Various - Backspin: A Six Degrees Ten Year Anniversary Project (Original TC Review)

Six Degrees: 2007

(2019 Update:
I wonder if 2007 Sykonee would have been so critical of gatekeeping if he'd known that electronic music would blow up to the degree it did half a decade later? My larger point in the pre-amble ramble was pop music needn't be so shunned by the techno underground, but considering the sort of obnoxious bilge that did break through into America - not to mention the usual slop constantly hitting it high in European charts - my wish for a little more acceptance of popular sounds shouldn't have been taken upon a monkey's paw. And was kind of a moot point anyway where this compilation was concerned. Yeah, the original artists being covered here were generally chart toppers, but the selected songs for covering were hardly their biggest hits. Heck, some of them may not have charted at all.

Also, I'd love to see this concept revisited. Would be interesting to see what the current generation of wordly musicians consider their influences of the past three decades.)


IN BRIEF: The old is new again.

Before I start, I feel I should warn you the following review contains musical philosophizing. If you haven’t the time to indulge in my pseudo-intellectual rambling, then here’s the bottom line regarding this release: it’s good. Really good. Check it out. You won’t regret it!

Alright then? Let’s get into it.

Electronic music, for the most part, is typically regarded as non-mainstream. Aside from brief bursts of trendy pop dance hitting the airwaves, most of it is only enjoyed by a select few (in America, anyway). As a result, a sense of pretentiousness has been bred in its fans. The pursuit of underground purity permeates many scenes, even those who could very easily have crossed over had some events been different. This has led to an outright dismissal of anything with a hint of pop. The assumption is if it’s catchy, it must have been manufactured for a wider audience, thus no longer credible within the realms of the indie. What a load of bull.

Granted, a great deal of pop music is manufactured, with the sole intention of placing in the charts as high on street date as possible. But believing every song that does is ridiculous. Fact is plenty of musicians can hit upon a good song the general public enjoys and, with just the right amount of promotion, become a hit. In this age of Everything-Available-All-The-Time, a single spreading through the internet can secure success far better and credibly than thousands of PR dollars pumped into the industry.

Alas, the gut reaction of scensters to ignore good songs that become popular persists. So here’s an intriguing question: what if these popular songs hadn’t made it, and had initially been performed by obscure indie names like Ojos de Brujo or The Real Tuesday Weld? Would such folk enjoy them in that context then?

Okay, okay. This isn’t really the premise behind Six Degrees Records' new compilation. In actual fact, Backspin is a ten year anniversary project for the eclectic label. However, rather than rounding up a bunch of their biggest hits, Six Degrees instead got members of their roster to do covers of their influential songs. But in doing so, it does raise that question, doesn’t it?

Well, maybe not. Perhaps I was the only one to even think of it. It was something that crossed my mind when I saw songs on here originally written by names like Abba and The Beach Boys. Credible names to a degree, sure, but frankly often dismissed by the underground.

Anyhoo, that’s all beside the point. What matters here is whether these cover versions are worth your attention. In a word, yes.

In more than a word, the mark of a good cover is to take a familiar song and make it your own while still honoring what made the original an enduring tune to begin with. And here Backspin certainly succeeds.

Many of the producers here stick to the original arrangements for the most part, but often throwing their own sound into the mix. So Bob Marely’s Get Up Stand Up turns into a fun bit of latin music courtesy of Ojos de Brujo, Herbie Hancock’s Rockit gets organically jazz-housed up by dZihan & Kamien, and MIDIval PunditZ crank the orchestral arrangements up on Led Zeppelin’s Four Sticks.

Elsewhere though, songs are given completely different re-imaginings. For instance, who’d have ever thought the ABBA italo-ballad The Day Before You Came could have been interpreted as a kind of smokey lounge tune sung by a guy probably wearing a beret? The Real Tuesday Weld did.

Of course, there are plenty of other examples I could dwell on, but part of the fun in this compilation is discovering what surprises these musicians throw at you. Here’s a few tidbits that caught my interest:

- Shrift’s take on God Only Knows really turns this tune into a weepy. The original was so bouncy that I had never even considered the lyrics could be this depressing.

- Toby Marks (Banco de Gaia) seems to still be having fun with his vocoder.

- Spirits In The Material World has notoriously been known to be a difficult song to cover, as the arrangements are deceptively complicated. Good on Karsh Kale to have a go.

- Los Mocosos’ cumbia go at The Bed’s Too Big Without You is a hoot!

