Photek - Form & Function

Virgin: 1998

I guess this was the only, non-single item left in Photek's early discography I'd yet to nab. Granted, it wasn't terribly high on my 'must-have' list, the very odds-n-sods nature of it all. New music from Mr. Parkes seems mostly at an end though, save the occasional collab' and some score work. Which is fine, the Photek legacy well earned and deserved to rest on a bed of laurels. If I want to hear more of that vintage drumfunk sound, there's plenty of new cats more than willing and able to pick up where Rupert once led. Still, that lingering OCD of mine, itching to at least complete the Photek set, such as it is. Sure, I'll grab Form & Function, should I spot it for a dime in some Discogs Seller collection.

Unfortunately, there's no getting around the 'hodgepodge' nature of this compilation. When you round up a bunch of remixes and b-sides, it's difficult enough sorting them into a consistent flow. Never mind the fact this was coming off Modus Operandi, an album that, while perhaps a little vacuous overall, at least had an identity to itself front to back. Though hardly justified, comparisons are inevitable, Form & Function forever saddled with the big brother that is Photek's debut.

That albatross sorted, let's dig into what we do get with this CD. Separated by two halves, the first deals with the remixes, the second rare stuff. Your mileage will probably vary whether you want to hear classic Photek or other people having their way with his tunes (“why not both?” asks the little Mexican junglist girl).

Funny enough, the first remix featured on Form & Function comes from Photek himself, a little modernizing of his early single of The Seven Samurai. The original is included among the latter tracks, so you can hear for yourself Mr. Parkes' evolution. Like, from the jump, you can hear how he was finding ways to manipulate the tech-step sinister sound into something even twitchier, though his drum programming was still reliant on a few tear-out moments. Not so for the remix, stripping things even further so you can really feel that bass resonance filling in all the empty space between the drums.

Anyhow, enough of that, here's some remixes from Digital, Decoder & Peshay, and Doc Scott. They all take Photek's sound into more familiar DnB territory: standard tech-step, a little jazzstep, and, erm, jump-up, respectively. Seriously, it's almost funny hearing the Doc try to force the most critically ridiculed jungle genre of its era into the most critically lauded. That said, I rather like J Majik's go with UFO, adding some nifty sci-fi synths that would have fit perfectly with other Modus Operandi tracks.

And the remaining Photek tracks? A little heady (Knitevision), a little funky (Santiago), a little atmospheric (Rings Around Saturn), a little classic (The Water Margin). A solid assortment, proving Parkes could mix things up. Man, the album needed some of these...

DJ Tiësto - Revolution (A 'Token Prog' Review)

Virgin: 2001

Never heard of this one? Me neither, until I happened across it on Discogs. Tiesto already had a cottage industry of mix CDs to his name come 2001, with both his Magik and In Search Of Sunrise series in full flow, but most were only available in the UK on import and they were generally single-discers, which didn’t give much scope for including a Token Prog Disc. So Virgin Records cooked up Revolution to capitalise on his growing popularity in the UK market, including a full disc dedicated to that moody drummy stuff so beloved by the Britishers.

Now before we go on, I’d like to temporarily pause my pithy prog appraisal and point out just how much armour piercing nostalgia these 2001 CD sleeves give me. Look at that chunky sans-serif font type, the tasteful minimalist layout. Oh my God, the title even looks like a watermark. I’ve no doubt it’s because the design template is completely ripped off from Virgin’s Anthems series from the same era, which were some of the very first mix CDs I laid eyes on, but there’s something about the graphic design of this era that takes me right back.

Anyway. There’s something else we need to talk about here. It’s the mastering. Whoever mastered this CD fucked up biiiiig time, which is perhaps why it’s largely forgotten even amongst Tiesto’s fans. The whole thing is recorded in mono, seemingly from the bottom of a tin can, on the end of a bad phone line. On Mars. Which is a shame, because the Token Prog Disc here (titled Darkside) is actually pretty good. Not great, but very listenable.

Plantpot opens with his own remix of Delerium, because of course, and while the ultra-syrupy vocal stylings of Leigh Nash weren’t winning any prog cool points, the fact he cut this remix at 125bpm tells you which way the wind was blowing in clubland. And despite the “Darkside” moniker, CD1 is actually quite smooth early on, less about the pulverising tech trance of Lethal Industry or Flight 643 and more a grown up version of those cartoon magik pixies searching for their sunrises that made Tiesto his name, the likes of Golden Desert and Innocence being dreamy closing-credits trance that don’t make your eyes roll so violently that your sockets get friction burn.

