Rapoon - Fallen Gods

Staalplaat/Abstrakce Records: 1994/2021

Jumping all around Rapoon's catalogue has yielded plenty of interesting items now, but man, I just can't help but keep returning to Vernal Crossing the most. Something so primal, so instinctual ...so, dare I say, erotic. I keep wondering is there anything else like it in Mr. Storey's storied career, when the answer is so bluntly obvious, I'm astounded it took me this long to realize it. Or maybe I was subconsciously biding my time for a digital remaster to emerge. Sure, let's go with that, a seductive, subliminal message lurking within Vernal Crossing Revisited suggesting I bide my time before returning to this era of the Rapoon tale.

While there's plenty to be said about most of the early Rapoon records, I feel like Fallen Gods gets a little overlooked. It doesn't have that 'new concept' freshness the debut Dream Circle does (an album that's seen a triple-LP reissue!), which follow-ups Raising Earthly Spirits and especially Vernal Crossing maintained. If anything, because Fallen Gods came out the same year as Vernal Crossing, it couldn't help but get bypassed, the post-ecstatic glow of the former record still permeating upon the public consciousness. Whoa, reign in the hyperbole there! It's a cool album, f'sure, but only a highly niche audience would be aware of it back when, much less today.

Still, I'm a little surprised Fallen Gods didn't get at least a little more attention outside the abstract ambient sphere – say, the tribal techno sect? Obviously it sounds little like what you'd hear out of the PWoG camps, but compared to the pure, loopy nature of his previous works, Rapoon has added something more of a propellant rhythmic pulse to all the sampled drums and primal sounds.

Opener certainly seems to build upon the Vernal Crossing formula, but feels more minimalist and dubby. Meanwhile, second track Iron Path is almost mechanical, its rhythms rather jerky and coerced into its loop – and still, all performed rather spaciously, as though letting the drums be the dictating force. Rapoon had always used rhythmic loops before, but seldom such that they were the dominate feature, preferring to focus on the general atmosphere of his compositions. And as if to put an exclamation mark on this different direction, the titular cut features drum work that is almost thunderous, as though the sky spirits themselves are descending upon the populace below.

If Fallen Gods was primarily of this tone, I could see it having more attention over the years, but it kinda' waffles after. There's pure ambient drone pieces (Breathing Gold), tracks that sound like left-overs from the Vernal Crossing sessions (Sacrement, Valley), and a dalliance into what I assume is a Bulbul tarang solo: one mostly unmanipulated, followed by a more 'traditional' Rapoon loop session. All neat stuff, absolutely, but doesn't leave the album with a dominate aesthetic compared to his other works. Which may explain why Fallen Gods didn't get the 'revisited' remix treatment either. Nothing left to further explore here.

Rapoon - Navigating By Colour

Soleilmoon Recordings: 1999

Feels like this has been a long time coming, but I finally get to talk about a vintage Rapoon album! Okay, I've only really been covering the chap for half a decade now, just four albums worth in that time. And even with that scant selection, Mr. Storey's muse has proven a wildly divergent one indeed, such that you'd be hard-pressed to point to any singular sound as That Definitive Rapoon Stylee.

Heck, I'm sure many folks would claim I've already done so, what with having reviewed Vernal Crossing and all. I'll grant his fusion of primal loops with industrial ambient gave Rapoon a significant boost in profile, especially in the wake of his Zoviet France days. Still, it wasn't that sound that first lured me in, but rather a more typical techno approach to the craft. There's still the endless loops and layered dub, just done in a more thumping sort of way. And now with Navigating By Colour, I've finally landed upon an album that delivers it in... well, a couple tracks worth, at least.

First, how does Navigating By Colour fall within the greater Rapoon lexicon. Hell if I know, but here's a basic rundown. Released on Soleilmoon Recordings (where other sonic terrorists like Muslimgauze, Merzbow, and Coil have been comfy), packaged with a dozen postcards featuring art similar to that on the CD slipcase. A real collector's item, this, and by extension not an easy album to find via your usual modern outlets. I feel I lucked out on even finding a seller for this at all, postcards included, but so it goes some days on the Discogs Marketplace.

