Spicelab - Quicksand EP

Harthouse/Solieb Digital: 1992/2013

I've held off buying Oliver Lieb Bandcamp remasters for far too long. Always that niggling hope though, that maybe, just maybe, he'd release a hard copy version of his early singles across various aliases, gathering them into a compilation, as done with his L.S.G. works. And I suppose there's still a chance it will happen, but really, if it hasn't happened by now, chances are it never will ...and watch me get proven wrong by this summer.

Anyhow, the early Spicelab singles remained highest on my 'Want' list, so naturally they were the first I sprung for. The Quicksand EP in particular was a unique item in the Spicelab canon, as the titular track is among the first tunes Mr. Lieb released on the downbeat. Perhaps not as notable overall since he'd release the ambient-leaning Constellation on Recycle Or Die the following year, but for a producer who was mostly making blistering, raw acid and techno, Quicksand is a significant step in Oliver's musical evolution.

I already touched on the track as it appeared on the Harthouse Dark Hearts, Vol. 1 compilation, but I may as well re-iterate. Maintaining that experimental sci-fi bent Spicelab often enjoyed, this one opens with lengthy, spaced-out synths gliding and sliding along sine waves, all the while someone hurriedly rushes up a flight of hallway stairs. Man, I can feel my calves getting a work-out just listening to this!

Seriously though, Quicksand has most of the hallmarks of a typical trance tune of the era, just played in a far more chill way, the groove a steady, soft rhythm while all sorts of electronic sounds bubble about. It's an extremely slow build getting to a point where everything's in play, and even then, it doesn't make a big fuss about it, simply cruising along for the track's duration. For those used to the harder side of Spicelab – heck, Harthouse in general – this had to be quite the ear-opener. Small wonder it was tapped for label retrospective consideration.

On the flip, however, is where you'll find the bangers. Amorph is probably the most famous of the lot, an early example of Oliver steering German trance music into the acid techno of the day. It starts out typically of the genre in '92: noisy noises, simple rave riffs, and speedy 150 BPM beats. At the two-minute mark though, those distinct Lieb space synths emerge, flying along with simple pitch bends and squiggly electronics, sending the track into outer orbit. There were examples of these sounds in the debut Spicelab EP, but never used to this effect. The cheeky 'gabber' beats towards the end are just silly fun.

The third track on this EP is called 56387. It's got an annoying hook that sounds like a cyborg strangling a synthesizer. It's mostly just boshy acid techno with some ol' school German trance choir pads. It's not as interesting as the rest of this EP. It was just the style at the time.

Spicelab - Spy Vs. Spice

Spy Vs. Spice: 1996

And that's all the Spicelab albums gotten. Yes, as strange as it may seem, Oliver Lieb only ever released three LPs under this alias. You'd think there'd be more, what with it being his break-out project and all, one that helped define German trance in its infancy. It was something of a contentious one though, seldom getting much shine abroad, much less promotional push from Harthouse. Spicelab tracks were just a little too weird, a little too sci-fi pulpy, a little too unwieldy for DJ rinse-outs, especially so those lengthy album cuts. When L.S.G. became his most popular (and likely lucrative) project, it pretty much took all of Lieb's attention. So long, Spicelab, then.

As for why it's taken me so long to finally get Spy Vs. Spice, there's a couple reasons. One, it's not a very common CD. Ol' Oliver had to basically self-release the album, setting up his own short-lived Spy vs. Spice print to do so. Two, and it hurts to say this, but I kinda' already did hear much of this album many moons ago, and I wasn't especially keen on it. Oh, of course Spicelab was among my initial AudioGalaxy inquiries, don't act surprised. With so many out-of-context tracks failing to grab me, I let it slip to the recesses of my memory membranes. Maybe I'd give it another chance down the road if I ever found it on the cheap.

So I found a copy on the cheap, and perhaps with age and experience, I'd finally dig on what Lieb was doing with Spy Vs. Spice. Opener Spice Like Us bodes well, doing that vintage Spicelab thing of moody, atmospheric lead-in, settling us into the future-shock realm this alias doth often dwell. The rhythm's more on a tech-house tip (when such a thing was still being hashed out on Plastic City), just in a Spicelab-ey sort of way. Spice Peak and Glue Gun though, I dunno'. They sound like they could be great, leftfield electro and techno, but all the abrasive sounds on display just refuse to coalesce into something enjoyable.

Fortunately, the good ship Spicelab rights itself with the titular cut, a no-nonsense slice of pummelling techno where even the weird sounds make sense. Following that is Feathers, the closest thing to an obligatory progressive trance single this album has to offer. Even here though, the hook stubbornly refuses to play nice, playing out in quite the unconventional fashion. Or maybe I've just been spoiled by the Humate and TLBj remixes.

Bad Rabbit gets back to the earlier weirdness, but at least feels like it has some momentum behind it, while the final run of tracks close out with more traditional Spicelab trance vibes. Despite the difficult start, Spy Vs. Spice finishes strong enough to warrant a full listen. I can't really say it's a lost classic in the Oliver Lieb canon though, especially with L.S.G.'s Volume 2 being released that same year. Even the Spicelab 'influenced' cuts on that album are better.

L.S.G. - The Black Album (2021 Update)

Superstition: 1998

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)

Not much I can really add to that old review. Heck, I probably exhausted every possible simile in describing what The Black Album sounds like. Won't deny, I literally wanted to start this Update with a few more fun ones, but nothing came to mind. Nada. Zilch. How does one top “cyborg jembe drummers” or “Unicron having a tummy ache”? Or this fun little nugget: “This isn’t the kind of stuff you’d hear from guys like Marco V or Sander van Doorn; Lieb’s material eats their tracks as a midnight snack and takes a second helping without asking.” Oh yeah, that was around the time I was getting annoyed at folks calling those chaps 'true tech-trance warriors', or some bollocks. Some of their stuff was good, sure, but compared to what Lieb was doing half a decade prior? C'mon, man.

I remain flabbergasted that not only did Lieb take L.S.G. down such a primal techno road, but that it also holds up strong-style over two decades on. It's been quite a few years since I last listened to this album, so some of it had slipped from my memory. Hoo boy, once it got going though, with the relentless onslaught of aggressive rhythms and minimalist industrial sounds, all the feral feelings came rushing back. It's like, it unleashes the reptile part of my brain, long deep in slumber, stirred awake by the sounds of nuclear reactors going off.

Steadily it emerges from the depth of the spinal chord, making it onto the dry lands of the mammalian limbic portions of my cranium, crushing such things like emotions and values under talons and foot. Nothing stops it, only growing stronger and more determined in its path of destruction as The Black Album carries on, finally confronting the neocortex, the last line of logic and rational defence. The primate portion of the brain, if you will, an 800-pound gorilla of humanity taking on the unstoppable path of reptilian devastation. Who wins in this ultimate showdown of the psyche? I dunno. I think, by the end of The Black Album, everything's been abducted by aliens or something.

I still don't know what prompted ol' Oliver to go so hard into techno's domain. There was something of a movement burbling in the periphery of European clubland of techno bangers dominating the 4am timeslots, but it'd be a few years before the likes of Adam Beyer and Chris Liebing would truly dominate. And even then, they initially came at things from the Detroit angle, but I do find it interesting that Chris and Oliver both hailed from Frankfurt. Maybe there's just something in the water there, that makes their producers need to get their pure techno groove on, no matter what your main lane of music making may be.

So yeah, if you have never checked out The Black Album for whatever reason, I'm giving you a reason now. You want that epic confrontation in your brain. You need it!

L.S.G. - The Best Of L.S.G. (The Singles Reworked)

Superstition: 2004

I can't recall if folks thought it at the time, but it did seem the L.S.G. era of Oliver Lieb's career was over. You usually don't do a 'Best Of' collection if you figure there's still more in the tank for a project. By the year 2004, however, the signs were aplenty that times were a'changein'. Chief among them, L.S.G. was soon to be homeless, the label Superstition unable to adapt with the ever-shifting trends in clubland. They tried getting in on that digital download thing with a run of L.S.G. singles re-issues, but it wasn't enough. Thus a finished album following The Hive went unreleased, and Lieb moved onto other things. Say, that minimal techno thing is catching on, how about that? Ah well, at least Superstition lived long enough to let Lieb do a 'remix album' of all the tunes that helped make the label one of trance's taste-makers of the '90s.

