Various - Trance Mission: Leon Bolier & Mike Shiver (Original TC Review)

Cloud 9: 2008

(2016 Update:
Hey look, it's me returning to that 'rip-on-trance' shtick our little website had gained a reputation for. Not that I desired a return to that, but this came out in an off-month, and me being a sucker for any sort of title that brought up old-school flashbacks, figured this might be worth a listen-over. Sure beat giving the boys at Armada another chance, though I can't say this was much better. Listening to this again, it really throws a spotlight on how directionless the trance scene had become by the late '00s, trying and adapting any trendy new sound to stay relevant; heck, I even mentioned as such in this review, though I neglecting bringing up the short-lived '8th note' micro-genre. And Bolier's mix remains the more interesting of the two, the tunes at least trying to come up with an original style, despite some of it full of fail.

I touched on Leon's career trajectory in my update of his debut album Pictures, but what of Mike Shiver? How has he held up? He jumped on that 'trouse' bandwagon along with the rest of them, including producing a track called Trouse. Look, his mix here was already filled with quickly dated trendwhoring tunes, so of course he'd keep doing the deed in the new decade. Guy's got a label to run, radio shows to promote; can't be left behind when there's bank to be made on the festival circuit.)


IN BRIEF: Now I remember...

When we were compiling our annual Worst Of TC list back in January, I was surprised by the outcome. Not the tracks themselves, as they all deserved their place in our Hall of Shame, but whereas my writing compatriots J’ and Will had a slew of dodgy epic trance in their choices, I offered none. At first I figured it had more to do with the odds, as I did review quite a range of music, exposed to material far worse than teeth-rotting trance (especially so in the ‘electro fart’ camps), but when I looked back on what I had covered, I was surprised to find mostly positive reviews of the genre. So then I thought perhaps epic melodic trance as a whole had gotten better, despite the odd sour tomato that makes its way to the top (Anthem, anyone?). Or could it be me? Had I maybe grown beyond gut distaste of this particular scene? Maybe I had achieved that mythical ‘post-jaded’ mindset.

After listening to this new double disc of trance titled Trance Mission, the real answer was given: I was just lucky. But more on that in a bit; first, some background one what exactly it is we have here.

So what we have here is the debut commercial DJ mixes of a pair of producers long time fans of melodic trance should be familiar with: Leon Bolier and Mike Shiver. I suppose the best way to describe their status in the trance echelon is ‘third tier’: both are certainly recognizable names, but neither have produced anything most would instantly be able to recall; also, in just about any popularity poll, they are typically mired in the middle of the pack. Fine if you’re content to remain at such a point in your career, but perhaps they’ve been chomping at the bit to take their careers to the next level, and doing a DJ mix for growing dance music distributor Cloud 9 certainly is a step in the right direction. Let’s find out how their first efforts are then.

Mr. Bolier gets dibs on the first disc, and takes off in fine fashion with Moonbeam’s catchy I Love Mornings. A couple pleasant trancey numbers later, and his mix takes a turn for the poppy. Very poppy. In fact... Heck, y’know friends? This is eurodance! Granted, Lange has always had an ear for that side of dance music, but just listen to what Schössow does in his remix of Beatitude (the peak after Kirsty Hawkshaw’s naff bit of singing). That bouncy hook is straight out of the big book of mid-90s euro; all that’s missing is a white ragga MC. Heh, it’d be quite interesting to see what Bolier would do with this sound if he decided to resurrect it somehow.

Instead, we are quickly courted off to the realms of decent-but-unremarkable progressive trance for a very long stretch. There’s little here I’d call awful (Jennifer Rene’s over-emoting on Invincible aside) but not much that gets the blood stirring either. Trouble is Bolier’s track sequence is quite dry, with too many unnecessary breakdowns lined up one after the other (the one in Extensions is particularly useless, not to mention Wardt’s use of glitchy percussion isn’t nearly as clever as it tries to be; nice moody tone though), with tracks that are timid in ratcheting the energy up after such downtime. About the only two that make standing impressions are Breakfast’s cascading white-noise synths in Dancing In The Moonlight, and Bolier’s own collaboration with Sied van Riel in Malibeer, an effective hard stomper (shame about the track resetting all that built-up energy at the end though).

On the other hand, perhaps this was intentional on Bolier’s part. After all, the track that lifts his set out of this middling funk is his own Ocean Drive Boulevard, an epic anthem that delivers on all fronts. And by following it up with a dark grumbler in Prominent and the energetic First Light from Bart Claessen, you have a final sequence of tracks that literally gallops with gusto towards the finish. It definitely paints his own music in a positive light, but still is a shame he didn’t dive into this material sooner, as Bolier exhibits some fine DJing sense here.

Ultimately, Leon’s a quality DJ when he bangs it out (or indulges in eurodance) but is hobbled by all the mediocre prog trance he seems insistent to play. How does Mike Shiver compare then?

Frankly, not at all, as his CD is quite different. Shiver’s delivered a set that highlights all that has gone wrong with trance this decade: the grotesque breakdowns, the insipid vocals, the melodic tripe, and, more recently, the cringe-worthy attempts at jumping on the ‘electro’ bandwagon.

For instance, what on earth is Sami Saari doing here? His lead hook is so terribly hokey, I can’t help but burst out in laughter at how much of an attitude try-hard it is. Even nu-skool breaks never came up with anything that corny; it’s like the shirtless barstar that wanders into a rave, hooped up on ecstasy and with powder on his nose, hootin’ and hollarin’ over how “phukin phat that shit is” while he tries to hump your girlfriend (and complains about the lack of PLUR when you tell him to fuck off). And Nic Chagall once again shows us how to utterly kill the momentum in a set with a remix of Cause You Know, where his limp rhythms actually have less playing time than all the nonsense he indulges in during his wank breakdowns and builds.

There’s plenty more I could rag on here, but let’s deal with the few positives instead: great bassline in Mat Zo’s remix of Music Is For Rich People; lovely remix of Helsinki Scorchin’ by Michael Cassette (an alias of two guys, for the record); solid beats in Marksun & Brian’s Saterday. These are some great moments, and I feel rather embarrassed for them to be surrounded by so much turgid fairy trance.

How there’s still a market for this Anjuna-like stuff is beyond me. The early lame ‘electro’ excursions aside, little on Shiver's disc sounds like it couldn’t have been produced during the last five years, and this sound’s always been ‘heard one, heard all’; it’s depressingly scared to shake the gravy train. Even the most over-sentimental femme-pop isn’t this sappy (the ultra-produced uplifting synths really lay it on thick). At least Bolier’s disc was mostly self-aware during its cheesier moments; here it’s far too po-faced to be any fun.

As for Mike Shiver: The DJ, there really isn’t much to be said. His set’s perfunctory and lacking in surprises (Saterday being a clear exception); he’s essentially an Anjuna promo-bot, as nothing here stands out from all the other Anjuna/Armada/etc. DJs, although the ‘electro’ at the beginning suggests he’s perhaps recently dipped into the blow as well (and come away none the better for it).

So yes, I was indeed lucky in the year of 2007. Producers like Stephen J. Kroos and DJs like Menno de Jong had me believing the epic melodic side of trance was showing potential redemption in the wider world of club culture, and so long as guys like them continue to push ahead in their own way, it does. With tracks like Prominent and Saterday, Trance Mission itself offers glimpses of such too. However, Bolier and especially Shiver have also shown the genre still has a long way to go before all credibility is restored.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved.

High Contrast - Tough Guys Don't Dance (Original TC Review)

Hospital Records: 2007

(2016 Update)
'Tough guys' may not dance, but only when we're dishin' out some tough, critical love, eh? I mean, wow, I could be a hard ass on trance in the TranceCritic days, but I sure wasn't giving High Contrast much slack here. I think the problem was, listening to this album a few times over as I typically did before reviewing something back then, a number of these tracks quickly grew too repetitive for my liking. Having some years and musical distance from this album though, Tough Guys Don't Dance is actually a good rollickin' time, great for a dunk into super-fun liquid funk before getting out of an overcrowded pool. Alright, I was also parroting some of the d'n'b narrative I'd read at the time regarding Hospital Records, but that label's endured remarkably well in the ensuing decade, remaining steadfast in its uplifting manifesto even as different trends come and go.

As for High Contrast, this was his last album, a shame. What, that record a few years ago, with the dubstep and the pointless, weak-sauce collaboration with Tiësto and Underworld? Whatever is this Bizarro Earth you speak of? Does Donald Trump rule your realm?)


IN BRIEF: The soul is in danger of becoming stagnant.

Credit must be given where it is due. Drum ‘n’ bass was in serious danger of growing far too self-serious after the turn of the century, even for itself. Then along comes some young upstart named Lincoln Barrett and, along with the Hospital Records crew, reminded the world the genre can be filled with plenty of uplifting optimistic vibes too. Soaring strings, singing soul sistas, and Robert Owens invaded the realm of jungle militants, and for a while it seemed as though liquid funk would be the future of ‘dee’bee’.

That was half a decade ago [ed: even longer now!]. Obviously the big Hospital take-over didn’t quite occur, but still they carved out their niche and have stayed the course with their sound... and stayed... and stayed... and now that just isn’t enough.