So a wrap up then? Backspin is a lot of fun, period. While the wide range of musical types may not be everyone’s cup of tea, the fact they wrap familiar pop in these unique styles should keep even the least adventurous intrigued. Seek it out and get reacquainted with old standbys.

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

Banco de Gaia - You Are Here

Six Degrees Records: 2004

You Are Here is Banco de Gaia's worst album.

I was tempted to just leave it there, move on, and eat up self-imposed word count with discussions of puppies, or kittens, or puptens, or kitpies (surely merging all that adorableness will result in something uber-adorable!). Besides, while it's fun to tear into utter crap EDM or banal trance bollocks now and then, it's lame getting hyper-critical like some edgelord YouTuber at my age, especially if it's with regard to an artist I actually like. But then I got wondering, why do I dislike You Are Here so much? While I enjoy most of Toby Marks' music, even I cannot deny he's thrown up a few dud tracks along the way, stuff that doesn't move my mojo in favour of his mint material. This album though, so much of it just feels regrettably off to my ears, such that I need to unpack this, understand why I rank it so low in Banco's discography.

Where to begin? How about the thing that's immediately noticeable and casts a shiny, slick, sucky sheen on everything: the mixdown. You know how there's a difference between a rock album from the '70s, and one from the '80s, in that the latter often sounds flatter and stripped of analogue warmth? That's what it's like listening to You Are Here compared to every other Banco album. Dear Lord, but does it ever sound digitally flat to me, as though the soul of Marks' music is completely absent. So many bass textures are DOA (glaringly so on Waking Up In Waco and Not In My Name), that it makes sitting through them a cringing chore. This, from a musician who can have you hanging on every second in a half-hour-plus excursion through Kincajou! Even Marks must have realized this digital mastering wasn't working for him, as he went back to an analogue mixdown in his follow-up Farewell Ferengistan, with much improved results.

That leads me to my second point: I can never remember how the back-end of this album goes. After the radical tonal shifts between the twelve-minutes long, slow blues-jazz croon of Gray Over Gray, into the cheeky pop-house romp of Tongue In Chic, the remaining three tracks of You Are Here always and utterly evaporate from memory, sometimes even right after they've played. This is the only Banco album where that happens to me! No matter their quality, every tune on every other album sticks in my brain meat, but Not In My Name, We Are Here, and Still Life? Fifteen years on, and still nada despite many attempts.

Then there's the heavy-handed political sloganeering (even for a Banco album), the genre dalliances that never led to future explorations, and that initial nagging dread that, after 10 Years, Banco de Gaia might have nothing left in the creative tank. Thankfully, You Are Here proved more an aberration than a trend, so I'll end on a positive note: Zeus No Like Techno remains good stupid fun.

Various - Traveler '03

Six Degrees Records: 2003

The only hope a label like Six Degrees Records could have at success is predicated upon a compilation series like their Travel CDs. Take a casual survey of their roster, and most likely you’ll draw a blank on seventy percent of them. I only familiarized myself with Six Degrees because Banco de Gaia found a new home there after his Planet Dog/Mammoth deal ended (prints going out of business will do that). And while I’ve since found a few interesting acts alongside him (dZihan & Kamien, DJ Cheb I Sabbah …The Orb!?), most draw a big ol’ blank from me. It’s my way-Western bias, see, forever limiting the sort of global exposure I could have at the tips of my earlobes. Names like Batidos, Niyaz, Issa Bagayogo, Cibelle, Ojos de Brujo, Bossacucanova, and Willy Porter are well outside my sphere of influence, and while Six Degrees’ manifesto is all about dropping some worldly musical knowledge on folks such as I, it’s all a bit much to take in for any but the most daring of global trekkers.

Hence the Travel series, a (mostly) annual compilation rounding up Six Degrees artists familiar and obscure as a showcase for the curious. Even a passing familiarity with the label should have folks weaned on the likes of Karsh Kale, MIDIval PunditZ, and Bob Holroyd, but who among thee know of Bobi Céspedes, Lumin, or Qwii Music Arts' Trust Khoi San Music? No, don’t lie, you’ve never heard that last one before, because this is the only place within Lord Discogs’ tome of knowledge it appears. Who even is Qwii Music Arts' Trust Khoi San Music? Fortunately, the inlay provides handy write-ups of the artists within. For this particular track of Xlao Tshao, we are told “These “Bushmen” of the Kalahari Desert and their music have evolved from 25,000 years of indigenous culture. They believe their music has the potential to heal their community through rhythm.” Well, that wasn’t much help at all. I could tell this was charming African-folk music just from hearing it, thank you very much.