And honestly, I don't think an L.S.G. 'best of' could have worked as anything other than a 'reworking' of all his singles. The easy, lazy thing to do would be to just slap them all on a disc, maybe force a continuous mix out of it, and call it a day, but ol' Oliver had taken the project through many different paths over the decade of its existence. How could one's muse be satisfied with how the original works sounded after gaining so much experience in the studio since? I'm sure ideas and re-imaginings had been sloshing in his brain for a while (especially during the Into Deep sessions, if the final result is any indication), forming sonic links and chains among his various tracks. True, there's always been signature markers that let you know you're dealing with a Lieb production (the gated synths, the impeccable drum programming, those claps), but why not sum it all up in one uber-album retrospective?

Folly for me, I didn't 'get it' when I first threw on The Singles Reworked. Maybe I was more enamoured by the second disc holding all those non-album L.S.G. tunes, in my clutches for the first time and all (Hearts! Transmutation! Blueprint! Fragile (Gravity Fools The Magician Remix By Vapourspace)...?). Or maybe I was just so unfamiliar with all the reworked tunes that I couldn't appreciate the changes. Aside from My Time Is Yours, The Train Of Thought and Netherworld, none had appeared on an L.S.G. album. For a while, I thought it all cool and neat sounding, but cribbing just a bit too much from Into Deep's aesthetic to stand out as its own unique thing. As I said, folly for me.

But yes, time and repeated plays has provided enough perspective such that I hear The Singles Reworked as more than just a 'best of' remix record. It truly is an album unto itself, just with familiar melodies in a different context from their original conception. Think of it like an 'unplugged' session, except still very much plugged in.

L.S.G. - Double Vision

Bonzai Progressive: 2017

Crazy to think it took fifteen years for Oliver Lieb to release a full-length album, and a double-LP at that. Yes, including The Unreleased Album, now officially released on his Solieb Digital print, but first made way back in 2002. Also, there was Inside Voices under his own name with Psychonavigation Records, but since that label hideously collapsed, the album's status is currently in limbo. Double Vision though, there is no doubt. Two CDs full of proper new tunes, released on a print in no danger of disappearing, and under an old reliable alias fans have been hoping a return to for ages. Take all my money, Mr. Lieb!

Still, it requests the question, where does L.S.G. fit in modern clime's? The heart-pumping trance that the moniker built its rep' on hasn't been in vogue for an age, and ol' Oliver hasn't shown any signs of returning to that style. He's well moved on from the minimal techno of Solieb – it was only fashionable for a short while anyway – but his few recent, scattered singles seem uncertain where his lane now is. Melodic techno? Spacey tech-house? Whatever thing Norman Feller's managed to sustain a career on? And is there even a need to keep making club singles anyway? L.S.G. had been trending towards the chill-out camps ever since Into Deep, but would there even be interest in another ambient outing after the lukewarm response to Inside Voices? So many options, so many ideas – ah, just double-album the return, filling all the creative needs!

And as CD1 opens with the grand space ambience of Seven Worlds, melting into a slow-burner with groovy rhythms, sci-fi sounds, and epic synth builds of Escape The Galaxy, all I can think is, “Damn, have I missed L.S.G.!” Oliver's always had a unique touch with rhythm and melody, instantly recognizable and never dull (if a little predictable though, one must admit), and long time fans should feel right at home here, tracks like Vapor and Passion reflecting glories past – even the rhythms take what Lieb learned from his Solieb days, putting it to far greater use. And if you do need some evolution along with his vintage sounds, how about a little psychedelic big-beat bedlam in Tipsy Flower and Perfect Blue? That ought to trigger your Future Sound Of London receptors. Also, Suborbital reminds me of an old, obscure Steve Porter prog cut (Innerpulse), which I have to assume is just a coincidence.

Even though it's the obligatory 'chill' disc, CD1 contains some serious body movin' beats. That can only mean CD2 is gonna' tear things out, right? Eh, it's definitely more upbeat, though still hovering a dozen BPMs lower than Lieb's classic stuff. I also don't find this disc quite as interesting as the first, contemporary 'peak time' tech-trance with vintage Lieb flourishes. It has its moments, but after awhile, I start itching for a little Black Album business. Now that's some mainroom techno that'll scare the kids away!

L.S.G. - Volume Two (2017 Update)

Superstition: 1996

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)


I may have overstated Netherworld's importance. I'm sure there were other records around the time that did a better job defining the progressive trance template than this one. Do any of them kick as much ass as Oliver Lieb's mini-opus though? I think not. What were some of its competitors in the year 1996? X-Cabs' Neuro? De Niro's Mind Of Man? Transa's Prophase? Bangers for sure, but comparatively simple and straight-forward when stacked against all the stuff happening in Netherworld. Who else had the balls to include an electro bridge in the middle of an anthem? Yeah, it's a feature that goes overlooked since most remixers jettison it in their rubs, no matter what direction they take it - it's all about the vocal sample and those gated pads, man. What I wouldn't give to hear a late '90s electro hero take this tune down their gnarly paths though. Anthony Rother, maybe? Dopplereffekt? Boris Divider? Boris...? Boris...?

Speaking of unexpected remixers... Holy cow, did you know Banco de Gaia did a remix for Volume Two? I sure as Hell didn't! Not in all the years I've followed both Toby Marks and Oliver Lieb (two decades strong) did I hear of this. Yeah, I knew Lieb offered a rub on the Kincajou single, but I had no clue the remix favor was returned. Yet there it is, included on a supplemental record full of remixes and Vinyl Cuts care of L.S.G.'s original home of Superstition. Ah, hm, I think I see the problem there. Netherworld was the only real EP to emerge from Volume 2, and that was handled by Hooj Choons - I'd almost argue Netherworld was specifically custom-made for that print, so out of sync it was with the rest of Lieb's L.S.G. works around the time. Any other remixes of Volume Two tunes would undoubtedly get way overshadowed in this marketing scenario, so Jules Verne must thank his lucky stars Hooj picked up his rub as well. Hey, more Netherworlds, amirite?

As for Banco though, he took on the industrial-breaks of Get Out for his rub, and it's... okay, I guess. Right, so there's another reason I never heard of this before: no one really gave a toss about it. Lieb's go with Kincajou was already a stretch, and while ol' Toby brings some tribalistic drumplay in his take with techno, it's no surprise he seldom ever tried his hand at it (think Gnomes Mix of Kuos).

Another surprising remixer in that original vinyl collection is Terry Lee Brown, Jr.; aka: Norman Feller; aka: another classic German trance producer that shared some songcraft attributes with Lieb. Obviously they ventured on drastically different paths from this point, but it's cool seeing the two on the same record nonetheless. Mr. Feller even does something different with his rub, a typical Terry tech-house cut he was producing at the time, but with snippets of various tracks from Volume 2 thrown in. He called it Terry's Patchwork Of V. 2. Cute.

Various - The Secret Life Of Trance: Episode 2

Imperial Dancefloor: 2000

Awww, yeah. Now we're talkin'. A compilation of Rising High trance, one of the O.G. labels of that scene, with a bonus DJ mix CD from the Godfather of trance, Oliver Lieb. I spy Cygnus X's Superstrings in that mix - not the Rank 1 remix or Corsten remix (or whatever), but the original, old-school version. You bet the boys behind this revitalized Secret Life Of Trance series were about to lay some serious knowledge on all them 'crackers of the year 2000. Nothing could possibly go wrong with this.

The first track on here is Lost 22 from Starecase. Hey, I've seen that name on a few DJ mixes before (Bill Hamel, Timo Maas, and some dude by the name of Tijs). I'm also fairly certain I've heard the Max Graham Remix of Lost 22, but the original version is what we get here. It’s a charming little prog-trance number, the sort you’d hear in plenty of set openers of the time. It also sounds very much of 2000, which I wasn’t expecting from a Rising High compilation. Guess Casper Pound had to placate the masses’ expectations for a trance CD regardless, but at least Lost 22’s classy enough.

Following that is nu-skool breaks from XPD’s Titty Twister. Wait, what the Hell? What on earth is a breakbeat track doing on a trance CD? These aren’t even ‘trancey breaks’ like Hybrid or something, but full-blown nu-skool, including those buzzy basslines everyone enjoyed mocking. This is the sort of stuff Adam Freeland was playing, and has no place on a trance collection, even if Mr. Pound is one of the producers. Would the breaks scene accept an ATB cut in a Krafty Kuts mix? Hell no!