Things start to pick up pace with Fred Numf’s remix of Lovin’, although you can tell it’s 2001 because Tiesto gets it out of the way before the big trancey bit really gets going. The second half is much more percussive and the bandwagon hop is finally in full flow. Things get progressively harder and less tuneful before climaxing with utter inevitability on the tribal drums and ethnic wailing of The Search. Just a shame the mastering takes most of the oomph out of these cuts.

Cursory Second Disc Verdict: Magik Seven on third hand cassette rip. Okay, the tracklist is slightly different, but another good reason why nobody remembers this compilation.

FSOL - ISDN

Virgin: 1995

You'd think I'd have gotten this in my initial gathering of FSOL albums, a necessary companion to Lifeforms and Dead Cities. A few things kept me from doing so though, a primary factor being I wasn't sure this was even an album. Compared to Ziggy Riphead's striking, CGI artwork from this period in Future Sound Of London's timeline, ISDN is flat, drab, and nondescript. Which hey, is an artistic statement in of itself, plus you'd find plenty weirdo visual-scapes within the booklet if you really needed them.

Still, this record had something of a rep, in that even for a FSOL LP, ISDN was way out there. Wherein Brian and Garry, uninhibited by such limitations as 'performance' and 'audience expectation', could transmit their muses directly into your living rooms. Oh honeys, you hadn't heard anything yet. Just wait until you get a load of this thing called 'live streaming'!

That all said, an appreciation of Brain and Garry's numerous Environment outings finally got me to properly grab ISDN. Okay, reconnecting with a few tunes like Slider, Amoeba and A Study Of Six Guitars didn't hurt in nudging me either. Whether this was some over-indulgent live show broadcast over a fledgling internet, or an assemblage of studio wankery, it was hard to deny at least a handful of dope-ass tunes emerged from these sessions. Surely there were more than what I plucked out of ancient P2P programs.

Confounding the “is this a live album or not?” vibe of ISDN is opener Just A Fucking Idiot, sampling live audio from a Joy Division/New Order. From there, the track's pure future-shock territory, so *deep breath* The Far Out Son Of Lung And The Ramblings Of A Madman grounds things with freeform jazz-funk groovy goodness. An appropriately bit of bridging ambience in Appendage later, and we're into the highlights off ISDN: Slider and Smokin Japanese Babe. Yeah, you could argue they're FSOL jumping on some trendy genres (big beat and trip-hop, respectively), but they're still done in that nifty, warped, post-apocalyptic, psychedelic, sampleholic way only FSOL were doing at the time.

After that though, ISDN goes wa-a-a-yy deep into sound collages and music making for its own sake. For sure some moments stick out – the electro-chill of You're Creeping Me Out, the spritely melodies in Eyes Pop – Skin Explodes – Everybody Dead - but it's not until eleventh track Egypt that things steer in some sort of direction again. As for Egypt, it's got electro rhythms, chants, crickets, woodwinds... y'know, vintage Lifeforms-era FSOL.

Kai and Amoeba feel like two halves of a whole, what with their muted rhythm sections, though I prefer Amoeba's sputtering voice pads over Kai's industrial drone-throb. Six Guitars remains pure bliss, and Snake Hips takes us out on total psychedelic rock weirdness. An Amorphous one calls from beyond.

So yeah, ISDN does have some of FSOL's best moments. It's just a shame they mostly come at the bookends of the album rather than as a consistent whole.

The Chemical Brothers - Come With Us

Virgin: 2002

The fourth album from Misters Rowlands and Simons is regarded as something of a well-received flop – enjoyed when released, but leaving little lasting impression upon The Chemical Brothers' wider catalogue. Frankly, they had to try something different, lest they remain thought of as vanguards of a rapidly cratering big-beat scene. Surrender had already started the transition, but that album had enough familiar sonic markers making it more of a companion piece to Dig Your Own Hole than anything drastically different.

So reinvention was necessary, but where could they go? The same place everyone goes eventually: house or techno. In this case, they went with the latter, or about as techno as The Chemical Brothers could reasonably get away with. Something closer to their underground party roots, where the rhythms are repetitive and relentless, no space for big anthemic choruses with rock radio guest stars.