That’s about the best way to take in Traveler ‘03 in, simply playing the CD back and hearing all the various cultures represented. And don’t worry about being too over-cultured, as Six Degrees’ main goal has always been about bridging these wide cultural gaps with easily-digested global grooves. Lots of downtempo dub, shufflin’ Afro-jazz, and even some braindancey breaks action care of Lumin’s Izgrala. MIDIval PunditZ’ Dark Escape has a brisk techno pulse going, while Ben Neill’s Bugfunk and Karsh Kale’s GK² isn’t a touch out of classic breaks, but with an ethnic twist.

And if all that isn’t enough of a bridge, there’s a bonus second CD with Traveler ‘03 of straight-up club remixes. Right, some of these are Latin clubs or jazz clubs, but house clubs too. Heck even Berghain jocks would rinse out that ultra-deep David Alvarado rub of Sylk 130’s Romeo’s Fate. How’d that get on here?

The Orb - The Dream

Six Degrees: 2007

Now here’s a strange parallel: The Orb and The Simpsons. Both emerged at the same time (1989), had a critically and commercially heralded run for their first seven or eight years of existence, and then began a steady decline of importance as the current millennium took hold. Those who stuck around for new music/episodes insist things aren’t that bad, but even the hold-outs won’t deny the quality of product significantly dipped compared to the Early Years. There was even a minor, resurgent uptick in interest for both camps in the mid-‘00s, each finding a way to reignite discourse in their respective brands (The Simpsons Movie / The Orb releasing an album on trendy chill label Kompact). Of course, this has little to do with The Dream, but given the recent rash of Simpsons related topics flooding the internet, I couldn’t help but notice this while glancing back on The Orb’s discography.

The '00s were a weird time for the project fronted by Dr. Alex Paterson, drifting from label to label, seemingly aimless in their endeavors and growing ever more irrelevant as newer downbeat musics got all the press and plaudits. Perhaps growing forlorn for the good ol' days, the Doc' often reunited with his former Orb mates, or maybe his original posse would come a-callin' for some studio sessions. The Dream sees a return of Martin Glover (aka: Youth; aka: Killing Joke; aka: Dub Trees; aka: New World Orchestra; aka:...) for a full-length collaboration. Hey, that don't sound so bad, Youth quite instrumental in crafting The Orb's dubbier moments in the early days.

And yeah, The Dream delivers on those fronts, tracks like DDD (Dirty Disco Dub), Lost & Found, and High Noon tapping into all those tasty reggae-vibe jams that turned Perpetual Dawn into a classic (not to mention making ‘ambient dub’ a thing in the early ‘90s). But this is (was) the modern times, mang, and psy dub’s the fresh hotness where this sort of music’s concerned. Good thing Glover kept his ear to that ground, then, as The Dream has several takes on the genre Shpongle made popular. Gander at The Truth Is… (ethereal gospel!), Mother Nature (Middle-East riddims!), Katskills (trippy-dippy, hippies!), and Codes (rasta space-men!).

This being latter-era (re: non-Weston) Orb though, the productions aren’t ultra-dense sonic-soups, at times sounding shamelessly aiming for a little radio play (oh hi, A Beautiful Day). Also, the only thing that keeps The Dream from being a full-on Youth album is frequent use of quirky musical and dialog samples, often played through those Orb filters that’s practically a trademark of the project (heck, it wouldn’t surprise me if Doc’ Pat’ did trademark the technique) - par for the course where many Orb LPs are concerned.

Of course, the big question is how The Dream stacks against the classics. Take a gander at closer Orbisonia for your answer. Though not representative of The Dream as a whole, I challenge you to resist the feelings of warm Orb nostalgia on that one.

Various - Motion 2: A Six Degrees Dance Collection

Six Degrees Records: 2002

This alphabetical stipulation is a burden sometimes. Its fine when I enter a CD series that has some prestige behind it - Global Underground, Fabric, Fahrenheit Project (!) - but what of the obscure ones? I can't imagine folks were waiting with bated breath as I went through four volumes of Elemental Chill last year, and Lord knows I was running on fumes by the end of but two mega-volumes of Goa Trance: Psychedelic Flashbacks. Now we have Motion where despite containing another round of classy tracks, is likely destined to languish in the back corners of this blog once disappearing from front page rotation.