Yes, folks, it’s true. Rumors and buzzes from the underground abound that liquid funk has become played out; is past its prime; in need of a rest; if not, at least some re-invention. The same ol’ formula can only carry a scene for so long before predictable production becomes too common, and this sub-genre of jungle is decidedly drawing nearer to such a period. With two highly regarded albums already under his belt, can Mr. Barrett prove there’s still plenty of life in the girl on his third High Contrast full-length?

Forever And A Day makes a strong argument for the case. With rhythms that gets the heart racing and orchestral swells that set the spirit soaring, this is liquid funk at peak proficiency. In many other forms of music, a lyric like “and the birds are singing pretty little songs” would get snickered out of the scene, but in the hands of High Contrast, he makes it exhilarating. Top notch stuff, my friends.

Nothing else comes close to that track on Tough Guys Don’t Dance, but Barrett shouldn’t be expected to hit a grand-slam every time. However, although each tune he crafts is easily above average, very few of them are a home-run either. It’s fine for a few tracks into the album, but by the time Eternal Optimist and Chances roll along, the template has become far too predictable and lacks the panache that made Forever And A Day such a winner.

The trouble lies in the fact a lot of Lincoln’s tricks are over-familiar now, and he doesn’t do much on this album to shake the formula up. You’d think a producer of his caliber wouldn’t dare be caught going through the motions, yet it honestly does sound like he is with his liquid funk offerings. The r’n’b divas, the soulful crooners (mostly J’Nay in this case), the smooth rolling basslines, the 2-step breakbeats, and the orchestral samples: almost all of it sounds like it could have been produced at any point in his career, and without the care to treat them as something more than just another tune to rinse out by the Hospital Records roster. Fine and dandy for brief one-offs at a club night, sure, but unfortunately rather stale in an album context, especially one’s third.

There are moments where he does deter from the template, and unsurprisingly these tracks are amongst the album’s highlights. Opener If We Ever may have most of liquid funk’s requisite trappings, but instead relies on some old school jungle rhythms which are good fun. Elsewhere, Nobody Gets Out Alive adds a twist to things by making use of a bassline that pounds rather than rolls and some old blues sample that wouldn’t have sounded too out of place on Moby’s Play. The two atmospheric cuts - Tread Softly and The Ghost Of Jungle Past - although quite stuck in the 90s, are lush. As for his fiercer offerings like Sleepless, Metamorphosis, and Pink Flamingos, they’re hit or miss, and ultimately serving as little better than breaks in the liquid funk monotony.

Hn. Reading this back, and it seems like I’m just bitching about liquid funk, when truthfully I do enjoy the stuff. It is, after all, quite uplifting music. However, its mostly singular execution on Mr. Barrett’s third doesn’t offer as much depth as you’d expect given how nifty the surface often presents itself. Still, Tough Guys Don’t Dance is hardly a write-off. The highlights are stellar, the atmospheric detours are pleasant, and tracks like Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and Everything’s Different are class, if somewhat formulaic.

I’ve heard High Contrast criticized as being drum ‘n’ bass for newbies, which is rather unfair (jump-up still holds the crown for that distinction) but I can see where such critics are coming from. Lincoln’s stuff is very accessible for the uninitiated junglist and would prefer keeping a party active rather than challenge the listener. However, by sticking to such simple tried and tested tactics, his appeal won’t last should you explore the realm of jungle further, as producers with far greater tricks abound. If you have a passing fancy for liquid funk, Tough Guys Don’t Dance will serve you find, but seasoned vets of the scene may be disappointed.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved.

Various - Time Warp Compilation 07: Loco Dice (Original TC Review)

Time Warp: 2007

(2016 Update:
I didn't talk much about Loco Dice in this review, beyond the music he selected and mixed on disc. We're nearly a decade on though, and plenty's gone down in Yassine's career in that time. He continued rising in the ranks of trendy DJ circles, established his own print in Desolat, and has maintained his presence and brand in all corners of minimal and tech-house circuits. Great for when the sound was the hottest shit on the market, but it's since substantially receded, and Loco Dice's stock has... pretty much stayed right where it's always been. Never at the very top of his scene, but still popular enough that any talk of falling off is absurd. Of course, a bunch of cooler music has overtaken minimal as the fresh hotness, but Dice's brand is much too entrenched to go quietly in the night. He's here for the long haul, with whatever great or bleak expectations you expect of the chap and this sound.

As for this Time Warp set, jay-zeus was it ever a slog to trudge through again. The first disc has a nice dub groove going for a while, but is so mind-sapping repetitive I flake out on it midway. CD2, meanwhile, is engaging throughout for curiosity of whether the plonk-donk-bleh sounds can go anymore absurd. Oh indeed they can, brah'. We pretty much gave up trying to 'get' minimal after this at TranceCritic.)


IN BRIEF: Neo-chill.

The Time Warp festival in Germany is a fairly big deal. No, really it is! It’s been around for over a decade and often secures top DJ talent like Sven Väth, Carl Cox, Speedy J, Paul van Dyk, Adam Beyer, DJ Hell, Laurent Garnier, Richie Hawtin, and so on. In recent years, it’s even gone on to become as much a media arts festival as a musical one.

Still, there are a great number of folks who aren’t aware of it. This is mostly due to the fact Time Warp isn’t your typical electronic music gathering. Firstly, as most of those listed DJs will hint at, techno tends to be the focus. A few other genres are invited, of course, but this is a festival with phrases like ‘pushing the boundaries of musical innovation’ and ‘showcasing forward-thinking arts’ are gospel. Fortunately, the air doesn’t suffocate with hipster pretentiousness but Time Warp certainly doesn’t have the mainstream in mind when they promote themselves.

Anyhow, like any good festival, Time Warp provides a yearly DJ mix for folks to either remember it by or find out what they may have missed. A noticeable path towards the minimal sounds of techno has become apparent over the years and, perhaps predictably, 2007's edition has taken the full plunge. The man behind the sequencing this time out is none other than possibly one of biggest rising names in the minimal scene: Loco Dice.

I think the main thing you need to be aware of with Time Warp ‘07 is this isn’t much of a mainroom release. Sure, minimal has promoted itself as such in recent years, especially ever since most reputable magazine gave the music their official blessing. However, even though you’ll see many minimal acts headline now, this music is still primarily focused on subtlety and nuances, atmosphere and soundscapes; euphoric melodies or pummeling rhythms need not apply. Essentially, minimal is to techno what deep house is to, um, house.

Loco Dice is given two discs to work with here, each with slightly differing tone. The first is more atmospheric, with dubby sounds and the odd synth wave rolling through. Meanwhile, disc two takes us deeper into the murk, with a few token nods to the naughtier side of techno as well. His mixing is silky smooth, with transitions so unnoticeable, you’d think it was the same track playing for long stretches at a time. Actually, that’s part of the problem with this release.

Yes, it is all finely crafted. Yes, there are some nice sounds to be heard. And yes, Loco Dice does do minimal justice. However, this set is seriously flatlined from the start. It never builds any tension, it never leads to different ideas, and a lot of these tracks sound so damned similar to each other. A few of them are even separated by nearly a decade but you wouldn’t be able to tell unless you were familiar with the tunes. It either goes to show how groundbreaking Basic Channel (as Round Two here) was, or how lacking in new ideas the whole genre is. Since I’m not that cynical, I’ll go with the former in this case, but it still doesn’t help the fundamental problem with Loco Dice’s mix.

Which is this: anytime he lays down a track that could shift the set somewhere, the follow-up always brings you back to status quo. There are plenty of examples littered throughout, but probably most obvious is the way he ends Disc 1. The final track is from James Pennington’s Suburban Knight, a welcomed deviation of ice-cool electro breaks from the steady stream of soft beats the first disc was filled with. In most cases, a DJ will use the final track as a lead-off point to set the tone of the second disc. Not here though. Instead, we’re right back to square one with Jambi’s Lunar Park Blues, a track that could have just as easily fit into the beginning of Disc 1. And things again don’t differ much until the final track of CD2 either. Dice almost seems afraid to shake things up, lest he lose his hipster audience.

I’m sure there are a legion of minimal fans out there who’d argue there are massive differences between the tracks, yet their idea of a ‘choon’ moment is when the next song has a crisper hand-clap. But yes, there are good tracks scattered about: DJ Emerson’s paranoid Ring My Bell; Plastikman’s space acid Glob; the relatively funky Berlin Has No Cows from Serafin. And even if sonic surprises are few, Loco Dice’s mix does maintain its mood throughout, which at the least does make this release pleasing to throw on as background music.

The casual consumer should still be cautious with this release though. Minimal hasn’t always been the friendliest of genres to dive into but at least the likes of Richie Hawtin have made it somewhat inviting. However, Loco Dice isn’t quite as interested in appealing to such folk. This are minimal set for minimal fans who like their beats unassuming and their melodies subtle puzzles.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved.

Hell - Teufelswerk (Original TC Review)

International Deejays Gigolo: 2009

(2016 Update:
An unforgivable, glaring omission in this review: I left out all the co-producers! No wonder those two tracks sound like throwback electro, it's Anthony Rother behind the sound deck with Hell. Of course CD2 has such a consistent vibe throughout, Peter Kruder (of he & Dorfmeister fame) lent his craft to the project as well. And whoa, Mijk van Dijk had a hand in the tech-haus tracks? I'd never have known without looking at the liner notes, these tunes some distance from the techno he made his name on in the '90s. Then again, if Hell could evolve, why not Mijk?