Testing those waters was a test-pressing for the track It Began In Afrika, a tune that I practically knew how it'd go before hearing it once. “Oh, I bet they'll use that vocal sample that says the title, which I first heard in an Ice MC track, then do some tribal drumming along with their usual psychedelic loops of fury. I is so smart!” Having hacked the puzzle (or whatever), I wasn't too enthused about the new Chemical Brothers and let Come With Us pass me by.

Something drew me back to it though, a lingering sense of curiosity of what the album's full length might entail. That initial positive buzz had to be worth something, and latter reactions seem to confirm this is a 'deeper' record compared to their other efforts. Seeing as how it's so dirt cheap on the used market, springing for a copy wouldn't hurt. I've never been led astray by a Chemical Brothers album anyway (even if one in particular was overplayed to the grave).

And the titular opener sets us off in good fashion, a smashing tension builder with a climax of cascading synth sweeps that I'm sure sequenced amazingly with 1.21 gigawatts of laser technology. Not as immediately ear-wormy as their other album openers, but then this is supposedly a 'deeper' album. It Began In Afrika-ka-ka-ka-ka comes next, and it's exactly as I predicted. It's pretty dope too, so fool on me for initially so haphazardly dismissing it because I guessed the ending. Star Guitar was the other big tune off here, a loopy Balearic outing that kind of reminds me of The Field (or is that foretold?). Only two guest vocalists appear, the obligatory Beth Orton featuring The State We're In, and Richard Ashcroft of The Verve on the obligatory psychedelic closer The Test.

The remaining mostly amount to uptempo breaks and techno tracks, the limp acid-fart of My Elastic Eye the only dud among them. Hardly adventurous stuff, but I'm sure it felt nice for these brothers to get back to some basic party jams. It's definitely one of the smoothest Chemical Brothers albums I've heard.

The Chemical Brothers - Brothers Gonna Work It Out

Virgin: 1998

The Chemical Brothers became known as producers elite so swiftly into their careers, their humble DJing roots were almost entirely forgotten by Dig Your Own Hole. For sure the heady-heads remembered the dodgy 'Dust Brothers' era, but as the '90s came closer to closure, the millions of new fans Ed and Ted had gained remained in the dark of their past influences. Sensing a chance to perhaps educate all these fresh faces attending their concerts, Misters Simons and Rowlands released this DJ mix between albums, a massive mash-up of the tunes that were rinsed out 'back in the day' with a bunch of b-sides and remixes of their current big beat hitters.

I'm not sure if it entirely worked. Oh, the set is great, with plenty of wonderful moments highlighting all that made folks fall sway to the Chem'Bros' charms. I just don't think many of them knew exactly what they were getting. “Is this their new album or not?” they'd ask me in that little music shop I worked at. And I'd reply, “Eh, not really. It's a DJ mix.” After a moment's blank stare, I'd add, “It's not a new album.” Said customer of straw would then move on, leaving Brothers Gonna Work It Out collecting dust, brother. At least, that's how it went down in my backwater corner of Canadaland. I'm sure it sold gangbusters in Great Britain, as most Chemical Brothers merch did.

If there's anything that hampered this CD's general success, it was the fact there are only five indexed tracks. Eagle eye'd spotters may notice twenty-three listed tunes on the back, making this one of those mixes, where bits and pieces are spliced into hefty portions for maximum punch. Like, that mash of Freestyle's robo-vocals Don't Stop The Rock and Metro L.A.'s acid stomp To A Nation Rockin'... I can't hear one without the other anymore! Sure, it'd be handy to skip to specific spots on this CD, but that'd ruin its proper flow, now wouldn't it?

Other highlights? How about The Micronauts' utterly mental, over-driven remix of Block Rockin' Beats, practically right out the gate? It's almost too much awesome too soon, and one of the reasons I really can't ever go back to the original version, so tame in comparison. That, along with The Jazz being featured here, it's small wonder The 'Nauts had so much momentum going for them at the time. Fusing them with some juicy acid care of Sidewinder doesn't hurt either. Elsewhere, '70s funk and psychedelic soul get their looks in, while acid techno and big Meat Beat lock horns.

Yes, there's plenty of bedlam on Brothers Gonna Work It Out, but it also feels like they end the party too soon, the final stretch getting on that Private Psychedelic Reel vibe without playing the actual tune (which would be redundant coming off Dig Your Own Hole anyway). I suppose it works for a nice comedown, but this was a party I could have enjoyed 'till dawn's early light.