Trouble is there's so little to talk about these CDs beyond the nuts and bolts review fodder. I'm not versed enough in Six Degrees that I can provide a grand perspective on Motion 2's standing with the rest of the label, much less proper world beat at large (dear Lord, those New Sounds Of Brazil CDs look scary). And while I hope whatever readership I gain is open-minded enough about this music to not dismiss it out of hand, I suspect this is entirely too niche for all but the truly musically adventurous out there. Perhaps Six Degrees realized this, hence one of their ongoing slogans being “Everything Is Closer Than You Think”, hoping an occasional curious listenership found unsuspecting kinship with arts and culture seemingly so wildly distant.

That said, Six Degrees Records probably overshot their estimation of how many folks out there were gonna' dig their stylee. Motion only lasted two volumes, the remix culture none too interested in dance floor weapons from a deep world beat label. Heck, I only picked this one up out of a sense of completion when I saw it sitting in a used shop. Oh, alright, I also wanted a proper copy of that Jack Dangers Mix of Banco de Gaia’s How Much Reality Can You Take?. Don’t look at me like that, this remix is some skilled big beat action!

The rest of Motion 2 features more mint examples of house and breaks, though isn’t as dynamic as the first one. Good example is another remix of Bob Holroyd’s Drumming Up A Storm, this time handled by Bob himself. His go treads blissy nu-jazz vibes, which is fine for this sort of thing, but compared to the exhilarating tribal workout of Romanthony’s remix, it’s just not as fun. Of familiar names recognizable by even the most layman of clubbers, Chicago house don Ron Trent indulges himself in some Latin shuffle in Batidos’ Tengo Sed, and Josh Wink does the minimal techno thing on Tweaker’s Linoleum (the good kind!).

There’s more, but I sadly suspect my words would fall on dead eyes. Names like Faze Action, Q-Burns Abstract Message, and 95 North do command respect within their respective scenes, but something tells me their fans aren’t about to scope out a Six Degrees Records compilation with names like Euphoria, Hawke, and Monica Ramos on it.

Various - Motion: A Six Degrees Dance Collection

Six Degrees Records: 2001

I'd probably have never given Six Degrees Records much thought if Toby Marks hadn't joined them for State-side distribution. When I dug a bit further into Six Degrees' manifesto, however, I found the cut of their jib most intriguing. Electronic dance music fused with world beats and culturally-inclined jazz-folk; yet of a classier, underground sort, not that cheesy New Age stuff Deep Forest inspired. As it turned out, Six Degrees lured in plenty of significant names of this scene (Karsh Kale, State Of Bengal, Cheb I Sabbah, etc.), plus a number of breaks and house outliers who had similar interests (DJ Cam, King Britt, DJ Spooky).

To accommodate their growing roster and interests of dance music, Six Degrees started a few compilation series for promotion. Traveller was their main one with a focus on label exclusives, but as any good label knows, you need that remix series too. Enter Motion.

I better admit here that I’ve only gone ankle-deep into the Six Degrees waters. Maybe it was the shock of Cheb I Sabbah’s La Kahena’s pure traditionalism, as this is a label you don’t beat around the bush with. If you’re a house or breaks enthusiast, some acts are familiar enough in style that a few releases would sit nicely with well known names. Below that surface though, chances are you’ll continually be confounded by forms of world music you did not know exist, much less find the time to explore all their nuances. I’m sure there’s much rich diversity to discover with Six Degrees, but I simply haven’t dedicated any time towards doing so, content with Banco de Gaia’s content and whatever associated music he happens to drag along with.

Speaking of, here’s Motion, about as friendly an introduction to the label as any house head could hope for. A couple names should already be familiar to those well-versed in that scene, including Sylk 130 (a King Britt alias) and dZihan & Kamien. Some may remember the duo who were part of the early ‘00s resurgence of European flavoured deep house, yet weren’t of Nordic descent; instead, they lent an Eastern bit of flair to their sound, and thus were quite chummy with Kruder & Dorfmeister sorts. dZ&K also get the lone non-remixed tune on Motion, the exclusive B Movie which is all kinds of groovy shuffle and floaty bliss. Elesewhere, DJ Cam re-rubs his own DJ Cam Soundsystem into a disco dubby cut that DJ Sneak would nod approvingly for.

In the back end of Motion, things go more prog-house with The Light and PFN’s remix of Banco de Gaia’s Obsidian, while harpist Monica Ramos has her upbeat Ocean re-arranged for Balearic DJs, and Garry Hughes almost goes proper psy-dub with his take on Euphoria’s Delirium (no, not Delerium’s Euphoria - that’s something else).