Opener Blue Hemisphere is the sort of Rapoony music I was introduced to, a brisk rhythm with layered operatic drones ebbing and flowing as things play out. So simple, yet so seductive, losing one's psyche into pure tribalism. Midway through the album, Red Hemisphere gets deeper into the drumming, such that the dub effects morph just as much as the backing pad work. There isn't much else on Navigating by Colour with featured rhythms, though From This Point... does loop mechanical chugging and churning into a rhythm onto itself.

Mostly though, we're in industrial drone territory with this album. Some pieces, like Prussian and Imagine, get weirdly abstract with bits of spoken dialog and layered vocal tones, while The Last Gladding Tide and Winter Shields edge closer to the realms of modern classical. Cerulean and Sienna are pure concrete grinders though, and Eden's Plains is even more punishing in its dark isolationism. Alizarin gets all noisy towards the end of its ten-minute run, and by jove, I do believe we've run the gamut of what one might expect out of a Rapoon joint. If you were expecting anything at all, that is.

Which is half the fun with artists like these, isn't it? Sure, you may have an inkling what to expect, but they'll almost always surprise you just the same.

Rapoon - Downgliding

Carpe Sonum Novum: 2015

Starting a label as a spiritual successor to Pete Namlook's Fax +49-69/450464 is all well and good, but surely Carpe Sonum Records has greater aspirations than being an outlet for modern ambient techno musicians. You bet, and after a few years shaking things out with their main label, an off-shoot emerged with the handle of Carpe Sonum Novum. Far as I can tell, this sub-label mostly features music that isn't quite in line with the vintage Fax+ stylee: techno dub, modern classical, future jazz, acid IDM, and the like. Gabriel Le Mar has released a small pile of CDs here, as well as Carpe Sonum Prime regulars Mick Chillage, Thomas Heckmann, and Krystian Shek.

For my inaugural dive into Carpe Sonum Novum, however, I'm going with a little more Rapoon, because we can never go wrong with a little more Rapoon. Unless it's another album like Song From The End Of The World - brrr, it still sends shivers down my spine. Downgliding isn't like that one though. In fact, it's unlike any of the previous three Rapoon albums I've reviewed, though that probably isn't saying much. With a discography as vast as Robin Storey's, odds are good you're getting variety aplenty, never knowing quite what you'll get with each project. It's half the fun!

Actually, Downgliding has some similarities to another Rapoon album I've covered, Psi-Transient, in that they both have elements of modern classical – pianos, plucking strings, and the like. However, whereas Psi-Transient fed such music through Robin's industrial grinder, Downgliding plays things mostly straight, which makes sense for a record out on Carpe Sonum Novum. Can't see off-putting noisy assaults meshing well with RCO's Radical Chill Out, yo'.

The fanciest effects we get are offered in the titular opener Travelling Under. The longest track at eleven minutes long, Robin layers minimalist drones in reverse delay, crafting a mood that, while not eerie or uneasy, certainly airs on the side of cryptic. Follow-up Ocean's Pull uses plucking synths while scaling back the reverse delay effects some, and An Edge Of Blue drenches piano and pads tones in them. Most of the remaining tracks flit between drone tones, plucking synths and grand piano pieces (well, about as grand as Pro-Tools pianos can sound, of which Robin admits to in the liner notes ...and are remarkably grand indeed), many utilizing reverse delay in some capacity.

As for a theme linking all these pieces together, let's see if you can glean one from these track titles: A Weight Of Worlds. Ahab's Odyssey. Encircled. Voyage Fall. The Siren's Eyes. Washed Ashore In Alabaster. Yeah, there's a sense of traversing about the bounding main, and with the modern classical approach to it all, a surprisingly 'high art' vibe for a Rapoon album. It's probably a strained comparison, but I'm most reminded of Harold Budd and Brian Eno's The Pearl, another album I had significant 'marine' feels for. If it was performed with a lot of reverb delay, anyway.