Ringo Sheena - Shōso Strip

Virgin: 2000

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I think we all have to come to grips that I'm woefully unqualified to talk about Japanese pop music with any sort of authoritative perspective. Yeah, I can appreciate, and even enjoy it, at a basic, superficial aesthetic level (sounds do good things on brain, me likey!), but I've no real insights or analysis to provide from the experience. Beyond what a couple Wiki links of information can offer (y'know, collegiate level research), there's very little I can explore or detail regarding the cultural impact of such music.

Like, I can get proper-deep regarding rave music, as I've been part of, digested, consumed, and researched nearly all facets of it for a quarter of a century now (a significant portion of my life indeed). And while I've covered other music genres or scenes I'm not so involved with (your alternative rock, your jazz-bop, your country twang), they're at least still prevalent enough in my sphere of the globe that I know enough about them via cultural osmosis. It's incredibly rare that mass market music from other (non English-speaking) artists ever had much impact here, no matter how successful they may have been elsewhere.

It's almost entirely thanks to the power of global social media that we've started seeing actual cultural cross-over in the Americas from the mega-stars of Japan and Korea. Even as I type this, my localized Twitter feed is blowing up about Wonho leaving MONSTA X (everything else is Halloween stuff). Let's face it, a newer, younger generation has discovered something they know their parents just won't understand. What better rebel music than music that's not even Caucasian, amirite? Nah, guy, there's just a lot of East Asian transplants in Vancouver.

Anyhow, Ringo Sheena (or Shiina Ringo, if you're Discoggian) turned quite a few heads upon her debut, a teenage wonder-kid who fused noisy Western rock with noisy Japanese rock, presented in that spiffy, over-the-top j-pop stylee everyone just thinks all Japanese pop music sounds like. Sales proved her a potential break-out star that could possibly make it big overseas, thus was immediately signed to the mighty Virgin empire, the quick follow-up Shōso Strip the result.

Almost too quickly, apparently, as the budding star felt the tracklist was too similar to her debut. I can dig that, as I felt like I was listening to Muzai Moratorium all over again with this one. Yeah, there's a few additional wrinkles here and there (ooh, techno thump-thumps in 浴室) and the song-writing comes off more polished than the first – the chaotic production is focused and targeted. Yet I still had to double-check I was listening to the correct album a couple times, unsure whether it was the first or second (didn't help my digital player couldn't convert kanji properly).

And sadly, I can't give any deeper analysis than that. As mentioned, I simply don't connect to this music beyond the superficial. Y'all would be better served listening to the Spotify link for your own conclusions.

Emiliana Torrini - Love In The Time Of Science

Virgin: 1999

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

I don't know much about Emiliana Torrini, but I've apparently heard her a couple times without realizing it. The most prominent example I've noticed in her 'Top Spotify Tracks' list is Gollum's Song, the closing credits theme to Lord Of The Rings: The Two Towers. Now, even though I didn't get the soundtracks for those films (as lush as they are), I know I've heard that song in full, as I've watched the end credits all the way through, and the extended editions! If nothing else than for the lovely sketch artwork included during the runtime. Or simple movie viewing inertia. Gotta'... see... to... the... END!

More than that though, I know I've heard Ms. Torrini as far back as this particular album, even though I didn't know it at the time – probably thought the song a Björk tune when I heard it (not without good reason to, more on which in a bit). I am, of course, talking about Summerbre- No, just kidding, it's Wednesday's Child, which is baffling to me because, according to Lord Discogs, there's almost no way I could have heard it so prominently. The album it came from, Love In The Time Of Science, had sprung half a dozen singles, not one of which was this particular tune. Yet, the gentle organ chords, orchestral swells, the lyrics in the chorus, the “ba-ba-ba ba, ba-ba-ba baaa” bridge... I know I've heard it before, and frequently, as though it was a minor radio hit back in the day. How? Where? Why??

Emiliana Torrini had released a few albums in her native Iceland prior to Love In The Time Of Science, plus provided vocals for GusGus, but for all intents this was her debut to a wider audience. Being that she hailed from the same country as Björk, and was signed to the same label as Björk, One Little Indian, it's not surprising that this album feels like her producers were trying to mould Ms. Torrini into a similar star. Especially as Björk had grown a tad too esoteric for pop radio by decade's end. Don't worry, folks, here's another Icelandic chanteuse doing singer-songwriter trip-hop! Not sure those were shoes Emiliana was eager to wear, especially as her following body of work generally steered further way from the trip-hop as heard here. Plenty of guest features and writing credits in that wake though.