It's almost unfathomable that Teufelswerk remains ol' Helmut's last LP. Not that he was ever a prolific producer before, but seven years is quite the gap, with no sign it'll stop increasing, a smattering of singles all to his name in recent times. There were a couple remix albums released for this one, yet those were roughly four years after the fact. At this rate, we might see a 'cover' LP anytime now!)


IN BRIEF: Back in Hell.

I doubt DJ Hell (Helmut Geier to his elders) ever intended for his label - International Deejay Gigolo - to become the tastemaker of all things electroclash. Yet by releasing one classic record after the other, it trapped him in that genre, such that it was all folks expected of him, even though his musical career had spanned far more than sleazy electro. Still, perhaps it was a blessing disguised as a curse in the long run. As electroclash faded from clubbing tastes, so too did the impossible expectations on Mr. Geier; however, his prior success helped keep some degree of interest in his career. After all, he managed to burn a fresh trail into clubland before, and folks are always eager to see if someone can twice strike gold in this fickle business.

Well, Hell ain’t havin’ that. Having already carved out his place in the Electronic Music Hall-Of-Fame, he’s not terribly interested in being a trail-blazer again. Instead, Mr. Geier appears quite content in simply make dance music for the contemporary crowds with his own spin on the template. Yes, this means tech-haus music …er, as per his current definition of it. And since his former high-status in the scene has afforded him plenty of good-will, Hell decided to also get in touch with his indulgent side along the way.

The result of which is this here double-CD album: Teufelswerk. The Night half is primarily the tech-house trip, though with ample nods to electro-proper, New York clubbing, and robo-German fetishism sprinkled about. Day, on the hand, is a downtempo, experimental, ambient, etc. etc. trip through Hell’s muse. For now, let’s look at the Night disc.

Having not totally abandoned the electroclash, Hell brought in Roxy Music man Bryan Ferry for a little vocalizing on opener U Can Dance; however, this is mostly a solid tech-house groover that gets the album started in fine fashion. Right from the onset, you can tell there is more thought and consideration into what constitutes a good house track, as Hell doesn’t get bogged down in ‘minimal’ wankery, simply laying out his rhythms and letting the hooks weave about.

From there, it’s one solid tech-house cut after another. The robots take over in Electronic Germany and Bodyfarm² with sinister electro-tones and eerie atmospherics. There’s nods to the minimalistic takes on tech-house in Friday, Saturday, Sunday and The Disaster, which are fine for what they are, though not quite as thrilling as some of the other tracks here. Hellracer gets in touch with acid, and Wonderland dabbles in some Latin-tinged melodies.

Then, of course, is The DJ. It features Sean ‘P. Puff. Diddy-Daddy’ Combs blathering on about how DJs need to play full twenty-minute versions of house tracks, a not entirely daft suggestion. The backing track Hell provides for the monologue dips into the best vibes a sweaty New York club often suggests (whether it’s still true or not being irrelevant). This track has caused a bit of controversy for no other reason than it’s P.Diddy cussing on the monologue, but who really cares? I’m sure if the naysayers didn’t know it was Mr. Combs doing the talking, they’d enjoy it just as much as any ‘monologue-house’ tune.

If you’re going to ding Hell for anything on this disc, it can be for the fact that, ultimately, we’re not hearing anything remarkably fresh here. Not that this should come as a surprise – Hell wasn’t known as much of an innovator back in the 90s when he was still making house and techno, and now isn’t much different. Night is a competently made CD of tech-house that you’ll enjoy from start to finish, provided you fancy tech-house at all to begin with.

For the more adventurous out there, Day will definitely please. Right off, Hell channels the spirit of 70s synth composers for Germania, giving us a true ambient sonic delight with spritely melodies and trancey backing arpeggios. After that, it’s thirteen minutes of Angst, which moves from a chilled jazzy build to a second half consisting of noisy, abrasive glitches – mmm, more of the former, please.

There are a few sonic doodles and experiments scattered about the rest of Day but only three fully-formed tracks left; and even then, I Prefer Women To Men Anyway and Hell’s Kitchen are mostly about experimental soundscapes anyway. Nay, it’s on final track Silver Machine that we get a proper song again, with Hell doing one of those ‘indie-tronica’ ditties along with one Marsmobil on vocals. It’s a pleasant enough way to close out this often musically-wayward disc.

Across two CDs, Teufelswerk is hardly dull and certainly worth an investment. The only thing to be wary of is we are hearing a DJ Hell that is quite comfortable with his status in clubland, resulting in an album that prefers satisfying a personal muse rather than a general audience. The other thing too is, as a songwriter, Mr. Geier isn’t quite as strong as some of the more notable names in this field (Garnier, Craig, etc.) so those who fancy artistic indulgences might not be as impressed. Therefore, it may be wise to take Teufelswerk with a grain of salt.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2009. © All rights reserved.

Stephen J. Kroos - Tecktonick (Original TC Review)

Anjunabeats: 2007

(2016 Update:
See 2007 Sykonee. See 2007 Sykonee make ridiculous generalization about trance producers making breaks. Point at 2007 Sykonee. Laugh. Laugh at 2007 Sykonee. Ha ha ha. What a nob. I don't even recall what his problem was, a rant that comes totally out of nowhere. Laugh especially hard at the fact I actually like Oxygenation now. Maybe it's that new-found appreciation for McProg's more charming attributes, but Kroos does good in bringing the grumbly low-end/twinkly high-end style to the realms of broken beats. The nu-skool leaning Elecktronick can be left well behind though.

Kroos wasn't long for the world of trance, moving onto tech-house and prog shortly after this album, releasing several singles on Anjunadeep in the process. Eventually he left Anjuna', finding a new home on Spring Tube where he continues releasing music to this day. While keeping with the tech, he's also incorporated deep house and chilled IDM into his repertoire. So a fairly well-rounded career since dropping his debut, even if significantly diminished in scene presence since.)


IN BRIEF: Bringing the past to the present.

Expectations are a dangerous thing when it comes to music. While they may be different for everyone, if an artist doesn’t reach a previous peak (much less surpass it), their subsequent releases are often met with disappointment. And this tends to hold true not just with producers, but everything from DJs, compilation series, labels, and even whole genres.

This can work other ways too. The obvious is when your expectations are so low, to hear something that is surprisingly decent can skew an objective impression. More common is coming across a release that breaks the norm of what you are used to, and impressions are no less susceptible.

The ultra-melodic trance label Anjunabeats hasn’t been known for its diversity but they seem to be showing signs of moving beyond the clichés of late. Among the artists doing so for them is Stephen J. Kroos. The Dutchman’s been producing since the late 90s, having small success when his singles found homes on compilations like Mega Trance 1.0, Ibiza Club Trance, and The House Sound Of Dance Tuning Disco (?). A few years back, Anjunabeats took Kroos on, and turned heads by providing a sound much of the epic trance brigade were unfamiliar with.

Let’s make something clear though. Despite claims to the contrary, Kroos’ music isn't revolutionary. In fact, he’s merely doing the same thing as newer producers like Paul Moelands, Sander van Doorn, and the Discovery squad are: taking trance back to its roots. A time before the Corsten clones, the overblown breakdowns, the schmaltzy lyrics, and everything else that sent the genre into Punchline Land. I can see how kids who figure trance begins and ends with Armin van Buuren’s radio show would find Kroos’ material quite different from the norm. However, folks with Pre-Dutch Explosion knowledge will find his style familiar (I’ll spare you the synth-sample trainspotting).

And this is A-OK. Although often regarded as tech-trance these days, this is more-or-less how the genre sounded when it was showing great promise as savvy party music. It builds on layers, letting the rhythms drive and the melodies subtly tickle at your mind. It was effective in the mid-90s, and it remains effective to this day. If stuff like deep house and Detroit techno are able to get away with recycling winning formulas, why not trance of this nature too?

Anyhow, let’s get to the particulars of Kroos’ album Tecktonik.

After a bit of ambient noodling opens things up (of which several others crop up throughout as interludes between tracks), Stephen wastes no time in letting his audience know this isn’t a typical Anjunabeats release. 4 Your Taperecorder is a techy banger that has only one thought in mind: working the dancefloor. Fortunately, it works fine on the homefront as well, with catchy hooks and vocal samples keeping your attention. Follow-up Sadistick is something far more familiar with the Anjuna faithful. A standard prog-house excursion, Kroos does the style justice with suitable dark grooves and moody atmosphere. Less effective is Tony McGuinness’ lyrics: unnecessary fluff. Why is the Above & Beyond man even here? As one of the label heads, did he insist on having at least one vocal number on this album. Thankfully, it’s a one-off, and we’re right back into Kroos’ winning style soon after.

And nothing over-fancy here, folks. Just simple energetic trance. The rhythms pump, the melodies work, and the breakdowns never dawdle. Hell, Innerstatistick barely has any downtime at all, with a not-a-breakdown-at-all moment lasting less than thirty seconds; and merely used to introduce one of those oh-so vintage ominous sci-fi samples no less! Kroos’ offerings tug at nostalgic strings while keeping his sound firmly in the present. I’d say I’m about ready to be converted to the Cult Of Kroos.

But then he decides to take a stab at breaks. Oh dear...