Following that is... oh God. Moonrunners’ Fathom is a such a lame pinch of the Balearic trance fad, including a synth rhythm that sounds like a watered-down version of Tekara’s Breathe In You. The whole track’s insipid bilge, with an overlong breakdown playing out Zamfir’s The Lonely Shepherd on Spanish guitar – dudes, you don’t diss the Zamf’s panflutes like that! The rest of CD1 amounts to little else of note. Chris Cowey (as F2) turns in an agreeable bit of techno on Dominca, Silvio Ecomo’s Standinghas a solid tribal pulse, and Lieb goes deep with Light It Up as Phools Inc. Beyond that, generally a balls disc, sadly.

With such weak music to work with, ol’ Oliver would have to transcend even Sasha’s skills on the decks to salvage the CD2 mix. He does what he can, but even at best Mr. L.S.G. has only been a functional jock. He spices things up with a few of his own productions, almost all under obscure one-off aliases like Mindspace and Multiplicity. The mix even turns enjoyable once he’s finished playing out the obligatory CD1 material, finishing out with an old-school vibe I thought Rising High would deliver. Unfortunately, it’s not enough for another play of Secret Life Of Trance: Episode 2 anytime soon.

L.S.G. - Rendezvous In Outer Space (2015 Update)

Superstition: 1995

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

A do-over for the L.S.G. debut album? Eh, I don't think that's necessary. Technically, that review I wrote for TranceCritic a decade ago (!!) was my second go at Rendezvous In Outer Space, the first a blurb on Lord Discogs. Yeah, I was carrying a torch for the CD back in the day, hoping to get all the young trance fans hype to some proper, authentic, genuine, indisputable, legitimate, um, authoritative, uh... twenty-four carat...? Are you messing with me, Online Thesaurus?

Point being, I felt like a man on a mission in ye’ olde year of 2004, a strident, determined soul set upon the harsh environment of internet web forums filled with ‘noobs’. They were gonna’ learn some history, gosh darned it, understand that trance did not, in fact, begin with Tiësto’s In Search Of Sunrise or Armin’s A State Of Trance. Oliver Lieb is the don of this scene, sons and daughters, the Godfather, the King Kahuna, the Khan, the Czar, the Duke and Duchess, the potentate, the oligarch, the overlord, the, um, rex, uh... the ‘crowned head’? Dammit, Online Thesaurus, you suck sometimes, you really do.

Obviously, I was a fool in turning the L.S.G. discography into weapons for a trance jihad, even subtly hijacking a young, hopeful trance website for my own nefarious plans. I shouldn’t be forcing my interests and opinions down the ears, eyes, and throats of fresh fans of a genre because I feel their current heroes are pale imitations of the real deal. See, there I go again - believing my taste superior than theirs because I have better albums in my possession (you know it’s true!). I cannot deny it though: Rendezvous In Outer Space should be mandatory listening for anyone who fancies themselves a fan of the genre. Lieb helped lay down so much of the groundwork future producers would emulate, why deny the roots of a form of music one purports to love? I mean, any metal fan worth his rock-salt dutifully digests the works of Black Sabbath – L.S.G. deserves the same respect, yo’.

Okay, enough of that torch. For one thing, there’s nothing else to prove with this argument. Those who’ve stuck with trance in the ten years since eventually came around to ol’ Oliver’s music regardless. It’s kinda’ hard not to look to the past when the present kept turning to such crap, right? More than that though, I no longer see music as tools for crusades, quite content in enjoying it for my own reasons and sharing my thoughts with those who are willing to hear or read. Oh yeah, I’m totally turning into that old guy sitting on the park bench with Sennheiser headphones feeding the raving raccoons. What makes Rendezvous In Outer Space so peerless, they ask, and I tell them, I tell them I says, “Hear how Lieb uses percussion for maximum effect with minimal fuss? By g’ar, that’s some mighty fine trance beat craftsmanship there, the likes you don’t see any more, b’gosh.”

Solieb - On The Button / We Are Moving

Maschine: 2007

Geez, another Solieb single? How many of these did I get? How many were even released? (ten) I was curious to hear a few of these minimal techno Lieb musics, sure, but not all of them. It's minimal, for God's sake – how interesting could all of it be? Have a cursory glance, then back to forlorn hopes for another L.S.G. album. I've no idea what else to say about the Solieb project that wasn't already covered with Integrale and Impersonator. Heck, I've even already done the fictitious backstory angle! I've nothing left.

Let’s get this review over with, then. On The Button was released towards the latter end of the Solieb run, and I have to wonder if Mr. Lieb was running out of ideas where he could take minimal techno. Despite a start that hints at a sludgy bit of rhythmic monotony, the track gets rather busy with its various sounds: some machinery grinding, dub techno effects, and even proper melody at points that’s mildly catchy. That’s not supposed to happen in serious minimal music. The track doesn’t go anywhere much, and spends far too much time on the DJ-friendly bookends, but the middle sections were interesting for short time they were allowed. We Are Moving on the flip isn’t even minimal, despite the requisite over-dubbed percussion and plonky parts. There’s a funky groove, smart acid blips, and an ominous, dominant synth drone that sounds like it belongs in Spicelab down moments rather than supposed minimal techno. Since We Are Moving is the least minimal track I’ve heard from Lieb’s minimal moniker, it just might be one of the best Solieb tracks around.

Lieb would release one more single as Solieb, Halo / The Drums, coming out in spring of 2007. Just before minimal became insufferably commercial and tiresome in clubs everywhere, come to think of it. Hm, ol' Oliver rode that minimal wave for just the right amount of time, getting on when it started its intriguing buzz (2005), and bailing before every two-bit producer jumped on the bandwagon. Or maybe it's just a coincidence he put Solieb to pasture before the scene stupidity started settling in. I prefer believing the former, because I’m a hopeless fanboy that way.

That’s all I got. For the love of Lord Discogs, I hope there aren’t any more Solieb singles lurking in my music collection. There’s a couple more individual tracks floating about, but surely not full two-track EPs. I mean, look at this, I’m rambling to make self-imposed word-count quota. It’s not that the Solieb stuff was boring or whatever, it’s just there’s little more to discuss regarding the project. Dear me, I hope Lieb doesn’t release a CD collection of the stuff now, because I know I’ll end up buying it, then I’ll have to review it, and I’ve exhausted almost every talking point by now. Maybe not actual detailing of individual tracks, but geez, you know how painful it is reviewing minimal? Not fun, not fun at all.

Oliver Lieb - Inside Voices

Psychonavigation Records: 2014

Remarkably, astoundingly, and even bizarrely, this is the first full-length album Oliver Lieb has ever released under his own name. In a music career that’s spanned twenty-five years, the closest he ever got was the relatively unknown 1993 “O. Lieb” LP Constellation on Recycle Or Die – it was re-released under his full name, but digital-only, making it a retroactive example. Thus, Inside Voices remains the the first proper album gracing Lieb’s full name. Psychonavigation Records must have a lot of clout to have convinced him to do so.

This is also Lieb’s first proper album of new material since The Hive as L.S.G. (no, The Unreleased Album doesn’t count – it’s ‘unreleased’), though he’s put out plenty of singles under various aliases in the decade-plus since. As such, long-time fans (*cough*) were abuzz at what ol’ Oliver would cook up for this curious ambient label from Dublin.

Well, ambient obviously. The initial comparison will fall upon Into Deep, but Inside Voices is far more subdued and minimalist than that L.S.G. album. For one thing, beats are practically non-existent here, occasional bass pulses and shuffly clicks from deep space about all we hear on that end. What rhythmic lines that do emerge are carried by backing melodic synths – not exactly arps, but tracks like Surface Tension, Dreamfields and Self-Aware Universe feature slight hooks with building momentum behind them. Mostly though, we’re dealing with lengthy sweeping pads, spacious sounds drenched with echoes and reverb, and minor-key chord progressions when melody does take centre-stage.

For anyone well-versed in Lieb’s discography, Inside Voices will sound overly familiar. Though he isn’t outright recycling prior music, there is a sense he’s playing things safe here, using many trusty synths and melodic constructs heard before. No doubt, it’s a different approach to his tropes, focusing on the sonic space between his recognizable techniques, yet I can’t help feel some disappointment in not hearing much in the way of new sounds. It’s a fresh album, with a fresh start (new ‘alias’!), on a fresh label (that’s been around for over a decade), so why not offer us fresh synths or fresh soundscapes? I mean, the Solieb stuff may have been trendy as all Hell, but at least it was different, something new in Lieb’s discography.