Despite this CD’s age (geez, a decade-plus!), it remains a solid collection of Six Degrees sounds and an easy primer. Or a good collection of ethnically-tinged house music. Your choice.

Banco de Gaia - The Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia

Six Degrees Records: 1999/2000

Despite the brilliance that was Big Men Cry, Toby Marks couldn't mope forever. He freed himself of old label woes, established his own print in Disco Gecko, and discovered something in the process: the idea of Banco de Gaia as a proper band could work. All these factors likely contributed to the sudden, upbeat change in tone for his fourth proper LP, The Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia. Even the title's playfully tongue-in-cheek: nothing sombre, political, or reflective here, just happy fun-times found within, trust.

And even if all that wasn't enough to convince you that you were in for a peppier album than normal, the first track is I Love Baby Cheesy, a truly ridiculous title if ever there was, and a right hoot to boot. I've already reviewed the single for that though, and truth is it was the only real single to emerge from Magical Sounds. Back in those days, you could count on at least a pair of EPs, so what's up with that? Were there no other single-worthy tunes on here?

B’ah, what a laugh - choice cuts were selected for other releases, is all. The lovey-dubby Sinhala and spacey ethno-breaks Touching The Void made the cut on the 10 Years retrospective, while a live rendition of funky, world beat, communal-chanter No Rain appeared on another retrospective in Memories Dreams Reflections. Oh, and Glove Puppet was re-purposed into trip-hop for the follow-up album Igizeh, which makes some sense as the version here’s about as solemn as Magical Sounds gets, what with mournful strings and samples of war playing in the background (yeah, still got that Pink Floyd thing going on).

The three other tracks aren’t slouches either, and in some ways are among my favourite Banco tunes around. Harvey And The Old Ones, for instance, ranks high among the most unique tunes to come from the World Bank. Layers of instruments and rhythmic chants continually build upon each other, conjuring the sort of imagery you’d expect of a tribal gathering out in the hills of India. Things briefly break down midway, then a thumpin’ techno beat emerges as everything rejoins the party for a raucous climax. It’s a fun track all around, the sort of tune that’d go off wonderfully at an outdoor hippie jam. 144k? is another buoyant track, though it wanders around with melancholic, atmospheric ambient dub for much of its duration. Considering the downbeat nature of the opening two-thirds, having such an uplifting end to the tune’s almost cathartic, despite Marks laying the sentiment on rather thick with a chanting sample of “We are beautiful people. We are chosen ones.” Follow-up Frog’s Dinner gets back to the world beat dub style he made his name on from the Planet Dog days, but this one wanders a bit much for my liking.

So I like Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia, but ya’ll knew I would anyway. I like everything from Marks, right? Eh, wait until we reach the ‘Y’s.

Cheb i Sabbah - La Kahena

Six Degrees Records: 2005

Okay, I needed that break from this blog. Juggling it with near full-time work and scholastic endeavors was just too much to deal with. Brain drain on the job, coupled with necessary research and study for essays, there was nothing left in the think-tank for music reviews, even ones as concise as the ones I write here. This semester’s over now, so let’s get back to electronic music criticism. What’s next in my alphabetical list, then? Cheb i Sabbah’s La Kahena? Uh, what the heck is this? Traditional Middle Eastern music? I don’t know a damn thing about this stuff. I… need to research some of this. Oh, God, no! I beg of you, no more researching! My brain can’t take- *grey matter implodes*

Right, I should have known Six Degrees Records would release just as much proper 'world music' as their world beat offerings, but how was I to know Cheb i Sabbah would put together a project of this nature? I've only known of the chap through his DJ gigs (almost primarily at hippie trance parties), and few scattered productions on regular world dub-beat compilations. It was enough to pique my curiosity enough to pick up La Kahena blind, and hoo, was this something I was not expecting in the slightest.