My friends, there are many constants in the cosmos, one of which is trance producers seldom make good breaks. With most of their attention paid on atmosphere and melodies, they forget the one ingredient that makes breaks good: da funk. Kroos is no exception to the rule, with his offerings blander than white bread. Oxygenate isn’t that bad when he lets the effects direct the flow of the song, but Elecktronick is far too dependent on rhythm to carry it, and the track suffers as a result. And sadly, Tecktonick ends on a limp note. Frankly, the final ambient doodle Sphecktralizm would have been a great closer had Kroos explored the psy dub possibilities an extended version of it hints at. Instead, Formalistick is the main show, but doesn’t have much going for it as such. It’s a fine track to be used in DJ sets but remains musically limited, with a lead hook that ends far too soon; just as you’re warmed up to it, we’re already heading into our perfunctory rhythmic lead-out.

This by no means makes for a weak album though. While the second half of Tecktonick doesn’t quite match the first, there’s still enough here to warrant your attention. The ‘let-trance-do-what-it-do-best’ mentality to many of these cuts shows the ol’ girl still has some life after all, and Kroos’ production suggests a promising future for his career. Well, such that he won't have to worry about being on compilations with names like Veronica’s Mega Music Dance Experience again.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved

Moodymann - Technologystolemyvinyle (Original TC Review)

KDJ: 2007

(2016 Update:
At first glance, this shorty review looks way out of touch, writing off the vinyl market as a hopelessly niche scene while new technologies grew in dominance. It certainly seemed as such a decade ago, but here we are in the here and now, records seeing a commercial resurgence not enjoyed since... geez, the early '90s? Have folks returned to the ancient format, abandoning CDs and digital? Ah, not exactly. Those dedicated and romantic buyers I mentioned before? They exploded, especially within an emergent hipster culture where a younger, numerous generation were gulping down fat pitchers of the Black Crack Kool-Aid. It's not that the sort of collectors changed, just that there were a whole heck lot more of 'em now. It's actually caused something of a pressing shortage with big labels hogging all the factories with re-issues, making underground records like this one more difficult to produce with any decent frequency.

Hey, wait, I don't collect vinyl! How do I even have this? Yeah, um, back in my TranceCritic days, we didn't always have the most legit sources for material to review. Guess this MP3 did steal Moodymann's 'vinyle' after all.)


IN BRIEF: Just one, son?

Really, just how dead is vinyl? CDs managed to supplant records in households, and in recent years clubbing culture - the last bastion of vinyl supremacy - has seen laptops and CDJs take over. Pressing plants and record stores have been closing en masse. Ask any label about their decisions to reduce their vinyl output, and you’ll largely come away with cost efficiency factors. For all intents and purposes, the Black Crack should be barely clinging to life-support.

Yet like the Spirit of Sauron, it persists. And while many kids would chalk it up to the dedicated, the old-school, or the romantics sustaining it, fact remains vinyl will forever have a part in music consumption. There will always be dedicated, old-school romantics who are collectors of classic formats (although online stores such as Juno proves the market for club weapons remains steady as well). There’s far too many of them to write off vinyl’s sustainability, even if it has become more niche than ever.

Thus, when house producer Kenneth Dixon, Jr. releases a one-sided, single-song vinyl of this sort, it’s far from a tactical error. His brand of vintage funk-and-soul grooves is clearly aimed towards those who have warm nostalgic feelings of the past, and a release such as this is unapologetic in its skimpy offering. It’s a record for people who like to collect records, the digital domain be damned (hence the tongue-in-cheek title).

Of course, this wouldn’t matter much if the song was crap, but the Moodymann has long been counted upon to deliver the house-flavored goods when called upon. With Technologystolemyvinlye, he once again draws influence from 70s funk, bringing us a house track that is decidedly fresh in this era of electro abrasiveness. Essentially divided into two parts, the first half is where you’ll find the most dancefloor effectiveness; among big band samples, the rhythms chug along as organs, trumpets, and guitars provide sizzling soul. The latter half goes more jazzy, with the main instruments indulging in a little solo action: its fine enough but far more suited for lounging moments.

I highly doubt this one little record will suddenly convert hundreds of downloaders to vinyl. However, fans of house music will be missing out on a gem of a track if they dismiss Moodymann’s celebration of the past as nostalgic silliness. He may be stuck in the ‘70s, but funk and soul has seldom seen better times since.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved.

Laurent Garnier - Tales Of A Kleptomaniac (Original TC Review)

[PIAS] Recordings: 2009

(2016 Update:
You just had to make another dig at minimal, didn't you, 2009 Sykonee? Boy, does that quip ever date this review now - like, who gives a rat's poop about Luciano anymore? Meanwhile, Garnier's still here, doing his thing as he's always done, even releasing another album this past year. This reads a bit gushy to my current eyes, but its no less reverent than any number of fans and journo-folks who've put hundreds to thousands of words detailing the Frenchman's career and class.

Unfortunately for this album though, it hasn't gotten any easier of a listen as time's worn on. For all the care and skill Mr. Garnier put into these tracks, they create such an erratic listen with a traditional playthrough that it's difficult for anything to stick to the ol' memory membranes. Funny enough, Laurent mentioned shortly after releasing Tales Of A Kleptomaniac that he couldn't even stand listening to these tracks anymore, having spent so much time on them and all. Man, I know what that's like with some of my own writing, but I can definitely hear how some of this music's been micro-managed almost to a fault. Gotta' keep that muse fresh with new ideas, yo'.)


IN BRIEF: Does Garnier have anything left to prove?

No, don’t actually answer that rhetorical question; just ponder it for a moment. Then, once you’ve finished pondering, keep those thoughts to yourself. If you do that, then you might be able to dive into his new album, Tales Of A Kleptomaniac, without any of the ungodly expectations the Frenchman has become saddled with. Just accept the fact he likes to make music, and feel fortunate enough he’s successful enough to share that over-indulgent muse of his with you.

The simple fact of the matter is Garnier has established himself as the music-fan’s producer and DJ, thus has earned all the plaudits that comes with such respect; however, this also leaves his body of work incredibly daunting for the uninitiated, with very few clear-cut crossover singles to his name (The Man With The Red Face being the most obvious exception, especially recently). With a discography that is far from newbie-friendly, Garnier has been kept somewhat on the outskirts of top acts, even though he is a recognizable name. This new album isn’t likely to change that, which will probably suit his fanbse just fine. But, y’know, it’d be nice of him to, like, get the same kind of praise the Luciano Villalawtins of the world do, just once in a while, hm? Ah well.

So now that we’ve effectively frightened away the uninitiated, is there anything of interest for the Garnier connoisseur? You bet! In fact, there’s almost too much here. In being such a hoarder of musical styles, ol’ Laurent has assembled an incredibly eclectic collection of songs, such that I can’t see folks getting their vibe on to every track.

For instance, you may be totally down for more of his jazz-fusion techno-stomp, supplied here in the form of Gnanmankuodjii; but are you willing to go even deeper down the jazz tunnel, into an acid lounge with Garnier himself providing spoken dialogue in Dealing With The Man? Or perhaps you’re looking forward to some vintage dark trance vibes with Desirless that ol’ Laurent was known for way back in the day. That may sound good, but perhaps not the two hip-hop cuts - one with French lyrics, no less - if that isn’t your thing. Or maybe the thought of him doing dub reggae with Food For Thought makes you all giddy (*cough*); might you have the opposite reaction to Bourre Pif, a dabbling into drum’n’bass? Wait, what? That last one doesn’t make any sense. How could someone like one rhythm-heavy form of music but not another? Never mind that last one.

Getting back to the album, the point is there be a lot of musical variety on here, some of which may not be your cup of brie. However, it is all finely produced and enjoyable to those with at least a broad sense of taste -allow me to provide an example. Although I know it can be musical journalistic suicide to openly admit to not knowing much about a particular genre, I think you can all forgive me saying that I am quite clueless when it comes to French hip-hop - I've heard no more than half-a-dozen tunes in my life. Yet, despite not getting much out of Freeverse (Part 1) on an intellectual level, I still enjoy it on a ‘dumb’ level; that is, purely on what the music on hand offers. You get that sense of musical competence from Garnier on every cut here, and though you may not be compelled to suddenly start checking hundreds of French hip-hop acts out there, Garnier at least provides you with something that won’t have you quickly reaching for the skip button.

That said, there isn’t much on here that would convince one to check out these musical genres further either. Food For Thought is a great dub tune …for being on a Laurent Garnier album; fans of jazz-fusion, techno, and, yes, even French hip-hop would probably say similar things.

Tales Of A Kleptomaniac is another solid outing from Garnier, and the music’s far too good to give it anything lower than an 8. However, in allowing his muse to rob the kitchen of everything but the plumbing, it unfortunately lacks an elevating, crossover classic. The veteran Frenchman remains as daunting for the newbie as ever.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2009. © All rights reserved.

System 7 - System 7 (Original TC Review)

10 Records: 1991

(2015 Update:
I've still yet to take the plunge into System 7's full discography. Shame on me. There's no reason I shouldn't have by now, especially with so much online streaming available at my whim. Maybe that should be a New Year's resolution, to finally take in the entirety of Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy, and all their quarter-century of System 7ing. It's not like I expect some wild, unfortunate genre experiments along the way, the duo essentially sticking to their psychedelic trance, prog- rock jamborees through the years (decades!). If anything, their debut remains the least System 7y thing they ever System 7'd.