Of course, this is just my quibble, extra expectation placed upon a producer that doesn’t have anything left to prove. Even if Inside Voices isn’t treading waters far from shores since wandered, ol’ Oliver’s sound remains uniquely his – you won’t find an ambient album full of spacey synths and trancey chord progressions quite like this one, since no one’s come close to Lieb’s style of song craft. For any long-time fan of the chap from Frankfurt, that’s more than enough reason to pick up Inside Voices, especially with new LPs from Lieb growing ever more few and far between. Hey, maybe this’ll spark his creativity some more, productions and releases soon outpacing his blistering early ‘90s heyday. Hail Psychonavigation Records if so!

Spicelab - Lost In Spice

Planet Earth Recordings: 1993/1994

Of all Oliver Lieb’s albums, I have to say his debut Spicelab LP, Lost In Spice, must be his oddest. Not for its raw production or lack of typical Lieb trance, but for how boshing basic some of the rhythms are. No matter what genre he’s explored, Lieb’s craftsmanship with drums kits and basslines always kept him a step above his peers. Here though, you get near-gabber beats in Cold Chillin’, coming at you a blistering 160bpm. It’s more of a hard acid techno track, the sort of sound you might have heard Spiral Tribe kicking out around the same time. Yet hearing it must be like what Tiësto fans feel when hearing Da Joker.

Even more baffling is making it nearly seventeen minutes long. What’s he trying to do, create the progressive rock version of hard acid techno? I suppose Cold Chillin’ has enough neat sounds going for it to just make it worth the duration – sci-fi zaps, snarling TB-303 basslines, peppy synth hooks, percussion and cymbals that crescendo as industrial blocks clank in the background. It just seems overkill for a track of this nature. All well, ol’ Oliver always claimed his Spicelab material was intended for more experimental stuff, and if he wanted to open this album with ‘experimental hard acid bosh’, so be it.

The other tracks on here are closer in tune to the early Spicelab sound, with many distinctive traits that defined many Lieb productions (spacey synth pads, those claps…). Second cut Spicelab is a slow builder, working an eerie mood befitting of such a dark cover while even more bleeps n’ bloops come and go. There are more instances of hooks found, though no real melody until a rapturous breakdown some two-thirds through, where the rhythm essentially leaves for the rest of the track for more sci-fi soundscapes. It’s like you’ve been cruising through underground industrial tunnels, only to surface into a b-movie or ‘80s anime alien world. Have I mentioned the sounds Lieb uses are dated in a quirky retro way?

The B-side of this CD is similar, in that The Last Supernova is another 160bpm blistering cut with weird sound effects, though with more reliance on tinnier percussion and those sweeping synths also found in Spicelab classics like Amorph and Spice Is A Fulltime Occupation. The titular cut at the end is more like the eponymous cut, in that there’s more build, proper hooks and melody, plus distinct sections that evolve from what came before (almost an extended version of Quicksand, really). Also included with the American version is The Spirit Of Fear, a darker take on the same formula.

Lost In Space is undeniably rough around the edges, especially compared to Lieb’s future Spicelab and L.S.G. songwriting. For an early ‘90s techno LP though, it’s damn ambitious, and definitely a positive sign that ol’ Oliver would have himself a remarkable career in the following two decades. Not bad for a German making New Beat but two years prior.

Banco de Gaia - Kincajou

Planet Dog: 1995

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

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

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

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

L.S.G. - Into Deep (Original TC Review)

Superstition: 1999

(2013 Update:
Woot! And finally, I now have a review of every single L.S.G. album on this blog. Except Best Of. And Unreleased. Hm, and that Hooj Choons Collected Works too. Okay, every official LP of L.S.G., and no, Unreleased is still sort-of un-official, at least to me. Give us a proper hard-copy version, Mr. Lieb, and then we'll talk.

I'm probably a little gushy in this review, but dammit, Into Deep just doesn't get the love it deserves. What does it take, huh?)

IN BRIEF: His best.

And then Oliver Lieb peaked.

Oh, I’m sure many out there could point to several different singles across several different aliases that are better than anything on here but in terms of full-length albums, the veteran trance producer has never been better than he was on Into Deep. It seemed, having purged any and all instinctive id with The Black Album, Lieb felt free to explore his meditative ego in this follow-up - it’s the logical musical yin to the previous yang. Or he’d been working on this material alongside the Black Series but never found a proper time and place to release it until after the fact. Who’s to say at this late stage?

Point of the matter is despite the release of Into Deep making artistic sense, it was nonetheless unexpected to hear the L.S.G. moniker taken down this road (though perhaps not nearly as shocking as The Black Album was). This is, after all, the alias of such classic trance cuts like Netherworld, Hearts, and Hidden Sun Of Venus (the trance version). Didn’t Lieb already have an alias for his downtempo stuff? (kinda, but who remembers ‘O.Lieb’?)

The thing that truly was astounding about Into Deep was in how, upon hearing it, folks’ perspective of Lieb changed. He’d garnered plenty of praise for years, yet could never quite shake the stigma of being regarded as “that really good trance producer”. Though many figured he was capable of it, no one really thought he’d actually go and make an album that could be held in the same regard as any of the best efforts from such ‘90s luminaries as The Future Sound Of London, The Orb, or Massive Attack. Yet he did.

For starters, this is one of the few instances you’ll find original lyrics of any sort on an Oliver Lieb album, here provided by one Cybéle de Silveria. Whether it’s to digitally-treated spoken dialog - Spanish for No Causalidad and El Tiburon, and English for Give Me Your Hand - or verses (I’m Not Existing), it adds a fresh angle to the L.S.G. moniker, bringing a proper human element to a project that was already well known for strong emotional music.

And it almost goes without saying, but the emotional punch of this album is of the highest quality. You have tender synthy soundscapes in Jillanity, Into Deep, and Give Me Your Hand; deeply meditative atmospherics in Concatenation, Tiburon Citriño, Quick Star, and I’m Not Existing; and riveting climaxes with El Tiburon, Phorus, and Westside. We’ve heard Lieb strike gold in this field several times, yet seldom with the same level of poignancy as he does here. The whole album ebbs and flows with these moving passages as only the greatest chill releases have. Remarkably, Lieb manages to blend the best of both electronic and organic textures together so they wonderfully complement each other, never compete. In almost all cases, producers have a difficult time accomplishing this, often letting either or overtake in prominence. The closest I’ve heard in recent years that hits this delicate balance comes from the Ultimae camps, but even they have a tendency to let the organic nature of their music take over. Into Deep amazingly stands tall and alone in how it sounds.

All this, and I still haven’t even gotten started on the rhythms. My God, the rhythms! Lieb’s always been excellent in this department but, again, he’d generally been constrained to the techno-trance side of things with tantalizing teases into other beats – breaks in Get Out from Volume Two, for instance, or something experimental like Fontana on Rendezvous In Outer Space and A Day On Our Planet as Spicelab. In producing a purposefully downtempo album, Lieb got to indulge himself with fresh patterns, time signatures, and effects, once again with remarkably stunning results. From steady heartbeat throbs that either pulse (Quick Star) or rumble (Phorus) to layered builds (El Tiburon and the dubbier Bengal Rose), Lieb gives us plenty of wonderful patterns that are just as effective in tapping into the primal recesses of your brain as anything else he’s done.

The two real highlights, though, have to be I’m Not Existing and Westside. The former, having been segued beautifully from the spacey tension-builder that is Quick Star, brings us some of Lieb’s grittiest beats ever, executed with trip-hop proficiency and supported by a disconcerting melody that would have Tricky approvingly bobbing his head along. Meanwhile, Westside, in being the album closer, opts for the pure positive vibe of communal chant, inviting you to clap in unison as the song plays out.

Into Deep is one of those rare albums that tends to occur only once in an artist’s career, if at all; where a musician will tap into the best of their inspiration and execute it with all the experience of a cagey veteran. Though Oliver Lieb successfully carried on, it was never to heights of what was offered here. Even the Best Of album, where he reworked a bunch of L.S.G. singles in the vein of Into Deep, wasn’t quite as good, as it lacked this album’s sublime narrative flow.

Despite bestowing this much praise on Lieb’s masterwork, there’s probably still a number of skeptics out there; after all, Into Deep is seldom namedropped when discussions of Best Electronic Chill Releases are brought up. I honestly don’t have an answer for this. Perhaps the trance association really was too much for folks unfamiliar with Lieb’s work to get over. Whatever the reason though, it’s their loss. Don’t let it be yours too.