I won't deny enjoying the music here, but it’s on a 'dumb' level, the sort of basic musical appreciation that comes with most things of a rhythmic, melodic, or harmonic nature. Despite the use of drum programming and synth effects, La Kehena is about as traditional as this music gets. Which tradition, you ask? I... honestly don't know. I'm guessing it's Middle Eastern, though maybe North African too, given it was recorded in Morocco. Bottom line is I have no cultural connection to this album (much less able to understand the language it's sung in), so any significance of content beyond “cool beat, neat sounds, heartfelt passion; me like” is utterly lost on my way-Western sensibilities. Maybe if I do a little resear- *grey matter implodes*

Mr. Sabbah must have strongly believed in the potential of this album, as he rounded up tons of musicians to perform on it (how much he contributes, I haven't a clue). Oh, there's Bill Laswell again, doing bass. Karsh Kale, a Six Degrees alum, also shows up. I don't recognize anyone else here. Hell, I don't even recognize some of the instruments they play. An oud? A ney? You got me, names sounding about as foreign as I'm sure a dobro sounds to folks of Yemen. Whatever they are, I bet they sound good on this 5.1 Dolby mixdown I sadly cannot enjoy (damn paper-thin apartment walls).

Is La Kehena worth your time? Sure, I guess. At worst, it'll expose you to a form of music that's just as lively as anything you'll hear in a club, perhaps more so by tapping into the communal nature of such performances. In the end, it's a great educa- *grey matter implodes*

Banco de Gaia - Igizeh

Six Degrees Records: 2000

Anyone recall hearing The Prodigy's Fat Of The Land for the first time? The initial anticipation of new music from an act you enjoy, but feeling content in the assumption they couldn't surprise you any longer? Remember how Smack My Bitch Up utterly abolished those preconceived notions? If you're feelin' what I'm preachin' here, my friends, then you'll have an inclining of how I reacted to hearing Seti I on Banco de Gaia's fifth album.

I'm by no means comparing the two tracks, as they're worlds apart (although they do both make use of an ethnic vocalization). In terms of how they kicked off their respective albums, however, and how they represent everything good about the producers behind them, they're quite similar. At first ear-glance, Seti I works a slow-building atmosphere with oodles of nature samples and chants. A stomping rhythm emerges, and a ridiculously catchy vocal hook joins in. For the duration, this tune absolutely gets the blood pumping. I don't think Toby Marks has ever opened another album stronger than Igizeh, yet Seti I is barely known; heck, it didn't even make it to his 10 Years retrospective or other such collections. So, um, I guess the Prodigy comparison ends there.

Since Seti I wasn’t a single from an album that saw at least two, Igizeh must be an astounding album. Eh, it's good, but not that good. It's actually a rather curious one when you consider the context it came out in. As odd as it sounds, the album finds Marks doing a fair bit of bandwagon jumping, yet somehow maintaining his distinctive sound throughout. The first single, Obsidian, appears to borrow quite a bit from progressive trance, with the (barely comprehensible) vocals from Jennifer Folker lending it further to something far more commercial than you'd ever expect from Banco de Gaia (until You Are Here anyway). One could say the same about the new version of Glove Puppet, a dead-ringer and mint take on trip-hop. Meanwhile, second-single How Much Reality Can You Take has elements of big beat, a notion not gone unnoticed by Jack Dangers when he remixed the tune.

Those were the popular genres of the time (or from a couple years back anyway), but Igizeh features further musical adoption than that. Fake It Till You Make It finds Marks and company going about as full-on Pink Floyd as they ever did back in those days. Gizeh adds Moog funk to their characteristic grand musical builds (Egyptian slave revolutions never sounded so epic!). And B2 sounds like, well, Banco de Gaia did during the early ambient dub days, but with a fresh year-2000 sheen.

So in a roundabout way, Igizeh might have ended up being Banco's most accessible album, but those proggy world-beat attributes didn't quite make it so. The style Marks' project cultivates keeps this firmly on the underground side of music, though as far as 'electronica' albums go, it's remarkably diverse. A bit like that Prodigy album, come to think of it.

Banco de Gaia - I Love Baby Cheesy

Six Degrees Records: 1999

Windows Media Player has some odd organization. Ignoring articles in titles, that makes sense to me – who wants long strings of ‘the’s, ‘a’s, and ‘an’s? Yet here we are in the ‘I’s, and it regards the pronoun ‘I’ as its own entity, lining up all my albums starting with “I…”. On the other hand, it treats the word ‘is’ as lesser than ‘I’, as demonstrated when Khooman’s album Is A Flexible Liquid cropped up in the ‘F’s. All of this, of course, has nothing to do with the music on Banco de Gaia’s I Love Baby Cheesy. If you’ve actually been wondering how this alphabetical thing works though, here’s your answer, since there’s not much to discuss regarding this single, and I have to eat up self-imposed word count somehow.

