischen). There’s some really naff jazz on here too, Sprya’s Sodbrennen sounding like a preloaded keyboard demo – at least that one’s only three minutes long.

And then there’s the plain ol’ weirdness. Victor Sol plays metal resonance in Gong #1, and Oskar Sala spits white noise and reverberating blips and bleeps in Anwendung Elektronischer Musik Für Den Film Von Oskar Sala. Wait, didn’t he start this electronic music shit; and this the thanks I give? I don’t think he ever worked with Namlook or on FAX, but you cannot deny the influence he undoubtedly had on a young Kaulmann.

In comparison, the surrounding tracks aren’t quite so leftfield. Gate Zero does dubby, chill trip-hop with The Ache, Burhan Öçal’s Seyh'in Rüyasi sounds like it belongs on a Six Degrees Records compilation, and Bardo Thödol lays echoing prog guitar over gentle braindance beats. Man, after all this, where else can Die Welt Ist Klang take us?

Various - Die Welt Ist Klang: A Tribute To Pete Namlook (CD3)

Carpe Sonum Records: 2014

Of all the discs in this box set, CD3 has the highest ratio of artists I'm familiar with. That isn't an impressive stat, if I'm honest, as nearly everyone following this one is entirely new to my eyes. You'd think someone with a music collection nearing the four-digit mark should know a more than this. 'Tis not so, my knowledge but a mote of dust in the impossibly vast realm that is Pete Namlook's Influence. I'm not even sure whether these are all new names or scene veterans that have burbled in obscurity for all this time – guess I'll find out when I deal with their discs. Meanwhile, let's have a gander at the 'techno' CD of Die Welt Ist Klang.

First up is Thomas P. Heckmann. You might know him from such labels as Mille Plateaux, Wavescape, and the charming Acid Fuckers Unite. If you’re worth your techno salt at all though, you know him as Drax. For his offering to Namlook’s legacy, he gives us Ode To A Friend, sounding not a touch out of a 1974 krautrock album. Wait, what? Oh, right, talented producer makes music across tons of genres. That’s a running theme with a lot of these Namlook and Fax +49-69/450464 associates, isn’t it? Speaking of, second tune here is from Biosphere, though it’s one of his early demos sent to Mr. Kaulmann way back when, before they hooked up for Fires Of Ork. Holy cow, you guys, it’s Microgravity-era Biosphere! Robot voices! Bleepy techno! Rave-house groove! Long time fans have waited an age to hear something like this from Geir Jensenn again.

Following that, it’s Pascal F.E.O.S., most famous for being one-half of Resistance D., but having made plenty of music on his own too. His track is called Sax On Dub, and it’s... Balearic chill-out? Huh, are we getting any techno on this disc? Not if Oliver Lieb can help it, treating us to a tune that might have once been an Into Deep outtake. Man, the final run of tunes from CD2 was more techno than this. Where’s, like, Anthony Rother when you need him – he made music for Fax+, right? Right, so here’s Anthony Rother’s See Beyond, though more sinister EBM than robotic electro as you’d expect of the guy. It’s XJacks’ Acidbob that finally gives us a proper techno cut, all old-school acid weirdness with a little 808 cowbell for good measure.

A couple more names I recognize from recent digging is Gabriel Le Mar (a proggy breaks tune, plus an acid techno workout with Dr. Motte) and Mick Chillage (getting way-back FSOL vibes on this one). Both their tracks are the best on CD3, though a special mention must be made to Glitch’s Kick The Habit, a vintage hard trance track that’s got everything but a kick. Oh, you tease, we almost did get that which I thought not possible. Or maybe we still will later in the box set. Five more to go. Man, I’m earning this experience.

ACE TRACKS: April 2015

Oh hey, look at that, “R” is all wrapped up now. Yep, in a bizarre turn of events, the alphabetical back-half of the letter had barely a week’s worth of albums for review, unlike the near 1.5 months of the front half. I honestly have no idea how this came to be. Maybe if I had more CDs in my collection from rock bands, where they sing about rocking and rolling in titular singles, but nay, most things are rave with this techno boy. Anyhow, I felt it best to finish the letter off before posting the playlist for ACE TRACKS: April 2015.