The '90s certainly drip in Love In The Name Of Science, if that's any way to describe an album of singer-songwriter trip-hop. It sometimes comes off a little over-produced for the simple, intimate nature of the lyrics, though I never feel Emiliana is overshadowed by the orchestral flourishes or wall-of-sound rhythms. The gritty, chaotic guitar squall of Telepathy wouldn't hurt with a Tricky guest verse either. And yes, Summerbreeze does provide an acoustic outing for the whole album, like a gentle closing credits sequence to all that came before. Would be good for future consideration in soundtracks, especially if Björk isn't available.

Enigma - Age Of Loneliness

Virgin: 1994

This was kinda'-sorta' Enigma's lead single going into their second LP, The Cross Of Changes, though existing as Carly's Song at that point. And as it was produced between albums, it sounds more like a left-over from MCMXC a.D., utilizing all the musical tricks Michael Cretu turned into a global smash on such tracks like Sadeness and Mea Culpa: ethnic vocal sample, woodwinds, Sandra's whispery voice, heavy sexy rhythms. Not quite at his Return To Innocence stage, then, but what can you expect for something made specifically for the Sharon Stone erotic thriller Sliver?

In fact, Mr. Cretu was approached to score the whole movie. Makes sense, as his music – or more specifically, knock-offs of Sadeness - had been popping up in many Skinemax films throughout the early '90s. As Sliver was the hotly anticipated follow-up to Sharon Stone's star-making turn in Basic Instinct, an appropriately sexy-sounding soundtrack was required, so why not get the real deal? However, Cretu was already moving on from that sound, getting more in touch with the New Age side of his muse – less sensuality, more spirituality. He still offered up a song, Carly's Song (Carly was the name of Stone's character), and even had an artsy erotic music video made for it with Stone lip-syncing the lyrics. The movie critically bombed though, leaving that single a quirky footnote in the Enigma canon.

Fast forward a year, The Cross Of Changes comes out, and rather than letting Carly's Song sit fallow, Cretu gave it some light retouches, turning it into Age Of Loneliness for the album. There must have been enough buzz surrounding the track as heard there, for it was re-released as the third single from the album, and given a whole new video in support. This time, something MTV friendly, wide shots of a sepia Manhattan with superimposed people floating in water, as though hovering about a myriad of urban locales. I've had dreams like that.

As for the single itself, there's only two items of note, including Cretu's own clubby remix of the track. Though he has dabbled in uptempo tunes, we generally don't think of Enigma as a dancefloor friendly act, but the Enigmatic Club Mix offers a convincing argument in that favour. While not doing anything progressive house acts of the day hadn't already covered, it suitably grooves along while letting all the familiar elements play about as necessary. Plus, those beeps heard throughout are Morse Code for “I love you”, which is such a clever musical Easter Egg, I'm stunned we don't hear that gimmick more often.

But the reason folks from 'the underground' were interested in this single was the Jam & Spoon Remix. Aww, yeah, the original trance tastemakers, having a go at one of the most Enigma-tic tracks in Enigma's early career! This is gonna' be... uh, super chill, apparently. It's basically the same song, just stripped down, with a weird, soft, drippy rhythm. Gotta' give credit for subverting expectations, I guess.

Various - WipEout XL

Virgin: 1996

WipEout didn't introduce the world of gaming to electronic music, but it sure built one of the biggest, strongest bridges to its culture. The first game scored a coup in getting the legendary Designer's Republic to create its futuristic aesthetic, while Tim Wright of Psygnosis' music studio supplied several original techno and trance tracks that fit the vibe of racing at super-high speeds. It didn't hurt that a beta version of the game appeared in the 'raver' movie Hackers either.

Sensing they could do more nods to the burgeoning 'chemical generation', Psygnosis also licensed out a few tracks from prominent 'electronica' acts of the day, including Leftfield, The Chemical Brothers, and Orbital. This factoid wasn't seen as a major selling point for the game though, especially since the tracks never appeared on the American version of WipEout. When a sequel to the game was announced, however, the mighty Virgin realized they could license out a bunch of their signed acts to the game, giving them even greater exposure with a totally untapped gaming demographic. Throw in other 'rave culture' landmarks like Red Bull ads (when 'energy drinks' were still a new concept for the West) plus associated music videos, and you have one of the defining touchstones of 'electronica' in the '90s! Or just a fun racing game with kick-ass music.