Truth is, aside from one or two cases, Toby Marks' project doesn't translate well to the singles format. His albums generally are enjoyed as a whole, and the odd tune that does get plucked out for EP use often comes off weaker without the surrounding tracks as context. Still, DJs gotta DJ, and they'd much rather have a shorter piece of wax or disc without all the fuss of partial blends and multi-tracks.

I Love Baby Cheesy was the lead single off Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia (and the lead track, incidentally), marking a return to big, exuberant fun-time music from Marks after the relatively somber Big Men Cry. As a jump off point for that album, it's fantastic, the combination of funky rhythms, catchy nonsensical vocal samples, hooky synths, and dashes of world beat grabbing you by the lapels for a flailing good time on the dance floor or open field. It's about as light-hearted as you'll ever find Banco de Gaia (and if you don't believe me, gander at those goofs in the video). Shame the stupid Radio Edit on this single ruins all of that, but his Skippy Mix makes up for it (aside from a few cosmetic changes, it's the same as the album version).

Two remixers join in on the cheddar love, the first care of Dub Pistols, a group who broke out during the big beat era and are still kicking it today. Best way to describe their take on this tune is… ‘hard-step’ breaks? Whatever, it’s typical late-‘90s fodder, and mostly forgettable.

The second comes care of a chap going by Wayward Soul, offering two rubs here. Lord Discogs says this is actually Anthony Thorpe. *blink* Wait, original acid house Thorpe, he of Addis Posse, Moody Boys, and such? You sure of that, oh Lord? Huh, if so, that’s quite a coup on Marks’ part to snag him. His remixes are pretty cool too, the first (Electric Cheddar Remix) a dubby, tribal breaks thing, and the second (The Afro-European Remix) going deeper into the dub and tribal haze. Yeah, I can vibe to these. They’re definitely unique offerings within the Banco discography, even for those who are not completists. (*tugs at collar*)

Banco de Gaia - Farewell Ferengistan (Original TC Review)

Six Degrees Records: 2006

(2013 Update:
I think this was among the last of my track-by-track reviews, and it's too damn long as a result. Did Ynys Elen really need that much detailing? Of course not! Yeesh. One could probably chalk the length to inexperience in handling over-enthusiastic fandom while writing, as Banco de Gaia remains one of my all-time favorite acts. It'll be interesting to see how I'm forced to curtail it since his upcoming album, Apollo, definitely falls within one of my alphabetical stipulations.)


IN BRIEF: Banco’s back on form

To say the last Banco de Gaia album (You Are Here) was met with lukewarm responses may be generous. While not a bad album, it seemed to lack a coherent theme and purpose, resulting in a listen that was disjointed and confusing. Many followers of Toby Marks’ music wondered if he was feeling a musical burnout, or if You Are Here was merely an experiment that didn’t quite hit the mark. Judging from the material on his new album, Farewell Ferengistan, it seems the latter may have been the case.

Yes, my friends, Marks indeed found his groove once more. While the production definitely comes off more focused this time out, the major improvement is the lack of preach that hampered the last album. Marks often injected political thoughts and ideas in his works, but rarely at the expense of the music on hand. I suppose with the volatile political climate in the years You Are Here was made, Marks’ sloganeering got the better of him, hoping to spur on some extra activism. Unfortunately, it came off redundant, as most of the Banco audience is already boned up on such ideas. Farewell Ferengistan does away with that, letting the music speak for itself again as Marks provides little blurbs in the inlay (including an amusing disclaimer reading, “All facts and claims stated herein are liable to be untrue, partially true, or totally true depending on your viewpoint”; we should have a disclaimer like that too!). The thoughts he details can give some insight into the ideas he approached some of the songs with, but, for the most part, they aren’t crucial in enjoying the music on its own merits.

Also, Farewell Ferengistan creates captivating settings, a long-time Banco trademark, and something that was sorely lacking on the last album. Whether conjuring up dusty Arab caravans, ancient mountain villages, lonely starship freighters, primal tribal gatherings, or drunken monasteries, Marks’ ability to let your imagination take over with his music guiding is remarkable.

The first half of Farewell Ferengistan is quite good at this, drawing upon many influences that harken back to an era when traveling by horse was common, and the dominant empire was that of the Mongols (probably the largest in recorded history). Even the name Ferengistan comes from the name far-flung settlements in Central Asia dubbed Europe at the time (Ferengi became a derogatory term for Western traders, due to their greedy, materialistic tendencies of the time, and used by most Arabs and East Asians... and that’s your fun-fact for the day). As always, Marks’ production is sample-heavy, but unassuming in its presentation. I’ve always marveled at how he can take a well-worn, rinsed-out, over-abused sample, and make it sound fresh again, and this time is no different. Ethnic chants, wood winds, drum loops, spoken dialogue; it’s all here, although some may be a bit more difficult to I.D. this time if you’re a sample trainspotter. As has been the growing trend in Banco de Gaia, electronic elements play a much reduced roll, complementing the organic nature of the songs rather than leading them.