This review isn't as cynical as I remember, though why I had to get my hate on with the accordion, I don't recall. No wait, I was still feeding off the backlash of Samin's Heater, that's why. I suppose I couldn't help but let my Gen-X jadedness get the better of me too, snickering at such earnest lyrics. Funny how a few extra years of added wisdom has mellowed my stance on them now. That is wisdom I feel now, right? Maybe just gas.)


IN BRIEF: A prog rocker gets chummy with dance culture.

Probably the last name you’d expect to have a trendy club hit in this year of 2008 would be Steve Hillage’s System 7 project. Although he and Miquette Giraudy have long been respected figures within dance music, their tendency to skew towards the psychedelic side of the electronic spectrum hasn’t earned them the spotlight since that style’s mid-90s heyday. Yet along comes Mr. Minimal-Marmite-Man Dubfire with one of his remixes, and propels the latest System 7 single Song Bird high into some of the more hip dance charts out there.

Such seems to be the story of Hillage’s career. It isn’t so much you’d expect him to fade into obscurity, but for all intents and purposes one would assume his contemporary relevance should. After nearly two decades as a prog rock guitarist, Hillage discovered acid house when Alex Paterson of The Orb fame discovered him. System 7 is born soon afterwards, gained a plethora of fans amongst the early goa-trance scene, became a fixture at Glastonbury’s dance tent, and just when you’d think this project has slipped away into irrelevancy, it’s thrust once again into the presence of another generation of party-goers. Perhaps that hippie attitude has provided Hillage with plenty of good karma after-all. Where he goes from here is anyone’s guess, but even if this recent mini-thrust back into the spotlight is to be his last, Hillage has done plenty in his career to deserve such good will.

Really, I don’t think anyone would have expected Hillage to be a fixture within dance music culture for so long given the rather unique plunge System 7 first took. This self-titled 1991 debut is a strange relic of its time, where scene networking could yield powerhouse collaborations of the sort found on here. Along with Dr. Paterson, you have Hillage working with techno-don Derrick May, at-the-time ace-producer Paul Oakenfold, Steve Waddington of The Beloved fame (remember them?), and Martin Glover (Youth) just on this album alone (the System 7 moniker would go on to include work with Laurent Garnier, Juno Reactor, Carl Craig, Greg Hunter, Drum Club, and recently Jam el Mar and Eat Static - whew, but is this ever a namedrop session). Yet, because System 7's concept was more about Hillage’s forays into dance music, the idea of this being some kind of electronic music supergroup was never really considered.

Nowadays, this album has mostly faded from the collective clubbing consciousness for various reasons. For one thing, it remains the only album that hasn’t been re-issued on Hillage’s new A-Wave label, although legal complications with the distributors - UK-based Ten and American-based Caroline (whom had to change the group’s name to 777 over other legal complications) - may have something to do with that. Primarily, though, it tends to be neglected since it bears little resemblance to the sort of music the project would go on to be known for.

And just what kind of music is on here? If you’re familiar with Stereo MC’s, that’ll give you a starting point, because another thing that easily dates System 7 to the early 90s is the incredibly liberal melting pot of genres on offer. There’s house, techno, ambient, soul, breaks, prog, pop, and even hints of psychedelia. With so many different influences contributing, there was no possible way a cohesive style would dominate throughout. Heck, where does one even start when describing what these songs sound like? How about the material that isn’t dated?

The Derrick May pairings easily sound fresh even today. Thumping techno cut Altitude remains superb, with Listen and ambient-intermission Fractal Liason finding the Detroit native’s futuristic touch working wonders with Hillage’s spacey guitar work; any of these offerings could hold their own in a modern-day set. Meanwhile, Alex Paterson’s ambient house specialty can be felt on Sunburst, along with his studio wizardry in Dog, coda-like follow-up Thunderdog, and the straight-forward club-cut Miracle (where Oakenfold lends his talents as well). The production on these is quite remarkable too, where it seldom feels like you’re being fed simple dance loops. There be practiced musicians in them studios, my friends, with arrangements that make ample use of their experienced song-writing skills.

On the other hand, the vocal songs are way early 90s. Whether it be Aniff Cousins’ contemplative raps (think a proto-Maxi Jazz) or Olu Rowe’s soulful singing, their themes remain constant. Freedom Fighters, Habibi, Bon Humeur, Dog, and Strange Quotations all feature lyrics that feed off the “good times are coming” attitude that was prevalent in much of the Western world following the collapse of the Soviet Union. All fine and well, I suppose; you certainly have to admire the optimism. However - and this may just be a generational gap thing - some of the messages delivered in these songs strike me as New-Agey Boomer platitudes, something that was quite common in adult pop music of the time. Looking back on it now with the benefit (detriment?) of cynical Gen-X hindsight, one can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that all the hope of social and political change of that time never gained much traction. Musically these songs are fine (well, aside from that accordion in Strange Quotations), but whether you enjoy the lyrics or not will probably boil down to personal preference. Interestingly, vocals were seldom utilized by System 7 after this release.

Anyhow, fast-forwarding back to 2008, System 7 is certainly a product of its time, and frankly has a difficult time holding up. It’s seldom mentioned when talk of early 90s releases is taking place, and despite the strong musicianship on display, remains lacking in anything one could identify as ‘classic.’ If you’re in the market for electronic music from that era, you’ll find definite worth in this album. However, for those instead just looking to get acquainted with System 7's discography, the Point 3 releases are a better starting point.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved

Paul Oakenfold - Swordfish: The Album (Original TC Review)

London-Sire Records: 2001

(2015 Update:
Did anyone get the parody in this review? My extended riff on the only good part about the movie, John Travolta's opening monologue regarding Hollywood's lack of realism? Guess you'd have to hear it in the first place, which I doubt many reading this ever did. Well, here's a good ol' linky to it on YouTube for you to get your kicks in. Now you can read this old review as intended, as envisioned, as ordained.

This was a fun one to write, especially coming off that horrendous album of 'original' material Oakenfold had released the same year. It's held up much better too, at least in that vintage turn-o'-the-millennium prog-trance stylee folks continue reminiscing over. I'd make a quip about the same being untrue for the movie, but I still haven't seen it, and probably never will. The version of Swordfish playing in my head based on the few clues given by the music here is almost certainly leagues better than anything committed to film.)


IN BRIEF: Better than remembered.

The year 2001. Such a memorable year, wasn’t it? No, I’m not referring to that incident; I mean before then. A time when we felt complacent and self-assured about things. A time when we still felt the buzz of the 90s, the silly Y2K superstitions having blown away with the wind. A time when young loves and romantic rendezvous was heartfelt and genuine (well, in my neck of the woods).

The year 2001. Remember how great electronic music was then? When electroclash was new and exciting? How house music was at glorious heights courtesy of the French? How NRG was dying off (well, I celebrated)? When seeing the name Oakenfold in production credits still equaled class?

Oh, yes, my newbie readers. Even if folks were divided on the merits of his DJing in those days, few disputed Paul’s worth as a producer, his track record throughout the '90s impeccable. Despite never actually spearheading any genre, whatever style he jumped on could be counted on as a worthy addition to the movement.

So, does anyone remember the buzz surrounding his involvement with the soundtrack to Hollywood’s faux-hacker thriller Swordfish? I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t, as it was buried under the other hype going into the movie: John Travolta doing the post-modern villain thing; Halle Berry showing nipples for an outlandish fee; Joel Silver, still flashing ‘bankable’ from The Matrix, being promoted as the hot producer for the flick. Yeah, Paul’s involvement probably didn’t register much in the minds of the movie biz faithful.

But, oh, did it matter in clubland. As far as many were concerned, this was the closest thing to a solo Oakenfold album yet (his work with Grace is often regarded as a collaborative effort), and his huge fanbase was eagre to check out the results.

Right, right. Swordfish isn’t exactly all Oakenfold. Three tracks don’t have his imprint on it, and one isn’t even from his label (the Lemon Jelly song, which unsurprisingly sounds the most unique amongst the others). Everything else, though, finds Paul getting his fingers in. Whether as producer, remixer, or collaborator, the Oakenfold (and Andy Gray, heh) touch is felt. Although you can definitely hear how these tracks would work in the movie itself, their worth isn’t hindered if you haven’t seen it (er, like me). Between clear-cut songs (Jan Johnston’s Unafraid; N*E*R*D’s Lapdance; the Planet Rock remix), trancey Perfecto cuts (Dark Machine; Muse’s New Born; Patient Saints’ On Your Mind), and obvious made-for-movie moments (Speed; Password), every one of them holds enough musical strength to keep your attention.

Holding everything together, and raising the bar on this release, is the maintained theme. While most soundtracks of this nature grab a collection of random, if not similar sounding tunes and hope for the best, Swordfish’s keeps the moody techno-trance tone intact for the duration. Even if the BPMs vary by ten or twenty, it flows naturally from song to song. This is arguably the most consistent soundtrack I’ve heard, short of orchestral and true solo works of course.

Unfortunately, Paul’s work here was doomed to soundtrack tie-in failure. There were no clear-cut singles to promote it and no big anthems tearing up the clubs from it. The final nail in the coffin was Swordfish’s own lackluster performance at the theater. Without a sizable audience eagre to hear the music associated with the flick, the soundtrack’s sales were paltry. Oakenfold’s ‘debut’ project was quickly forgotten with an unremarkable whimper, his attention now focused on a proper artist album. So endeth the Swordfish saga.