Solieb - Integrale / Inside

Maschine: 2006

Solieb is Oliver Lieb, a not so important person in the world of techno, even though by all rights he should- Eh? You say this is redundant information? Well, sure, I did a Solieb review half a month ago, but did you read it? No, not you, the other you, standing behind you, creeping, stalking, waiting for that perfect moment to whap you with a comedy inflatable mallet that squeaks upon impact. What do you mean that's bizarrely specific? Look, until you turn around, can you claim this person in a clown-ninja outfit isn't there? I realize this is one of those 'fallen tree, can anyone hear?' questions, but if you don't look behind, you can't disprove any more reliably than I can prove. And surely you're here at this blog because you trust me on something; most likely opinions on electronic (plus other) music, but still.

Anyhow, here's the gist of this release for all the cyborg-ninja-clowns that have joined us in the past couple weeks. Solieb is Oliver Lieb, a not so important person in the world techno, even though by all rights he should be. Dude’s been a part of the German club culture since even before the Berlin Wall came down, and was highly instrumental in helping establish the burgeoning Harthouse label. Yet, he didn’t quite mesh with Sven Väth’s outlook. One kept looking to the stars, the other kept having weird parties in Frankfurt basements. And besides, all that spacey sci-fi techno wasn’t going to fly in the ‘techno are serious’ scenes. So off on the Starship L.S.G. ol’ Oliver flew away on for a while, reaching stars he’d seldom seen in that old lab filled with spices (Väth was into some weird things). After returning to Earth, however, his re-entry had some complications, and the Starship L.S.G. crashed and burned after a glorious ten years of service. Somehow, Captain Ollie ended up near his old Harthouse haunt and, reminded of the wacky-doo times his former compatriot Väth would get up in, made a new track called Circus Maximus. But... the old bitter resentment persisted so, so to make sure no one knew who was behind the track, Mr. Lieb crafted a new alias to hide behind, that no one could trace back to him. The new alias was Solieb. Uh... did I mention ol’ Oliver wasn’t the most creative chap in those regards?

Okay, enough made-up silliness (been whapped upside the head by inflatable comedy mallets too much, methinks). How is this particular Solieb single? The A-Side features Integrale, which I recall being my first exposure to Lieb’s new stuff, appearing on Jimmy Van M’s Balance mix. For plinky-plonk minimal, it’s alright, certainly better than a lot of other stuff that was to follow. Inside on the B-Side is more fun, a skippity-skip marching rhythm and machine-lovin’ electro-clop sounds. It might even make sense in one of Väth’s sets from around the time. Say, an olive branch from Oliver Lieb? New alias alert!

Solieb - Impersonator

Maschine: 2006

Screw all those trance pansies, ignoring a great album like The Hive in favour of the latest Dutch monstrosity. Time to take your work back underground, Lieb, away from the limelight and expectation of the mainstream clubbing consciousness. New label, strictly vinyl, no hype. Or, y'know, just hop on the trendy minimalist techno bandwagon, since it's a style of music you've yet to explore much of. Yeah, challenge the muse! Whatever excuse for this change of direction you want to go with.

The Solieb project was more than just a departure in music for ol’ Oliver: it also marked the start of going into business for himself, establishing his own Maschine imprint through which he released music under the new moniker. It was a bold step, in that he no longer could rely on larger labels to do the heavy promotions for him. Judging by how much the Solieb stuff got licensed out compared to L.S.G. or Spicelab, it doesn’t appear he was as concerned with that aspect of label running. Surely the good graces of name recognition alone would propel him to success. Eh...

Look, I can’t blame Lieb for wanting to make serious techno musics after so long of wading through the oceans of trance, but everyone was making serious techno musics in the mid-‘00s (yay hypberbole!). Why not try house music? Or jungle? Maybe even acid jazz! Could that German heritage of his just not help it, eager to show all these new producers what real machine music was capable of, from a native of the nation that invented machine music? Fair enough, but man, this better be some next-level shit if you’re gonna stand out from all the Hawtin wannabes.

Oh, wait, the Solieb stuff was only released on vinyl. I don’t collect vinyl. Dammit, Oliver, you’re not only challenging my dedicated consumption of your craft, but now forcing me down the internet backroads to procure it? Why are you making it so difficult for me to like this new project? How about some sort of ‘collected works’ CD option? If even that wacky Ricky D. James guy did it for his Analord series, surely something similar can be done for the Solieb stuff. Okay, enough grumbling over catering to my selfish needs. It’s time to listen to a bunch of your serious techno musics.

As chance would have it, a pair of tracks I ‘acquired’ made up the Impersonator EP, released when Solieb was gaining enough steam for folks to finally take notice (“Wait, it’s that Netherworld guy?” “Uh, yeah, name’s a dead giveaway.”). The titular A-side is quite a bangin’ bit of techno, with plenty of polyrhythmic percussion, noisy synths, and messy sound effects that has ‘peak hour’ square in its sights. I likes. The B-side, Stay High, plays up the trendier side of techno in ’06, with a shufflin’ tech-house groove and random squelchy noises. It’s... not so interesting. Wow, who’d have thought all that ‘forward-thinking minimal techno’ would sound dated already?

L.S.G. - The Hive

Beat Buzz Records: 2002

In some ways, ending the L.S.G. project on Into Deep would have been perfect. Having successfully pushed the boundaries of his popular trance moniker down roads few thought possible, where else could Oliver Lieb go with it? House music? Jungle? Acid Jazz!? Nope, in a move that was somewhat surprising at the time, the fifth L.S.G. LP went back to its regular progressive trance roots, offering up an album of about as straight-forward Oliver Lieb branded trance as you could get. And then it was almost utterly forgotten shortly after, his mid-‘90s sound coming off old-fashioned and dated in the year 2002.

Okay, trance burnout had definitely settled in by that time, five years of over-exposure sending many folks seeking fresher genres. That The Hive would pass by with little fanfare is understandable. What boggles my mind, however, is how, in the ensuing decade, old schoolers decrying the lack of good trance in the '00s never brought this album up in conversation. Was it really so underwhelming that it slipped everyone's mind? So it lacked the 'firstness' of Rendevous In Outer Space, the killer single of Vol. 2, the ferocity of The Black Album, or the soaring sonics of Into Deep. The Hive was just... there, holding few surprises for the discerning L.S.G. follower to return to.

And I cannot deny I'm guilty of this too. It's been years since I last threw this on, and though I remember enjoying the Hell out of it, The Hive's always been the last L.S.G. album I'm inclined to hear. Even now, despite remembering all those awesome moments throughout, I just know when I reach for a Lieb LP again, other entries in his discography will find their ways to my ears sooner than this one. Such is the price one pays for maintaining such a high standard of quality, I guess.

So what does ‘awesome but forgotten’ L.S.G. sound like? Oh man, there’s some mint stuff on this album. Opener Loose Ends seems appropriately titled, coming off like a left-over tune from a prior LP. Then we’re flying out in space with Down To Earth (or returning from space?), kick ass tribal rhythms with Saviour… Hell, I could go track-by-track on how good this music is, but self-imposed word count forbids. And truthfully I’d be detailing things anyone familiar with Lieb’s work should recognize anyway, as he re-uses plenty of synths, melodies, beats, and effects from years past. If you’re wondering if he brings anything unique to The Hive, Everon features a bassy hook that I’ve never heard attempted in prior L.S.G. material, but that’s about it.

Still, Oliver Lieb going through the motions easily trumps many trance producers out there, such that The Hive, though not a defining L.S.G. album, remains essential for any collector of the genre. Don’t make the mistake so many others have made in turning a deaf ear to it just because it came out at the wrong time.

Spicelab - A Day On Our Planet

Harthouse America: 1995

I got this shortly after my Dark Hearts 1 experience, the familiar Harthouse logo and Lieb production credits assuring me this was a can’t miss album. Well no, it was actually the charming 90s CG cover art that drew me in, thereby allowing the above to do the rest when I flipped it over. Something seemed off though. Only four tracks? My relatively young experience with trance music couldn’t fathom it, most prior bought compilations and albums holding at least ten to twelve cuts. Okay, these were long songs, averaging between fifteen and twenty minutes each, but I’d never heard trance music of such length before. How could it be done?

Intros, that’s it. Extended ambient soundscapes building atmosphere before proper rhythms and melodies hit. And don’t execute just one single musical idea either, expand upon it, then change things up midway through, creating different parts and sections like a prog rock opus. Don’t forget those outros either. And should you feel inclined to take an odd tangent, by all means go for it! There, fifteen minutes easily taken care of.