I'm almost tempted to do two reviews of WipEout XL (aka: WipEout 2097), as the game version and soundtrack version do have differences. Most interestingly, the game features some ridiculously rare cuts from The Chemical Brothers and FSOL, not to mention the exclusive Cold Storage tunes from Mr. Wright. Maybe I'll save it for *gasp* video reviews.

As for the CD, the track list isn't too surprising if you know your mid-'90s 'electronica': We Have Explosive, Loops Of Fury, The Third Sequence, Afro Left, P.E.T.R.O.L., Firestarter, Atom Bomb. Actually, the Fluke single is somewhat different here, slower and with bigger beats than the video tie-in. Underworld is also repped, though by way of the ultra-fast, loopy Tin There (a sorta' remix of Pearl's Girl), and a remix of The Chem-Bros' Leave Home that somehow sounds nothing like either group.

Easily the most intriguing thing about this compilation are the two exclusive cuts that never appeared in either WipEout game: Source Direct's 2097 and Daft Punk's Musique. The former I can see either as a tune that didn't make into the game, or Photek getting his pals a little extra rub, being something of students of Mr. Parkes' approach to tech-step. That Daft Punk track though, it's totally a case of Virgin promoting one of their new acts. And why not, the French duo already making massive early buzz with their initial singles. Sure, Musique's “what if Plastikman did a house track?' vibe totally clashes with the rest of WipEout XL's roster of big beat, d'n'b, and Brit techno, but damn, feel that funky filtered low-end. Virgin's trick worked, as I couldn't wait to hear it on the forth-coming album!

Enigma - Voyageur

Virgin: 2003

I can't say Enigma fell off after this album, Michael Cretu having released three additional albums since, including one this past winter after an eight year absence. And while hard sales are no where near what was enjoyed at the start of this project, he's retained enough of a dedicated following that his streaming figures remain respectable (so sayeth The Spotify).

Yet ask casual electronic music followers these days what they think of those albums, and they'll answer you with “Who's Enigma?” Then you'll try to educate them on albums like MCMXC a.D., and singles like Return To Innocence, and maybe they'll mention hearing their moms play those when they were kids, to which you'll realize you're getting just so very old and want to retreat to comforting sounds. Like the familiar, seductive, soothing refrains of classic Enigma, yeah, that'll do the trick, and by the by, have they released anything new lately? Ooh, here's some stuff on Spotify, may as well check that out.

Not that I blame folks for figuring Engima's time had passed. By the fourth album, The Screen Behind The Mirror, it felt as though Mr. Cretu was stuck recycling old habits; at least even he recognized the sound had grown stale. Following a greatest hits package proclaiming closure on the first chapter of Enigma's story, he came out with this album, Voyageur, a stated deliberate change in direction and song-writing. What that was supposed to lead to remains anyone's guess.

Rather, the main talking points surrounding Voyageur almost always bring up what it lacks compared to Enigma of old. No more ethnic chants and Gregorian sampling, gone are the vintage woodwinds that always immediately identified a Michael Cretu production. Both “Curly” M.C. and his wife still provide a few vocals, but more vocalists have been added to the table too. In fact, this is the 'poppiest' Enigma's ever sounded, songs short, concise, and radio-ready should any of them catch on. Only two did, the titular cut and Boum-Boum, both dancier options. Not so dancey as Look Of Today though, with one of the catchiest hooks I've ever heard in the Enigma canon (and well it should, being an interpolation of ABC's The Look Of Love).

Elsewhere, Incognito gets rockier, Page Of Cups aims for a little chill-out compilation action (it failed), and tracks like Weightless and The Piano dip closer to the New Age side of Cretu's muse. Meanwhile, In The Shadow, In The Light and closer Follow The Sun shoot for the emotional, spiritual feels, and I can't say I'm getting the feels from them like other Enigma tunes. There's something lacking, the same strident confidence you'd hear from Cretu's production no matter how overblown the music could get. Maybe its the result of trying something different, a feeling-out process after so many years relying on familiar songcraft. And Voyageur is fine enough on that regard, but that's about the only lasting impression this album ever generated. Ain't no one humming Boum-Boum, even then.