But what if - now this is the tricky part - what if folks looked past the theatrical tie-in. No movie, no hype: just treat it as a concept album, a collaborative effort with Paul’s ideas leading the charge. Lock, stock. Still no good? C’mon. How much Hollywood marketing thrown out the window would it take for the fans to reverse their stance on this soundtrack’s worthiness? And this is early 2001! There’s still optimism, still a lack of cynicism, and Paul’s star, Paul’s star is still shining!

Now, fast forward to today; diff’rent time, diff’rent place. How quickly we are to mock Oakenfold and slam anything he does in a matter of hours. An, an easily laughed at story, from Swordfish to Lively Mind. A sell-out stumble. Again, again. Relentless. Trip, splat. One after the other. All displayed on the ‘net: downloaded, compressed, mocked, and ridiculed; you can practically see the ship sinking. And all for what? A mansion, a plane? A couple million pounds of blow to shoot straight up the nose?

As easy as it is to point to Swordfish’s failure as the beginning of Oakenfold’s end, looking at just the music itself reveals some actual thought and consideration going into this. Treated as a collection of moody, trancey tunes, there’s some decent material to be had. And, no matter what you may think of Oakenfold these days, Swordfish is at least worth a pick-up should you ever spot it in a bargain bin along with the DVD, as some of these cuts don’t deserve to be lost with bungled Hollywood hype.

Well, just a thought.

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

Swayzak - Some Other Country (Original TC Review)

Studio !K7: 2007

(2015 Update:
This was the last album Swayzak produced while signed to Studio !K7. They put out another LP a couple years after, Re: Serieculture on the short-lived Japanese label Timothy Really (?), then split a short while later. David Brown carries the name now, producing techno as s_w_z_k, while James Taylor releases experimental material as Lugano Fell. Both are alright, I suppose, but clearly their best days are well behind, when they led the fashionable minimal dub surge at the turn of the millennium. Still, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if they reunited for a mini-tour. It's what all semi-popular club acts do eventually.

Obviously, their splitting turns this review totally dated, assuming the Swayzak story would have many more years. Instead, it now comes off as a last gasp attempt to stay relevant in an increasingly crowded field of minimal tech-dub house whatevers. Some Other Country has held up decently enough for the time, Swayzak already pretty darn skill at this sound when everyone else was rushing into have their piece. If it didn't interest you before though, I'd check out their earlier albums before this one.)


IN BRIEF: In the groove.

There seems to be two journalistic camps when it comes to Swayzak: either you’ve been a dedicated chronicler of their decade-long career, or you only come across them whenever an album or single happens upon your desk. It’s created an odd assortment of reviews of their material over the years, where some will cast a spotlight upon the duo as though they have just as much star power as The Chemical Brothers, while others give them a bemused warming for their ‘just quirky enough’ brand of chilled grooves. Similarly, the old faithful are still waiting for Swayzak to come correct on their potential promise, while the opposite end of the spectrum are quite intrigued by their sonic tricks. Granted, this could be said for any number of acts, but Swayzak is indeed one of those duos that could have made it as big as, say, AIR, had things been ever so slightly different.

I suppose yours truly falls somewhere in the middle of these two outlooks when it comes to the UK duo; casual fans are like that. Unsurprisingly then, my thoughts regarding their new album Some Other Country does too. I write it as I hear it: this is a solid offering that keeps the Swayzakian ship steady on course, despite an apparent lack of care regarding a destination. They seem to have had their fill of stylistic exploration and are quite content to concentrate on song writing rather than experimentation.

This isn’t to say the album is devoid of variation. Swayzak willfully jump genres with cool confidence befit of a veteran duo with their talent. Techno, dub, minimal, and even malian influences all make appearances but are seldom the driving force behind what you hear. Rather, you get the sense they had a certain song they wanted to make, then decided to add a twist to it after the blueprint was laid out to give it a little more personality. And it certainly works in that regard.

For instance, opener Quiet Life has all the requisite trappings of a blissy slice of mellow minimal house: atmospheric synths, breezy vocals from Cassy Britton, and clicky backings. All fairly standard pieces as far as this sound is concerned, yet Swayzak add just a touch of uniqueness to the song that saves it from quickly fading from your memory - in this case, an odd lifeless voice stating the title which is in stark contrast to Britton’s own lyrics.

Another example? How about second track So Cheap? I’ve a feeling Swayzak had a discussion going something like this when making it:

James: “I say, David m’chap, this is a right pretty minimal track here, but it’s missing just a bit of something else. Fancy any ideas?”
David: “Hmm... well, I had this really crazy one. I don’t know if we should do it though.”
James: “Why, what is it?”
David: “James m’boy, it’s unlike anything those mainlanders in Berlin are doing. It’ll fly in their good ol’ faces.”
James: “Blimey, I’m sold! Do tell!”
David: “I fancied throwing in an actual... melody, y’know? Oh, we’ll still do some nifty minimal effects and all that rot, but let a melody carry it for good portions too.”
James: “Oh my... Who puts melody into minimal these days? It’s just unheard of.”
David: “I know, m’boy, I know. Fak it, let’s do anyway. Might go well somewhere before that Afro-jazz thingy we got going in Claktronic.”

Heh, okay, probably not, bad English accent and all.

Still, there are other examples of the duo throwing interesting twists to what would otherwise be pretty standard tunes in the hands of others. A confounding time signature in the proto-trancey Distress And Calling; having a tragic euro-artiste styled vocal provided by indie rockers Les Fauves on top of moody slice of brooding techno (Silent Luv); big bouncy bright synths at the tail end of gripping spacey dub in They Return.

Even when they play things straighter, Swayzak craft some decidedly moving tunes. No Sad Goodbyes featuring recurring guest vocalist Richard Davis is just as stirring as anything they’ve collaborated with in the past (“Taking us back to the dark street littered with good intentions...” Lovely lyrics!).

Some Other Country isn’t the dynamic release long time fans have been wistfully waiting for, as many of Swayzak’s tricks will undoubtedly be over familiar with them at this point in their career. However, despite being executed in such a low-key manner, this is still a reasonably enjoyable album. If anything, each track offers just enough interest to keep your attention as it plays through, a feat that is unfortunately rare when it comes to electronic full-lengths.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved

Sander van Doorn - Supernaturalistic (Original TC Review)

Ultra Records: 2008

(2015 Update:
Some credit must be given here, as Sander did embark on a different path from what everyone else was doing in trance at the time. It was still mostly rubbish, and had too many copy-cats following in step within the year, but that 'Dutch minimal' sound of his was unique, even if it was only a passing fad. As with so many of his Netherlands brethren however, ol' Doorn's become the copy-cat rather than the innovator, his recent productions mere Garrix clones with a bit of that classic Doorn bass thrown in. Predictably, his stock on the DJ Mag poll - the only important poll for Dutch DJs - has plummeted. Maybe he'll get back to his tech-trance roots now? Oh, who are we kidding, he'd totally torpedo his festival time slots if he stopped catering-

This album, then.

Riff's still a dope track, but so much of this is just a big ol' nothing of music, more so now since I can't imagine anyone playing anything off here except Doorn himself. The whole 'minimal' tangent in Dutch trance never had much success to begin with, producers quick to hop on whatever new bandwagon they could hitch themselves onto. So it goes.)


IN BRIEF: Much ado...

Lately it feels like trance producers labeled as “the future/saviors” of the genre have become a dime-a-dozen; nearly any name with some status or string of minor hits has been branded as such in recent years. Yet when Sander van Doorn broke out of nowhere a few years back, his tough tech-trance productions and energetic DJ sets hinted at the possibility that perhaps someone would finally live up to that hype. Then he released Grasshopper, and everything changed. It appeared the Dutchman had hopped on the minimal bandwagon, resulting in a plodding effects-laden wankfest of techno that split much of his fanbase. Some were looking forward to seeing where he might go with the sound, while others hoped it was just a one-off experiment. Later singles Riff and By Any Demand hinted at the former as 2007 wore on.

A year now from that polarizing single, Doorn has come forth with his debut full-length titled Supernaturalistic. It arrived with very little initial fanfare back in early March but has since gained steam thanks to the hard work of PR teams pushing it in order to maintain his star-status. However, the actual listeners remain divided as ever, as the Dutchman’s new direction appears to dominate much of the album. For make no mistake about it - musically, this is about as bare-bones as dance music gets. Doorn seems to have settled on this basic formula: introduce thumping beats, establish a simple hook, break it down and build it up with waves upon waves of effects, hit the peak, and then-

Oh, hey, that was fun. Let’s move on.

Is it really fair to criticize Doorn for being formulaic? Dance music in of itself is formulaic; I may as well complain about oranges being the color orange. Frankly, you can do plenty with formula, and even if he doesn’t stray far from it, Sander seems intent upon trying a few different things within his narrow arrangements. By Any Demand’s funky guitar lick, for instance, is certainly an attention grabber, and as a follow-up to the pounding opener-proper Riff, hints at something fresh and fun. Of course, this being the New Sander, once the breakdown/build passes and the beats drop in on us, the track-

Moving on.