I recall reading that Oliver Lieb considered his Spicelab alias an outlet for experiments, even when staying within the confines of whatever sound typified hard electronic music of the time. This coming out during the first wave of trance, there’s definitely an undercurrent of sci-fi delights and spacey melody, coming up strong in up-front hooks on Falling and We Have Spice. On the other half of the album, hard tech-edged and electro sounds dominate, anything resembling a hook often shunted to the side except at key points - vintage voice pads at the climax of A Day On Our Planet and orchestral stabs at the end of Planet Spice. Throughout it all, nothing feels superfluous, though sometimes Lieb does take his sweet time getting to the point.

Oh, and beats? Seeing as how the first two cuts are straight-forward enough, the rhythms tend to be functional, but ‘functional Lieb beats’ outclasses many, so that’s fine here. Things get wonky on the back-half, with an odd pattern in A Day On Our Planet that somehow remains 4/4, and tougher techno dominating Planet Spice. Of course, anyone familiar with his forays into blistering tech-trance under the L.S.G. or S.O.L. monikers won’t be that thrown off, but it’s definitely enough to make these tunes a challenge for the doe-eyed trancecracker discovering Spicelab.

A Day On Our Planet is worth your time and pennies if you’re looking for trance that dares to break with convention, as there’s been scant little like this released after. Why is that, exactly? Techno and house are still releasing twenty minute long tracks, even though they’re often nothing more than slowly evolving loops. Come on, trance producers, let’s see more attempts at tunes breaking the fifteen minute barrier. I know there’s a few of you out there with the production chops, the musical ingenuity, and the gargantuan ball sacks to make it happen.

L.S.G. - The Black Album (Original TC Review)

Superstition: Cat. # 82833-2 

Released June 1998 

Track List: 

1. The Train Of Thought V. 0.9 (2:16) 

2. The Train Of Thought V. 1.1 (6:58) 

3. Go Fishing (8:25) 

4. Cellular (9:21) 

5. The Blaxone (7:43) 

6. Rotation (7:40) 7. 88 (7:00) 

8. Freakz (6:04) 

9. Hellfire (7:14) 

10. Deep Blue (9:28) 

(2010 Update: It undoubtedly shows, but I had a lot of fun writing this review. This was about the point I was realizing meticulously detailed track-by-track writing was quite dry to read, and knew there was no way I'd be able to get away with doing such with this release. So, I let the creative juices loose, turning in one of my more memorable pieces for TC. Wish I'd realized how much better this kind of review was earlier.) 

IN BRIEF: The heart of Lieb’s darkness. 

Oliver Lieb had done it! After half a decade of much critical but little commercial success, he’d finally produced a track that would get played out by trance DJs for years to come. Netherworld gave him the spotlight, won him a legion of new fans, and would earn him decent royalties as the track would go on to be featured on many DJ mix compilations and updated remix packages. It would be so easy for him to rest on those laurels, continue re-hashing Netherworld, and ride the burgeoning trance wave into the sunset. 

Except that’s not what happened. Seeing the forthcoming commercialization of the genre he helped pioneer, Lieb gave the masses the finger and took his L.S.G. moniker in the completely opposite direction of epic anthems. His Black Series was not meant for those who’d just discovered trance as it was getting super-popular, but for those who’d stuck it out during the unforgiving underground years. It was his way of weeding out the L.S.G. bandwagoners, whom would come expecting more Netherworlds.  Well, that’s my theory, anyway. 

Truthfully, that entire paragraph is just speculation. I think very few know exactly why Lieb took L.S.G. into unfriendly underground territories just as trance was blowing up all over Europe. Was it a knee-jerk reaction to the commercialization of the genre he fostered? Or perhaps he just decided to do a little experimenting? Probably only he knows for certain, but as a man who has always done exactly what he wants, I’m sure he had a very good reason for it. He’d probably quaintly answer you if you asked, although it is admittedly more fun to speculate. 

Yes, The Black Album isn’t the most accessible CD. The tracks contained on here come from a string of vinyls known as The Black Series, and are arranged into a continuous mix. However, because the songs on those vinyls were strictly intended for the dancefloor, this creates a difficult album to sit back to. 

What’s on it, then? Tech-trance, but only the most aggressive, unrelenting sort. This isn’t the kind of stuff you’d hear from guys like Marco V or Sander van Doorn; Lieb’s material eats their tracks as a midnight snack and takes a second helping without asking. You’ll find scant traces of any kind of melody, and usually only in a warped fashion. It’s primal, it’s feral, it’s predatory. To use a current cheesy yet popular internet meme, The Black Album is the Chuck Norris of tech-trance. 

Wisely, Lieb opens the album up with The Train Of Thought, as it has the closest thing approaching a melody (the 0.9 version is just an ambient-ish intro). Amongst murky, mechanical rhythms, a pulse of spacey synth pierces the unsettling atmosphere every so often. Various effects tweak it throughout, distorting its resonance as the song progresses. There is no real conventional structure to The Train Of Thought, simply building upon layers of sound to raise the intensity of the track. It certainly is an entrancing bit of music but, if you find it not to your taste, you might want to seek other pastures; the tech influences only get stronger from here. 

Go Fishing offers a clearer taste of what’s to come. Although the blasting distorted sirens, eerie effects, and synthetic pads could be construed as hooks, they don’t offer much in melody. Rather, they’re there to accentuate the driving mechanical rhythms as layer upon layer of loops keep building this track’s intensity. Yeah, it’s quite similar to Train Of Thought in structure, but far less benign in nature. 

From here, any notion of detailing the rest of The Black Album in our usual method just flies out the window. Every track melds into each other, and, although you can usually tell when a different song is playing, it isn’t easy listening as there’s very little in terms of conventional hooks or melodies. And the sounds Lieb creates? Forget it. I don’t think there are any proper metaphors in my vocabulary to do them justice. The drone of a starship reactor; industrial strength clangs and clonks; brief bits of sputtering, distorted acid squelches; cyborg jembe drummers; splashes of bright synth; growling Imperial AT-ATs; demonic screams; radioactive chemicals boiling in huge factory vats; Unicron having a tummy ache; wraith-like wails; whatever else you may have. All this and more can be heard through tracks Cellular to Freakz, and it can be an unsettling experience if you succumb to the madness of it all.  

The remarkable thing about all this is, despite the relative inaccessibility of these tracks, they are still amazingly seductive. Lieb has paid an incredible amount of attention to his rhythms, hooking you into their mesmerizing dance. All these menacing sound effects throughout are there to provide a primal backdrop, grabbing your primitive brain so the rhythms can overwhelm you. And with each successive track laying down the rhythms harder and fiercer, the intensity of this album just continuously escalates with no end in sight. 

The final two tracks, Hellfire and Deep Blue, might trick you into thinking you’ll find some solace, as spacey synthy washes rather than menacing sounds provide the atmosphere. Alas for the weak at heart, Lieb shows no mercy, cranking his rhythms into overdrive in his rush to the finish. Hellfire is a hypnotizing cacophony of percussion while Deep Blue unleashes his fiercest kicks yet. You’ll only escape the madness of this once the droning, synthetic pads of Deep Blue finally recede. 

Madness. Absolutely yes, The Black Album could cause madness if you let it. This is not something for throwing on while lounging about home enjoying tea and crumpets. The music on here is simply designed to pummel logic and reason into submission and let pure instinct take over. And this, my friends, can frighten many people. We do not readily enjoy losing control of our sensibilities, letting the animal within us to override our judgment. As such, the music on here will just come across as irritating noise if you merely play it in the background, your logic center uncaring towards what’s going on since the music defies what we typically expect out of trance, much less music in general. The entire middle section can easily pass you by without anything leaping out for your attention. 

It may be a music journalistic cliché to say this, but The Black Album really is an album that demands your undivided attention, preferably while in the process of doing something active to get your adrenaline going (I recommend dancing, but working out, running, driving, or sexing can probably do in a pinch). I wouldn’t exactly say you’ll be rewarded for such attentiveness though, as you may not feel comfortable in where it’ll take you. Still, it will certainly not be a trip you’ll likely forget. 