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
µ-Ziq - Royal Astronomy
Seraphim Rytm - Aeterna
Various - Rising High Trance Injection

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: Most of the Aphex Twin stuff, but only if you’re not used to his zaniness.

Whoa, that’s my second straight Playlist with nary a rock or hip-hop cut found. The August 2013 one is understandable, what with such a short collection of albums to cull from – I had plenty more to draw from for April 2015. On the other hand, a sizeable chunk was devoted to Altar Records compilations, not to mention a plethora of other alphabetical backlog.

Speaking of alphabetical, I tried something different for this Playlist, arranging tracks in alphabetical order. With so much psy dub, psy chill, and dark ambient (hi, Sabled Sun!), I figured doing so would randomize the sequence a little, engaging the listener with the unexpected rather than steady familiarity and flow. Will AstroPilot align with Amon Tobin? Might Moss Garden meld with Model 500? Could Cosmic Replicant conflict with Chronos? Find out within, plus Faithless too!

µ-Ziq - Royal Astronomy

Virgin: 1999

When µ-Ziq signed with Virgin, part of his deal included the creation of Planet Mu as an offshoot. Mr. Paradinas' label has gone on to some critical fame in the years since, but at the time Virgin was struggling in its promotion of IDM, unable to properly capitalize on the buzz Aphex Twin's videos had generated; or so the story goes. Not sure if it was that awful, what with plenty of magazine ad spots for Lunatic Harness and Royal Astronomy. Still, it's understandable that Virgin and Paradinas would decide parting ways was best for both, frenetic braindance chamber music most definitely not the sort of music easily marketed alongside The Chemical Brothers and Fatboy Slim. Thus, in 1998, the µ-Ziq brand found a permanent, exclusive home on Planet Mu, where Paradinas' albums have been released ever since.

Wait a second, Royal Astronomy came out in 1999, after Planet Mu went proper independent, yet was still released by Virgin. And, unlike Lunatic Harness, this album didn't get a Planet Mu edition, instead being published by Virgin sub-label Hut Recordings, who also released albums from acts like Smashing Pumpkins, Placebo, The Verve, and Gomez (wait, who?). What gives the dealy-o?

Since I'm not a journalist and unwilling to do much research beyond cursory digging, here’s some speculation instead: Paradinas had an album commitment to Virgin, releasing a set number of LPs within such-and-such time span. He got out of that contract when he gained the independent rights to Planet Mu, but had to still provide Virgin with at least one more album's worth of material as part of the bargain. Hence, Royal Astronomy, an album with Virgin's marketing clout behind it, and music with almost no interest on Paradinas' part. Am I right? Do I get the no-prize? Just this CD? Awww.

I can't outright call Royal Astronomy bad, as µ-Ziq has enough talent that even slapdash moments have something interesting going on. There's even a kernel of an album concept lurking in here, where Paradinas indulges is classical leaning compositions as though they were intended for Romantic Era performances (Scaling, Gruber’s Mandolin, Scrape) but sometimes given a thumping, funky twist for the modern era (The Hwicci Song, The Fear, Slice, World Of Leather). It'd be a fun exploration if he'd gone the album's length with it, but unfortunately is hardly touched upon after a promising first few tunes.

The rest either goes the acid IDM fun-funk route (Autumn Acid, Carpet Muncher), quirky pleasantness (56, Goodbye, Goodbye), and standard d’n’b rinse-outs (The Motorbike Track, Bust Your Arm). I’m not getting any rhyme or reason why these tracks are on this album or in the order they’re presented in – here’s some music µ-Ziq had lying around, toss it on the CD, and here’s your final Virgin LP. Done and dusted.

Royal Astronomy’s just too erratic a listen to recommend it as a whole. Sometimes that works in IDM’s favour but not on this outing.