The somber, downbeat title track opens things up, setting up a nice atmosphere but doesn’t really hook you in from the get-go. Rather, the simple melody in Ynys Elen will do the trick, mainly because it’s essentially a 32-bar refrain, repeating throughout the whole track. What keeps you hooked though (besides its catchiness, of course), is the fact Marks is constantly adding something new with each go-around: a new set of drums, a different synth, an added pad, and much more. By always keeping things evolving, Ynys Elen comes across as more of a jam than an actual song, each successive loop bringing a new contribution to the fray.

The pace picks up with Chingiz, a fairly standard dance track with a fairly non-standard vocal lead (Mongolian chants, in case the title didn’t give it away). Not to be outdone, follow-up Kara Kum takes the rhythmic vibes a step further with building layers of forlorn guitar strums, lonely woodwinds, and tribal drums. At one point, the song breaks down to start over, relying on only the drums and an 808 beat to build tension. And build tension it does, as the track’s intensity never gives the listener a chance to catch their breath, relentless in its primal assault. Once the melodic elements return, Kara Kum is in high-gear for a rousing climax. Shame about that abrupt ending though.

The Harmonious G8 is best described as a conceptual interlude. The idea is to fuse together the individual performances of a singer form each of the G8 nations, which was carried out at one of the recent summits. Of course, it isn’t a flowing sound when it comes together, but certainly more coherent than you’d expect.

Moving into the second half of the album, Marks leaves the past and heads into the future with a pair of sci-fi influenced tracks. Saturn Return is a spacey ambient piece, and is quite effective in placing you amongst the stars before grounding you back on Earth with some casual rhythms and a female chant to take you out. Journalists will probably end up adding Terry Riley to the every-growing list of musicians they often strain comparing Banco de Gaia to.

And perhaps even Wendy Carlos as well. Sure, the opening of Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept sounds like a typical Banco tune, with pleasant electronics, groovy rhythms, rich ambience, and a rousing male vocal. However, the song soon moves into a synthy rendition of Flow My Tears. Composed by the British lute player John Dowland in the 16th Century, it has the odd contrast of being both mournful and uplifting at the same time. A simple enough idea, but Marks turns this song into a tribute of sorts to Philip K. Dick, whom penned many sci-fi novels, including the one that went on to be turned into Bladerunner. What kind of tribute (beyond Dick’s enjoyment of the original piece, of course)? By having the lyrics to Flow My Tears sung in a robotic voice, rendering them almost unintelligible! Actually, Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept comes off remarkably well. Even if the lyrics are hard to understand, they still add to the song’s atmosphere, and work as an additional element complementing the main melody. Hey, if it worked for Vector Lovers, why not here as well? It’s a sonic experiment never tried under the Banco banner, and succeeds.

White Man’s Burden changes the album’s setting again with its lengthy, ambient opening. Layers of lush, natural soundscapes keep building, hinting at an emotional peak. Instead, once the rhythms take over, the tone of the track goes one-eighty, turning into something more ominous to lead out. If you’re familiar with the origins of the song’s title, the context of this musical change won’t be lost on you.

Farewell Ferengistan ends on a charming note with We All Know The Truth. The title reads like something you might find on an Enigma album, but the track itself rather sounds like one of William Orbit’s poppier moments, including lyrics sung by Maya Preece of Dragonflys. As a song to cap off the album, I suppose it works. Despite being overly chipper at times, We All Know... feels like a reassuring lullaby, reminding us there’s still warmth in a world that can feel cold at times. How the song fits in the Banco discography, one phrase uttered by Roger Meyers, Jr. sums up my own thoughts: “It’s different, I’ll give it that.”

But different is good when done with finesse. While Farewell Ferengistan does see a return of the of Banco style we’ve been familiar with over the years, there’s enough fresh ideas executed to surprise long term fans as well. For the most part though, this is a contemplative album. Marks seems aware we’re at a turning point of sorts in human history, and while it helps to look to the past for guidance, we should still keep our eyes forward. The future isn’t as scary a place we sometimes think it is so long as we approach it with the right intentions.