Score: 7/10 

ACE TRACKS: 

The Train Of Thought 1.1 

Hellfire 

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

L.S.G. - Volume 2 (Original TC Review)

Superstition Records: Cat. # 2069 CDM 

Released 1996 

Track List: 

1. Can U Hear Me? (3:54) 

2. Hear My Voice (3:40) 

3. Novastorm (7:48) 

4. Get Out (5:48) 

5. Lectrolyte (8:20) 

6. Microfish (2:46) 

7. Netherworld (11:00) 

8. Freakme (6:36)

 9. Firefly (12:17) 

10. Centurion (11:01) 

 (2010 Update: Nothing much to update here. The grammar's still a little clunky but a huge improvement over my early reviews nonetheless. Hey, I'd had over half a year to get the hang of it by now!) 

IN BRIEF: Starring Netherworld! Co-starring a bunch of really good songs you've probably overlooked. 

This is the one. From this album on, the face of trance music would never be the same and the man behind it, Oliver Lieb, for so long hidden in obscurity behind various guises, would be propelled into the club spotlight whether he wanted it or not. And the song that would accomplish this was dubbed Netherworld. 

I'm sure it may be difficult for some of the newer fans of trance to realize this but, before Netherworld became the anthem it did, the structure of trance wasn't quite as set in stone as it is today. The concept of dropping all rhythm to allow the main melody to be presented after some lead-in, while done at times, was hardly indicative of where trance stood during those years. For the most part the genre was quite content to remain the more hypnotic, melodic, or acidy offshoot of techno. 

A funny thing started to happen around this time, though. A number of prolific DJs who had been making a name for themselves playing various forms of house music for so long (though mostly progressive) started to catch ear of some of these other-worldly songs and began to incorporate them into their sets. Thanks to heavy hitters such as Netherworld, very soon these forms of trance (dubbed progressive trance, probably because the songs fit best in prog house sets; why bother creating a whole new adjective when a previous redundant one will do) would dominate clubland, making gods of guys who play records. 

Of course, things took a turn for the worse in small part when attention-seeking DJs overplayed it in hopes of deity-like worship, but in large part from hundreds of imitators flooding the market with cheap knock-offs, perhaps striking upon the winning formula that spearheaded the initial wave once out of every five hundred attempts (they're still trying, too). Okay, maybe that's unfair. The fact remains, though, there hasn't been many songs that have managed to emulate the stormer that Netherworld is, and for good reason. There simply are very few producers out there that are as talented as Oliver Lieb when it comes to trance. The recent re-release with new remixes of the track guarantees its legacy will continue for the new generation of trance lovers. 

So what does one of the defining prog trance anthems sound like? Structurally about the same as nearly any prog trance: a couple minutes of lead-in, followed by a breakdown featuring the main melody on its own before percussion is brought back with renewed intensity; some embellishing of either rhythm or secondary melodies for a bit, then right back into the main course before finishing out. Yeah, sounds familiar, doesn't it? 

What makes Netherworld stand out from the pack, though, is Lieb's unique synth patches. Most of the percussion is abrasive and mechanical, something that wouldn't sound too out of place in an industrial track. If it weren't for the main melody, this song would have probably remained on the fringes of trance music. 

And what a melody it is. Hitting all the right emotional notes to sweep you off your feet, a stuttering synth with plenty of trailing echo contrasts wonderfully with the hard-hitting rhythm. Throw in sweet supplementary bits like ethereal voices (the same ones sampled by The Orb in their song Blue Room, although I have no idea what the original source is), secondary melodies that would have been strong songs in themselves, and electro bridges, and you have yourself a track that hasn't diminished nearly a decade since its creation. I've yet to come across a fan of trance that doesn't enjoy Netherworld to some extent. Whether you like the rhythmic or melodic aspects of the genre (or better yet, both), you'll find something to sink your teeth into here. 

But wait, my good friends! Don't hit that back button just yet. While Netherworld may be regarded as the main attraction on Volume 2, there is still a whole album's worth of material to enjoy. However, if you are expecting more Netherworlds or even just a continuation of the L.S.G. debut Rendezvous In Outer Space, you will be in for a bit of a shock. This may just be a rumor but some believe Lieb was a bit pressed to release this album due to the initial buzz over the main single. 

While I cannot confirm this, I certainly can believe it, as the facts pointing towards a slightly rushed release seem evident. A weak album title notwithstanding, for one thing Volume 2 comes just a mere year after the first L.S.G. album. You might have thought Lieb would want to focus on a different project for a while. Well, perhaps he had been, because for two things, a number of these tracks bear a striking semblance to Lieb's more experimental alias, Spicelab, than the simpler L.S.G. works. Indeed, the credits state this album was "mixed and mastered by O. Lieb & Spicelab." Who does he think he's kidding? One may be led to think this album was padded out by Spicelab material sitting in the reserves. Still, I can't think of a better source for padding. 

Mind, the opening two tracks Can U Hear Me? and Hear My Voice (really, they could be called Hear Me: Parts 1 And 2, as they have much in common) don't contain many Spicelab sounds, but then they really are nothing more than intro tracks to the album: the former being more ambient and grand sounding, the latter setting up the pace with shuffling rhythms and echoing synth stabs, amongst other tidbits of effects. No, it's with Novastorm where L.S.G. meets Spicelab. 

Right off the bat, you can tell Novastorm is unabashedly old school trance. The rhythm is simple so as not to distract you from all the hypnotic loops in effect. Layers of strings stabs, spacey pads, and eerie effects that have been heard in many a Spicelab track come and go throughout this song, none of which attempts to make itself more pronounced than the rest. Without any major melodies at work here, this track is trance music that one can easily get lost in. As the loops are gradually stripped away towards the end, a little electronic arpeggio emerges alongside the pads, fading away. 

Don't let this calming ending lull you into a false sense of security, though. Futuristic soundscapes start to drone ominously at the beginning of Get Out, growing in intensity as bits of percussion are gradually added. Finally, some two minutes in, fierce breakbeats suddenly pummel you as added, bassy effects energize you. This promises to be something special but, sadly, the payoff doesn't quite live up to the lead-in. Sure, there are some wonderfully menacing moments to be had in the second half of Get Out, but this track seems to almost serve as more of a lead-in to the next track, Lectrolyte, than an individual song of itself. 

As for Lectrolyte, this is another wonderfully simple, loopy little trancer, and the most melodic number yet on Volume 2 as it features those splendid stuttering synth chords Lieb's a master of. However, the middle portion of this track is mostly used up with embellishing sound effects and, because the rhythm is unwaveringly repetitive throughout, casual trance fans may overlook the nice parts of this track if they are impatient. The bubbly bass of Lectrolyte repeats itself on its own for a minute towards the end of its run as the ambient track Microfish starts out, an interesting little excursion of synthetic sounds slowly mimicking the songs of orca (at least, that's what it sounds like to me). However, it's more of an intermission of a track before we get back into the heavier hitters, and the heaviest hitter of the lot on Volume 2, Netherworld, follows. 

As I've already gone on about this song, let me just mention it in the context of this album. Considering how loopy, hypnotic, and relatively unmelodic this album's been thus far, Netherworld really leaps out at you. In fact, it's a stark contrast compared to what's come before. Lieb was quite correct in placing the more ambient Microfish before it, as I don't think Netherworld would have been able to fit within the context of this album otherwise. Likewise, following it up with the rhythm-heavy Freakme is just as clever, as Netherworld is a tough act to follow as well. With the main melody of Netherworld trailing off for a minute or so, the grumbling bass of Freakme that emerges from it can be quite startling, but it fits perfectly. We are entering more Spicelab-y territory, though, so don't expect anything that sounds immediate. You're going to have to do some serious paying attention to hear anything beyond random, bubbly sounds and bottom heavy rhythms. 

The rest of this album carries on with the Spicelab influences, sucking you into a deep, deep trance with the floaty Firefly and the even more experimentally rhythmic Centurion. To try and describe these songs would be a challenge in itself, one I doubt I know enough adjectives to utilize. I will say, however, those looking for big melodies to cap off Volume 2 will be severely disappointed. Aside from some very catchy mechanical percussion sounds in Centurion, everything on this final stretch is built around subtlety and hypnotic soundscapes; trance in its purest form. 

Now, I'd be lying if I said this was a perfect album. Despite the strong collection of individual tracks on hand, that sense of album flow that is common in nearly every other L.S.G. full length is missing. Rather, it feels as though Volume 2 goes from section to section, with hardly any relation to previous ones. In one sense, this isn't too bad of an idea as it can help take the listener on different journeys through the course of the CD instead of dwelling on the same theme throughout. In fact, it plays quite wonderfully for those keener on individual tracks. However, if you are looking for individual tracks, that’s what singles are for. 