Rapoon - Song From the End Of The World

Glacial Movements Records: 2016

Just another dark ambient album, that's all this was meant to be. I've reviewed countless of these, enjoyed most of them for their sonic narratives and explorations of dronescapes. I've even let my mind drift into escapism with some offerings, into realms while not hospitable, certainly provide solace in sensory deprivation. I certainly never let them 'get to me', affect my mood to such a degree that I need to step back for a bit, come back when I'm of better frame of mind. Much, much later. That Rapoon fella' though, he has a way of getting under your brain, tapping into parts of your psyche that seems all too willing to surrender its autonomy, utterly succumbing to whatever vibe he's crafting. And if that vibe happens to be an 'end of the world' motif, well, you can imagine that having the effect of bringing down your whole day.

Not that this isn't untapped material where Robin's discography is concerned. A good chunk of his Zoviet France days was spent twisting tapes into a weird, hypnotic cacophony of post-industrial horrors. As his career transitioned into Rapoon, however, his sonic travels generally drifted further away from such bleakness, at times even coming across jubilant while still adhering to those most primitive of musical instincts. By contrast, Song From The End Of The World sounds like a return to those roots. Not to say that Mr. Storey hasn't dabbled into Zoviet France styled stuff between then and here – I can't claim to have heard every Rapoon album – but of what I've listened to, this album re-captures those apocalyptic vibes quite nicely. And by nicely, I mean terrifying.

He doesn't waste any time getting right into the thick of it either. We Travelled In Waves does that warping loop-craft much of Rapoon's music entails, this time with a bleak piano and bell tones endlessly repeating while white noise hiss marinates everything in a suffocating stench. This goes on for quite a while, before abruptly shifting into eerie, twitchy minimalism, and discordant orchestral swells, all the while maintaining that hypnotic repetitiveness. When the piano returns, it's almost a sigh of relief, remarkable considering how unsettling it sounded at the start.

And it only gets more hopeless from there. A Listening Ice sounds like wailing wraiths trapped under Antarctic glaciers. A Sky Beckons Down brings in ghostly voices and tongues. A Prophecy Lies Under adds an orchestral to all the chanting. An Answer In Ice twists sounds in such a way they sound like flesh-ripping polar winds. And to tie things up, The Sky Dances In Green lays everything to waste. Serious 'World Of Ruin' vibes with this one, lasting well over eleven minutes. Take that 'leap of faith', Celes, you're better off.

It feels weird recommending Song From The End Of The World. It's not a headspace one should actively indulge in. If you're at all curious of the psychological power of dark ambient though, by all means give it a go.

Rapoon - Vernal Crossing Revisited

Staalplaat/Zoharum: 1994/2013

As I continuously marvel at our modern marvels of finding and gathering all forms of music, I wonder if I'd have had any hope at all of finding Rapoon's Vernal Crossing back in the day. Like, I barely even knew who the chap was, my only reference point a lone track on a Hypnotic compilation called Ambient Rituals. Still, such recognition was enough for me to nab a copy of any artist album if I so happened upon them in the Vancouver music shops: compilations were very handy in the discovery process of music hunting.

So let's assume Rapoon's Vernal Crossing somehow crossed the Atlantic Ocean, crossed the North America continent, and crossed every distributor's hands to end up on a shelf that I just so might have happened to cross paths with. What section of the store would it even be filed under? Not the 'Electronica' one, that's for sure, the music within far too tribal and 'ethnic' to rub shoulders with house and techno CDs. The 'World Music' section then, but man, there's something far removed from any sort of reality in Rapoon's music, hardly fitting in with the likes of [endless name-drop session of culturally influential musicians abroad]. Heck, it could very well have migrated to a New Age corner, what with the meditative qualities lurking in the endlessly looping chants and rhythms coupled with hypnotizing pad work. Maybe it'd have ended up in the 'Industrial' section, if the music clerk was savvy enough to know of Rapoon's Zoviet France background.