From here, the musical ideas retreat further and further, as Doorn lets his techno influences dominate. There are sprinklings of trancey melodies here and there, but for the most part are held in submission. This wouldn’t be so bad if for one problem: for all the perceived dark, tough, and threatening tones Doorn supplies, the general atmosphere of Supernaturalistic falls well short of truly ominous techy vibes. It’s about as menacing as James Dean -as played by a cigarette-smoking chimpanzee (especially when compared to the 800-pound cyborg gorilla that is L.S.G.’s The Black Album, even a decade on). And when all these tracks end on such limp notes as they do after big builds filled with effects, you begin to wonder-

It’s those minimal influences.

Yeah, minimal’s aesthetic has pretty much worked its way into everything. That style, however, is built around subtlety, nuance, and status-quo. A typical minimal track seldom goes anywhere, far more content to cruise along and play with effects or atmosphere than take you on a musical journey. Sander, it would seem, wants to have his cake and eat it too; he wants to join the minimal bandwagon but is still intent on producing stadium-sized tracks. As a result, you have stuff like Grasshopper, The Bass, and Dozer, where the dooft-dooft-dooft beats pack massive punch, the effect-builds are epic, yet there is little release after it all goes down. It’s like Doorn’s trying to make concert-sized anthems out of minimal. Heh, leave it to the Dutch-

I heard some of you enjoy good hooks.

The strongest melodies are found in a couple of tracks that are little more than interludes (Lobby; Outrospective), and aren’t really worth getting into since Doorn doesn’t seem interested in going anywhere with them. However, when he’s not dickering around with effect-builds that amount to nothing, Doorn does come correct with stuff that’ll get right in your head. The riffs found in Apple and, er, Riff are great, such that they have power even when Sander somewhat scales things back in the second half of them. And many of the other offerings on Supernaturalistic contain strong opening ingredients before they are squandered afterwards. If anything, a capable DJ could use nearly any track here as an effective tension builder in their sets, provided they drop a track with some proper direction right afterwards. In that sense, though, it makes much of this album little more than glorified-

Frustrating, isn’t it.

Supernaturalistic is a lot of squandered potential. As the album wears on, the teases grow tiresome and the lack of decent dance-music release annoys. It’s fine for a few tracks but why would anyone want to sit through an hour of it is beyond me. There’s a ‘hidden’ recording tagged onto Outrospective, of the wrap-up a gig Doorn played at, and it pretty much sums up Sander’s debut: slight variations of the same thing over and over (“The Wet Bar is now closed; get out!”; “Thank you for coming, now get out!” “If you want an autograph, get in line; otherwise, get out!”), a few moments that’ll entertain (“Don’t bum-rush the stage!” - I have to admit the picture of a bunch of scuzzy, impoverished-looking clubbers rushing the stage as though Sander has food-coupons makes me giggle), maybe hinting it’s leading to a winning payoff, but ultimately amounting to nothing of consequence.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved

Phutureprimitive - Sub Conscious (Original TC Review)

Waveform Records: 2004

(2015 Update:
I get it. Really, I do. It's not as drastic a change as some made it out. The music on here, with all those rubbery time-signatures, it has kindred spirit with wobbly basslines and all that. Plus, it's not like Rain couldn't help himself, what with having roots in the Pacific Northwest, where the likes of Excision's Rottun Recordings have come to dominate the festival circuit Phutureprimitive toured about on. Maybe he heard plenty enough from those big stages all the younger bassheads were congregating at, where he could get a piece of that lucrative pie. Or maybe throw a few shockers in the face of die-hard psy dub hippies. Ain't nothing wrong with that. Still... dubstep? Really, dubstep!?

This review does a very poor job detailing just how unique sounding Sub Conscious is, especially since no one's repeated what's one here - difficult detailing music without other frames of reference, after all. That includes Rain himself, most of his latest offerings content recycling sounds found in every main stage dub/brostep act. We thought he'd return to this style some day, but seeing as how he's almost gone full-Skrillex now, we'll just have to settle for this one excellent album of a bygone era instead.)


IN BRIEF: Music of the future and past.

Well, it’s been a while since we dipped into these waters, eh? Shpongle’s swan song from two summers ago [2015 Edit: LOL, ‘swan song’] was the last time we reviewed anything in the warm, bubbly realms of psychedelic dub music, which is a shame given just how wonderfully diverse this music can be. Unfortunately, with so many styles of electronic music demanding our attention, fringy forms tend to get overlooked in the process.

However, I wouldn’t deem psy dub as fringe as, say, drone ambient. In fact, this form of chill music has settled into a nice little niche. Filling in for the lengthy noodly ambient productions the likes of The Orb and The Irresistible Force used to make, this is the music often heard at underground and outdoor parties attended by raving refugees. It doesn’t have the accessibility of MOR chill fodder, but nor is it so impenetrable that it’ll chase away the curious.

Hailing from America’s Northwest, the man simply known as Rain has been a part of this scene for over a decade, although kept a relatively low profile. Toiling away in his own studio, he eventually emerged with this album: Sub Conscious. Here, under the pseudonym Phutureprimitive, we find a fusion of downtempo vibes common in many underground scenes. Ethnic soundscapes, psychedelic synths, and dubby atmospherics are all melded, with neither attribute dominating the direction of a song.

While you won’t find any specific leads, Rain’s music doesn’t dawdle on go-nowhere tangents either. Rather, minor melodies and drum patterns flow from segment to segment within a track itself, maintaining an overlying theme throughout. And although the general tone of Sub Conscious tends to remain dark, tribal, and melancholic, it isn’t without its bright spots as well.

Probably the most intriguing aspect of Rain’s productions is his time-signatures. I’m no expert on this subject, but I can definitely tell when a song seems ‘off’ when compared to traditional 4/4 rhythms. And most of what you hear on Sub Conscious contains such moments where you’ll mutter to yourself, “Now that’s kind of odd.” It’s one of those nifty little subtle things that causes you to take notice of what’s actually going on in a song rather than just hang back waiting for a catchy melody or calming pad to emerge. And while these tracks aren’t super-dense so there’s a million-and-one things to discover with dutiful attention, there certainly are plenty of interesting bits to chew on during the course of a song’s playing time.

With the general information out of the way, how’s about some particulars then? That, I’m afraid, can be a bit tricky in this case.

As mentioned, the songs on this album aren’t conventional. Opener Rites Of Passage is as clear an indication of the sorts of arrangements you’ll mostly encounter. Groovy rhythms start out, sounding neither strictly organic nor synthetic, with subtle, similar effects floating in the background. Eventually, a simple, dark sweeping synth gives us our first clear melody, with additional ones bubbling in the background. Then, we move onto some tribal chants; then, a stuttery synth; then, a new stuttery synth, this time building in prominence; then, a different rhythmic section (including a different time-signature, if you’re keeping tabs on minute details like that); then, new chants; finally, orchestral swells. All the while, previous elements bubble up, maintaining a cohesive theme throughout. Skillfully, each new section feels like a proper transition from prior ones, and never sounds like self-indulgence or useless attention-grabbers. And none of these various sounds, synths and effects outshine the other, each of them finely tuned to harmonize on the same wavelength as the next.

Like this opener, many of these songs progress naturally rather than take unnecessary tangents, usually starting from a few basic ideas, then gradually building upon them to a logical conclusion. If this sounds too structured, trust me it does not come across this way, again thanks to Rain’s use of time-signatures. It lends itself an unpredictable atmosphere to the proceedings, and should the opening rhythms and minor melodies snare you, you’ll stick with it to see where the song will lead next.

Rites Of Passage throws most of Rain’s sonic ideas together; the rest of the tracks tend to stick to more singular themes while maintaining his eclectic production. Darkness and Elysium rely mostly on ethereal textures, including flowing female voices rather than tribal chants (all original, no sampling). Follow-up Ritual goes darker, conjuring up ancient tribal temple gatherings in Latin America. (Note: I could complain about some of these titles, as they are annoyingly cliché, but that’s not terribly important)

Adding some variety to these ethno-psy-dub proceedings is Spanish Fly, making use of flamenco guitars and percussion. Additionally, the song completely changes pace mid-way through, settling into a much slower rhythm than at the start. At first I thought it was just a breakdown of sorts, but was quite surprised to hear it to the end.

The rest of the album thematically carries on in similar fashion as the first half, with the eclecticism between tracks always fresh and never overcooked. At times the percussion gets more tribal (especially in Drifting) but will be naturally followed up with easy-going dubbed-out grooves (especially in Submerge). In one of the few instances of predictability on Sub Conscious, closer Dissolve is a straight ambient track, although still contains Rain’s intriguing style on it.

So, does all this talk of diverse arrangements and nifty sound collages and somber melodies make you want to rush out and buy this release? If no, I can guess why: you’re wondering where all the catchy hooks are.

Frankly, as with many forms of psy-dub, catchy bits aren’t the focus. Despite some really good minor melodies, there aren’t any that repeat long enough to get firmly stuck in your head, much less be humming later in the day. Add to the fact 4/4 rhythms are nonexistent and you have an album a casual listener is going to have trouble getting into. Rain’s production may be clear and concise, but it is still unconventional, especially in electronic music circles.

However, if what you desire in your music is uniqueness and deep engagement, then Sub Conscious should be on your Wantlist. Even if the idea of ‘ethno-psy-dub’ strikes you as bizarre, the music on this release will satisfy nonetheless.