When I - and I'm certain many others - go into an L.S.G. album, there is a tendency to expect the whole to encompass a specific theme -why else would you bother to have all the tracks mixed together? Volume 2 just doesn't have that, and it is a bit of a letdown when songs at the end of the album bare no semblance to songs at the beginning without a logical bridge between them. I still highly recommend this album, of course, if anything because the individual tracks are quite enjoyable for fans of nearly any kind of trance. Just be prepared for a bit of a disjointed listen if you play this release through.

Score: 8/10 

ACE TRACKS: 

Netherworld 

Firefly

Novastorm 

Written by Sykonee. Originally published 2005 for www.TranceCritic.com.© All rights reserved.

L.S.G. - Rendezvous In Outer Space (Original TC Review)

Superstition: Cat# 2038CD
Released 1995

Track List:
1. Wrong Time - Wrong Place (9:50)
2. Lonely Casseopaya (3:56)
3. My Time Is Yours (5:53)
4. Can You See The Yellow Turtles (5:40)
5. Miss Understanding (2:42)
6. Sweet Gravity (4:43)
7. Sweet G #2 (2:43)
8. The Hidden Sun Of Venus (5:05)
9. Lunar Orbit (2:27)
10. Everything Is (2:18)
11. Enter Paradise (7:02)
12. Fontana (8:17)
13. Reprise (1:43)

(2010 Update:
When I first started writing for TranceCritic, I had a few writing projects in mind, one of which was to review every single L.S.G. album in a monthly series. Er, it's still a work in progress, though I only have a couple left to do. Patience, my friends, patience.)

IN BRIEF: The L.S.G. debut album. Ten years later, it still hasn't lost its shine.

Everyone knows Oliver Lieb, even if they don't realize it. His tracks have appeared on countless trance albums, compilations, and DJ mixes (from the superstars to the not-so-superstars). His contributions to trance as a whole have been felt from the earliest days of the genre's existence, rightfully earning him the title of the Godfather of Trance. Yet, because he has more aliases than a centipede has legs, Lieb has maintained a remarkably low profile, consistently releasing excellent material without much fanfare aside from those in the know. One of his aliases did manage to gain notice though, thanks in large part to prominent DJs playing out Lieb's music: L.S.G.

After a string of singles, Lieb released the first L.S.G. full length album in 1995 with Rendezvous In Outer Space, a rather suitable title considering what's to follow on this album. Yes, my friends, Rendezvous In Outer Space is trance... as in original trance (classic trance, real trance, old timer's trance, 'techno'), the kind of stuff that uses plenty of spacey, hypnotic, electronic sounds to draw the listener into other-worldly soundscapes.

But wait, progressive-anthem-epic trance lovers, don't flee just yet. One of the reasons the L.S.G. releases became so popular was for Lieb's talent of infusing soaring synth melodies into his tracks. Indeed, much of what is heard at even this early stage of L.S.G. productions still sounds amazingly up to date, as though they could have been produced just this past year and fit snuggly into any trance DJ's set at peak time.

Still, Lieb often crafted his albums with certain themes in mind, so not everything on Rendezvous is pure trance.

In fact, the first track, Wrong Time - Wrong Place, really is nothing more than an opener; a teaser of things to come. Sure, it is a nine minute long track with plenty of momentum but half of it is fairly standard lead in, with layers of synths, effects, and percussion progressively being added. By the time the main lead starts up, we're already four minutes into it.

This isn't a bad thing by any means, of course. All too often an album will put all its eggs into the basket with the opener, leaving the listener with not much to look forward to. By letting Wrong Time - Wrong Place just subtly hint at what to expect, the anticipation can only grow.

As the song finishes up, the melancholic, stuttering synth chords of Lonely Casseopaya emerge from the background, eventually given time to just play on their own -and why not? They really are quite lovely to listen to. A bit of simple rhythm is eventually added but it doesn't take away from the main melody, allowing it to carry this song throughout.

My Time Is Yours materializes as Lonely Casseopaya ends, treating us to an ominous contrast to the previous track with a looming sample uttering the track's title. The pace picks up as eerie, raspy synth pads weave about with sputtering electronic lines. In a mild breakdown halfway through, an innocent sounding melody counteracts the menacing atmosphere, creating a wonderful play on contrasts within this track as it rushes towards its end.

So far we've been treated to some great sounding individual songs here but Lieb seems ready to take us further into his trip through the cosmos with tracks that complement the next very well.

Can You See The Yellow Turtles certainly gets us going on the right foot, as it drives with even more energy than My Time Is Yours did. After some three minutes of vigorous rhythms, a distorted, stuttering pad creates an incredibly moving melody, feeding off the heavy percussion to create an unforgettable, sonic treat. Miss Understanding slides quite comfortably in as Yellow Turtles ends on its main pads, matching the former track's atmosphere quite nicely with punchy rhythm that doesn't lose anything during the switch. In fact, they harmonize with each other so well, for a while I thought they were the same track.

However, Miss Understanding doesn't get much of a chance to show off, as it ends almost as soon as it begins. A bit of a shame, I suppose, as there are some interesting effects at play here, but Lieb has relegated this track as a transitional song to lead us into Sweet Gravity.

Now this is what I love to hear in trance: unique sounds creating new melodies. At first, the guttural effect used here certainly doesn't sound like it could be used to make any music out of, but as Lieb adds higher pitches to this sound, notes seem to emerge. The low and high pitches play around about for a minutes worth of lead in but never mingling, merely hinting and teasing at things to come. Thus, when the two octaves merge just as the kick hits, the release of primal energy is potent.

However, Lieb doesn't play this up as much as he potentially could. Instead of coming on even fiercer, he seems quite content to let a flat, muted version of this lead take over for most of the rest of Sweet Gravity, only bringing the original sounds back towards the end. Sour grapes, I guess, but perhaps he wanted to take the energy level down a bit following the previous two tracks as we are beginning to head into the more ethereal part of Rendezvous In Outer Space.

Sweet G (#2) more or less retains the same basic melody as its former compatriot, except relies on spacey synth chords and atmospherics than infectious hooks and driving rhythms (although, it does briefly have some of that, too). As the song fades out, eerie pads emerge as The Hidden Sun Of Venus takes us on an ambient excursion through space. Mechanical effects pulse their way along as these synthy sonic textures meander about, which makes the shift into Lunar Orbit very smooth, the latter's atmosphere even more mechanically ominous than anything else on this album. After this ten-minute sequence of three tracks, one could feel as though they'd taken a brief tour through the inner solar system.

A fairly simple little trancer with Everything Is takes us back down to Earth. Relying more on rhythm and hypnotic effects than anything else to carry it forward, the track merely serves its purpose to segue us nicely into Enter Paradise, a track that flies with fantastic synth chords, stuttering electronic lines, and energetic rhythms. As this song ends, the synth chords are replaced with voice pad chords to end off on a harmonious note. This would have been a perfect cap on an already solid album but Lieb manages to go one better with what follows.

Abandoning all the standard rhythmic structures that have been previously established on Rendezvous, Lieb explores the frenetic percussive elements of breakbeat tracks in Fontana's lead in. The rhythm gets really busy as layers are continuously added for nearly two and a half minutes, yet no solid kicks of any sort surface. Mildly breaking down at this point, a soaring melody emerges, using a similar distorted, stuttering synth pad that was wielded wonderfully in Yellow Turtles. Some two minutes later, the main melody takes a seat to allow Lieb to get creative with the percussion, embellishing with hi-hats, snares, and toms like a kid with his first drum kit. And, while that wonderful melody doesn't exactly return in Fontana, in the aptly named Reprise, it gets the full glory to play out with orchestral strings as a gentle pulse throbs in the background like a heartbeat -now that's a way to cap off an album.

While Rendezvous In Outer Space isn't exactly the greatest album Lieb produced as L.S.G. (although still leagues above many contemporary trance acts), it is undeniably the most comprehensive of them. Touching upon all facets of the alias, it serves as the best primer if you are just getting into the L.S.G. works, as the various themes throughout would be explored in greater detail in later albums. From here, you could leap into the harder sounds of The Black Album from My Time Is Yours, or the otherworldly Into Deep from The Hidden Sun Of Venus, or the trancey favorites of Volume 2 from Lonely Casseopaya and Fontana, depending on your particular taste.

Score: 8/10

ACE TRACKS:
Lonely Casseopaya
My Time Is Yours
Fontana

Written by Sykonee. Originally published 2005 for TranceCritic.com.© All rights reserved.