Tangerine Dream - Rubycon

Virgin: 1975/1995

Often considered the definitive stamp of Berlin-School establishing itself as a Thing. Phaedra may have helped set the stage for synth wizards sequencing their synthesizers into outwordly compositions, but that album still had a little left-over psychedelic rock lurking too, with comparatively smallish pieces not so dependent on Moog manipulations. Rubycon does away with the short tunes altogether, serving up two lengthy tracks that would eat up the full running time of your standard ‘70s record side. Not that it was Tangerine Dream’s first tackling of this most pretentious of prog rock pretensions – their earlier experimental work with less synthesizers would drone on for complete A and B sides too. Heck, even Phaedra, the song, ate up one whole side of its record. Actually composing and performing such behemoths weren’t easy though, especially with archaic equipment like the Mellotron, Double Moog, Synthi A, Arp 2600, Vcs 2 Synthi, and gong. Simply putting the effort into one composition, then easing back into a few shorter works for the same album is totally understandable.

Tangerine Dream though, they were feeling mighty bold after the success of Phaedra - the plumb record sales that came with the Virgin deal undoubtedly helped ease whatever creative strain the trio might have faced. If one such track could earn them all the praise and plaudits, why not produce double the amount with their next effort? Surely Froese, Franke, and Baumann were now familiar enough with their toys and tools that, whatever kinks or troubles that might have occurred in the recording of Phaedra were well ironed out now. Indeed they were, Rubycon critically hailed as an even better album than Phaedra, though didn’t sell quite as well. Look, they can’t all be genre defining records.

Side A features Rubycon, Pt. 1, opening as most kraut albums of the day typically do: minimalist tones, vibrating timbre, weird ambience, placing the listening in a bizarre cosmic domain. Strings and soft voice pads eventually enter, followed by the pulsing sequencer and soaring spaced-out organs and synths most associate with the Berlin-School sound. Tune gently fades out with a few effects, and I can’t help but think of Pink Floyd’s One Of These Days as it does. I’m sure the similarities are entirely coincidental; no way prog musicians style-bit one another, nosiree.

On the flip of my CD, Rubycon, Pt. 2 opts for a creepier start than its predecessor, with discordant Mellotron choirs intoning some alien ritual. The rhythmic synths kick in much earlier in this piece, building in prominence as additional synth solos with delay effects join the fray. The final third is mostly taken up by calm, modern classical doodling, all the while maintaining Tangerine Dream’s outworldy aesthetic. Feel free to make the requisite 2001: A Space Odyssey comparison at any point as Pt. 2 plays.

Naturally, Rubycon’s yet another Very Important Album in electronic music's every growing history. The inspiration and imitation of many future producers is difficult to miss in this one.

Massive Attack - Blue Lines

Virgin: 1991/2012

So Blue Lines, the album that kicked off Tricky’s career. Yeah, sorry for the lame intro, but all the good ones were used in the past two decades. The “Few Records Deserve The ‘Seminal’ Tag, But This One Truly Does” angle; the “Once In A Blue Moon, A New Genre Is Born” take; the “Would Bristol Be Such A Prominent ‘90s Music Hub Without Blue Lines?” thinkpiece; a “If You Listen To Five Man Army Carefully, You Can Hear Subliminal Banksy Messages!” waffle. But man, that Tricky guy, where would he be without Massive Attack? Like, I’m sure he’d have gotten an album or two under his belt regardless, but his work with this group certainly gave him a boost.

Okay, enough malarkey on my part. Let’s talk about this most important record in trip-hop history, despite it barely having any trip-hop in it at all. There’s definitely early aspects of the genre lurking throughout – tracks like Five Man Army, Daydreaming, and One Love feature that slow, hazy mood the genre built its reputation on. This is more a product of Massive Attack incorporating several urban influences into their sound though, which included reggae dub popularized by many a Jamaican expat residing in London. And while Bristol’s music scene was generally their own thing, the dudes behind Massive Attack were more than familiar with what was what in the elsewheres of their country. All that time as part of The Wild Bunch sound system crew provided plenty exposure to various musical movements, leading to the varied genre blending heard throughout Blue Lines. Not just the spliff-heavy hip-hop, but R&B, reggae, funk, and soul find their way inside this tidy nine-tracker of a record, often within the same song. It’s easy to hear why music journalists were creaming their pants over this album, thrilled at hearing so many classy forms of music expertly fused into a groovy whole.