And even if I had found it, what on Earth would I have made of it? For sure the world beat dork in me would be intrigued by all the chanting and drumming, but this stuff is on an entirely different plane of existence compared to what I was familiar with (Banco de Gaia, Deep Forest, etc.). It's, dare I say, erotic, opening track The Same River Once creating an atmosphere of primal jubilation and haunting ecstasy, a celebration of the coming season of fertility. Makes me want to strip naked and dance in the spring sunshine with someone of the Wiccan faith.

What gives all these tracks an other-worldly edge is the same dusty, dubby filter Robin Storey used throughout Zoviet France's run. Best I can describe is as though you're watching a grainy, black-and-white documentary, a short film repeatedly flickering against a stone wall in the claustrophobic dark. You recognize elements of human culture, especially those involved in ancient rituals predating anything the West has conceived, but it doesn't seem real, more like a fever dream of what once was.

Vernal Crossing was apparently the album that got folks noticing Rapoon on a unique wavelength when it came to ethno-ambient, such that it received a 2013 remake from the man himself. While it certainly captures his recent, more polished songcraft, there's still something entrancing about the primitive, dubby looping going on in the original. Feels like a more appropriate vibe, given the subject matter.

Rapoon - Psi-Transient

Aquarellist: 2013

I first stumbled upon Rapoon way back in my initial ambient explorations, and have consistently seen his name crop up ever since. However, an impossibly high work-rate has left Robin Storey with an incredibly daunting discography, Lord Discogs listing over seventy albums to his name. Hell, there's over twenty listed since Psi-Transient dropped four years ago! And that's not to mention his pioneering work with seminal dark ambient act Zoviet France before he went solo. So a regular busy-body all said, one I probably wasn't ready to take a plunge with back when, but definitely ready for here-now. Only trouble is where do I start? With a discography this extensive, I'll have to do some serious research, verify expert opinions, study scene influ- oh, never mind, I'll just buy this particular one I see on sale at Reverse Alignment's online shop.

Along with his Zoviet background, one of the things that made Rapoon stand out in the nu-Nineties ambient scene was his inclusion of ethnic and tribal sounds. This could be anything from drums, woodwinds, or chants, but always manipulated in such a way as to fit his looping, droning sound experiments. I honestly don't know how much of this has carried over to his recent output, as there's no possible way I'm taking in all of his music in such a short amount of time. I'd need a full day to just get through what's offered on Spotify alone, and there's not a person alive with that sort of attention span anymore. What I can tell you is if you're expecting some of that ethnic styling in Psi-Transient, you'll be left wanting.

Fortunately, I have such little knowledge of Rapoon's overall output, I come in with no preconceived biases. On the other hand, I've no clue where Psi-Transient exists within his oeuvre. Maybe nowhere specific, Mr. Storey striking me as the sort that follows wherever his muse takes him. If that means shovelling out music created for its own sake, then so be it.

For instance, opening track Shake Root prominently features distorted, thunking rhythms, and had me thinking I'd be in for some noisy, industrial-leaning sonic assaults; definitely not something I was expecting in the slightest. Then follow-up track Sentire goes mellow with gentle synth tones and looping, dubby drums pitter-pattering in the background. Ah, feeding off that old-school ambient techno vibe, then. Nah, scratch the 'techno' part of that, the next couple tracks strictly synth pad noodling. Then we're treated to some modern classical dalliances, More Halls And Afternoons Of Sun a gentle piano piece, In Voice We See mostly orchestral strings played in reverse.

From there, much of Psi-Transient flits between ambient drone and experimental modern classical pieces (ooh, trumpets in Smoke Glass Weed, like elephants trippin' on acid!). It's all very strangely captivating music, in a wall-papery sort of way. A fairly pleasant album, all said, though maybe not the best introduction to Rapoon's music. Which of his seventy albums are, though?