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

Armin van Buuren - A State Of Trance 2006 (Original TC Review)

Ultra Records: 2006

(2015 Update:
My friends, this review is awful! ...is what you want me to say, right? I won't deny this is one tedious slog, taking forever to get to any point and forcing the reader to wade through waves of bile to do so. This thing is seventeen-hundred words long, with maybe two or three paragraphs of a clear point being made throughout. Hell, I spent the opening three-hundred words building to a lame joke about the cover. Who has time to read that? Certainly no one in this day and age. And there's so much more that's just cringe worthy to read now: still doing track-by-track in some instances, rambling on about inconsequential details, and what the Hell was I going on about with constant reference to 'Glory Years'? I just listened to a DJ mix that sounds much closer to Millennial trance than this one, A State Of Trance 2004. This sounds nothing like that.

I was tempted to do a full Update review, as I've plenty fresh things to say about this mix, but that'd be cheating my ironclad rules. Besides, do I really need to spend any more words on A State Of Trance 2006? I mean, just look at this review! It's a bitter, bloated beast, ornery and cranky for reasons I can't recall now, beyond my utter frustration with Armin's scene in general. All that hype, all that marketing, all that product and good intentions. All that waste of my time.)


IN BRIEF: Still living the Glory Years.

Armin van Buuren’s always been the guy who remains cheerfully optimistic in the face of adversity, and it clearly shows in his approach to music. His brand of uplifting trance is known to rock many a club night while putting sincere smiles on all those who hear it, equally enjoying the soaring melodies while Armin exuberantly lays down the anthems behind the decks.

But one has to wonder whether Armin is growing tired of his role as cheerleader for the epic trance brigade. After all, nearly every other DJ that helped build the style into the dominating party music that it was at the turn of the century has begun to move on to other pastures, leaving Armin to carry on in their stead. He’s certainly made ample use of being given the spotlight, as his star rose to the elites of popular trance DJs while promoting his A State Of Trance internet radio show as the premier source for new uplifting tunes. However, being stuck in that typecast has left him at a standstill for the last few years.

His artist album Shivers from last year saw him attempt to break that mold by creating songs outside the trance template. A worthy idea, but the results were uninspiring to casual happeners and met with annoyance from his hardline trance fans. Still, Armin knows if he wants to be held in higher regard outside his core niche, he’s going to have to step up his game. So, no more Mr. Happy Exuberant Nice Guy. With the grim determination of a DJ on a mission to bring trance back to its nostalgic highs, Armin presents to us the latest collection of the best trance music his radio show has to offer.

Well, one theory for the awful cover image at least.

Anyhow, here we are with Armin’s latest edition of his annual A State Of Trance series. As usual, there are plenty of complaints from listeners of his radio show that there are too many tracks which have been played to death. I’m still befuddled by this complaint; unless you are an extreme Armin fanboy that has got to have everything Armin puts out, this release really isn’t for the dedicated radio listener. Rather, the aim here is simple: compile the standouts from the program for those who don’t listen to it much (or, like me, at all), thus giving Armin the necessary promotion in places that are not the interweb - namely, music stores where money can be made. Fortunately for the non-radio listener and non-downloader, there are plenty of new, exclusive, unreleased tracks to be had in this edition, so if fresh material is what you’re after, you’ll get some bang for your buck.

Following similar themes set by previous editions, 2006 divides the selection of tunes between two different types of sets. Last year, Armin didn’t know if his audience would get the idea, so he gave the discs idiot-proof titles of Light and Dark. He seems to show a little more faith in his fans this year though, going for the slightly more descriptive titles At The Beach and In The Club. Since it’s the first disc here, let us start with the beachy music.

And Mike Foyle’s Shipwrecked is as fine an opener for such a theme as any. Pleasant piano melodies, seaside sound effects, and warm pads make up the bulk, with simple rhythms keeping the pace on easy cruise control. This is quite the blissy offering, easily putting me into a trancey, tranquil sense of waterfront calm.

...Only to be promptly taken out of it by the questionable guitar work in White Sand. I can kind of hear what DJ Shah was shooting for with this track, that of a loungey Mediterranean mood. Unfortunately it comes across as mere noodly finger plucking, without any kind of proper attention paid to stringing together a cohesive harmony. It’s like a poor-man’s Michael Brook with a dance beat.

We quickly leave these seaside tunes though, entering a stretch of moody vocal prog numbers, each followed by a charming instrumental to complement them. These are all quite nice to listen to, keeping the mood on a gradual climb with each track sounding unique from the previous without losing that all important flow. Although the tracks never quite lift beyond a few minor emotional peaks (most notably Junkie XL’s remix of Niyaz’ Dilruba and the Whiteroom remix of Zirenz’ Edge Of Space), they are effective in drawing you into a pleasant trance. It’s just as nice as background music as it is something you can absorb yourself into.

Once Jody Wisternoff’s Cold Drink, Hot Girl changes the general tone of this mix to something a little more groovey, Armin sees fit to gently ease us out of our blissy tenure with the ethereal setting of One With Sanctuary from Incolumis. No apparent hook to be had with this track; just gentle pad work with appropriate rhythms. Definitely a nice capper to this pleasant little disc.

Ack, but Armin decides to keep going. I’ve complained about him throwing on additional tracks at the end of a set when the lead-up to it suggests he’s wrapping up, just because it comes off as milking a CD’s length for all its worth even if you’ve said all that needs to be said. Still, his choice of add-ons isn’t too bad this time out. Even if Envio’s For You has the unfortunate distinction of being ‘one track too many’, it’s a decent track regardless.

Overall though, At The Beach certainly manages to create the atmosphere Armin’s title shoots for. Although a couple tracks feel out of place (I suspect the Karen Overton one may just be PR plugging, but that’s a rant for another review), none of them really detract from the overall tone set-up by Shipwrecked and, more or less, is brought to its natural conclusion at the end. It’s not a revolutionary mix, but works within its confines and should make for a nice summer soundtrack.

As for the second disc...

Shit...

My friends, this is awful!

Damned near every single fucking song does the exact same thing! I just need to provide a link to Fable’s Above for a description (2015 Edit: whoops, that link no longer exists!), and let that repeat itself. If you’re too lazy to actually click the link, here’s the gist of how it goes from start to finish: intro and outro beats matched; minor melody; breakdown, build, soaring uplifting melody, jump in the air with your fist pumping, supposedly cheering Armin on for selecting the ‘choon’; repeat. That’s it. The repetitive redundancy this disc contains isn’t that far removed from that found in hardstyle mixes. The energy is completely flatlined from the get-go, at no point ever seeming to lead anywhere other than just one breakdown after the other, and the predictability of it gets old fast. Were I to implement my Patent Pending Trance Drinking Game to this disc, I’d leave with a very tortured liver.

It’s not that all the individual songs on display here are bad examples of epic trance; put into a better set with more room to stand out, any one of them would probably be good peak time moments. However, Armin’s arrangement and mixing is so utterly bland, the tracks never get a chance to show any kind of personality, which is a far cry from the flavour to be had in the first disc. The beats are simply aligned, the keys properly matched, and that’s it. A robot could do the same job. Say, maybe that’s what gives with the blank look in Armin’s face on the cover: he’s been replaced by an android!

There are a couple points where this mix seems to break the mold, however slightly, but not always for the better. Highlights include: the better than average melody in DJ Governor’s Red Woods; some quirky synthy delights to be found in Stoneface & Terminal’s Venus; the SUPREMEsaw synths of Thomas Bronzwaer’s Shadow World (though that just may be familiarity sparking my interest, since I’ve already heard it on Phynn’s recent DJ mix for the In Trance We Trust series). Lowlights include: both Kyau vs. Albert tracks, who’s blend of bland adult contemporary songwriting with trance beats seems to kill just about every show of momentum; Armin’s own laughable Sail.

Actually, since he gives his own new anthem the spotlight at the end, I may as well give it the review spotlight as well. It’s as though Armin, still trying to create that one classic that will be played forever and ever, took a look at every single major hit in the past and fused them all together. The melody is super-stupidly simple, pretty much hitting single notes on every beat and played with just about every kind of sound you’ve heard in epic trance. You get bleepy synths that made PPK’s ResuRection the smash it was; you get plinky pianos that made Children the hit it was; happy-go-lucky rhythms which are vintage Ferry Corsten; and, of course supersaw breakdowns, sure to bring back Rank 1 memories. And that’s just the first fucking half! I’ll admit I have a soft spot for the voice pads, but Armin kills it with a horribly distorted synth sound in a second breakdown, which reminds me of Tiësto’s take on Adagio For Strings in sound, and The fucking Launch in ‘melody’, of all damned things. To complete the idiocy of trance clichés, he brings in stuttery supersaws alongside the distorted synth once the beat returns. What is this, epic trance meets hardstyle? Christ... Either this is meant to be a ‘tribute’ to the Glory Years of epic trance that totally missed the mark, or a very, very sick joke.

I honestly don’t know how anyone can take Armin seriously after this. At The Beach showed some promise, but In The Club destroys it in an instant with its tiresome re-hashing. In Armin’s mind, 1999 is still going strong, and I suppose with the continuous influx of new kids to the scene, he’ll be able to live off of that vibe for a long while still. He’s apparently made his bed with the Glory Years, and you can either join in with his never-ending ride or go elsewhere. Of course, once you’ve moved past that introductory stage A State Of Trance seems custom made for, you usually will.

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