And yet I wonder, was this really that big a deal back in the early ‘90s? Seems every second British album from across the spectrum was doing something radically different in genre fusion. I’ll grant adding dub production to hip-hop beats was unique compared to what America was doing, but this wasn’t exclusive to trip-hop in the slightest: ambient, house, techno, R&B (rock?), all got in on that action too. More often than not, Massive Attack stick to conventional music, sparingly pushing the boundaries into uncharted territory. Be Thankful For What You’ve Got is the sort of UK soul peddled for a few years then. Unfinished Sympathy, the breakout single of the album, has New Jack Swing going for it, though obviously drenched in gospel charm.

Still, if those are about the only nitpicks I can fault Blue Lines for, then this album’s reputation is more than deserved. Considering many ‘dance’ albums from this era are way dated, this one easily stands the test of time, its multitude of influences making it a timeless piece of music.

Massive Attack - Mezzanine

Virgin: 1998

The only Massive Attack album you probably have, despite many critics pointing to their other albums as the ones you’re supposed to have. Not sure what the consensus between Blue Lines and Protection is, though I’m almost certain the group’s (duo’s?) post-millennium material is generally held in lesser regard than Mezzanine. This one smacks right in the middle of the transition, but due to the super aggressive marketing the mighty Virgin machine did for the album, critics can’t help themselves in being contrarian, pointing to an earlier effort as the definitive Massive Attack experience. Back when they were still a tightly-knit band that included burgeoning vocalist wunderkind Tricky as part of their roster. Back when they were laying the groundwork for an entire genre, and not simply cashing in when trip-hop was at its peak of prominence.

Hah, no, Mezzanine isn’t a cash-in, though Massive Attack definitely got mad paid here. Angel and Teardrop are among the most heavily licensed tracks in their discography, only losing out to Unfinished Sympathy for top honors; and that one had a seven year start on these two. On the other hand, additional singles Risingson and Inertia Creeps weren’t anywhere near as successful, the latter failing to chart even in the UK. Considering how trendy trip-hop was in the late ‘90s, with Teardrop hitting Top 10 in Massive Attack’s homeland that same year, it’s surprising such popularity didn’t translate into further success for their singles. D’at album sales number, tho’! Were Teardrop and Angel enough to propel Mezzanine into the stratosphere of platinum accolades? Yeah, but all those critical awards the album earned after needed strong songs to prop it up, and we have those in spades too.

Right, I quipped Mezzanine not being as critically hailed as their earlier records, but Massive Attack didn’t earn those ‘one of the greatest bands of all time’ plaudits in a vacuum. When tasked against their contemporaries, the original Bristol posse was nigh untouchable, always uttered with just that extra bit of reverence when compared to the likes of Portisehead and Morcheeba. The fact Massive Attack could come in at trip-hop’s apogee and release such a smooth flowing, densely dark album like Mezzanine is nothing less than brilliance. In lieu of the multitude of copycats, Robert del Naja (Mr. 3D) desired taking the group closer to the realms of post-rock - out of the domain of dubby-thick hip-hop that defined the genre they’d built. The move paid off, broadening the band’s appeal into the world of indie music and movie scores. It also gave them room to further explore their sound, fusing gritty guitar tones and cinematic flourishes with their vintage big beats, dense reverb, and somber urban soul, generally keeping each track fresh and unique throughout for a required playthrough.

Not everyone was on board with this development, original member Andrew “Mushroom” Vowles leaving Massive Attack after this. The enduring popularity and lasting legacy of Mezzanine suggests ol’ 3D was onto something special though. Dream on.

A Perfect Circle - Thirteenth Step

Virgin: 2003

Remember two years ago (!) when I reviewed Tool’s Ænima, wherein I also mentioned checking out the spin-off band A Perfect Circle? It was all that hype, see, Virgin’s marketing muscle promising a stellar new alternative band, one that would change the landscape of rock’s domain for years to come. Yeah, whatever, I’m busy digging into all that Wu-Tang Clan backlog, y’know, not to mention my continued quest in gathering whatever electronic music I could to my music shop of the hinterwaylands near Haida Gwaii. Still, that cover of Mer De Noms looked cool, sitting there in stacks of six, awaiting pick-ups from eager CD buyers. Some of our clientele had clued me into neat acts before, which I’d have missed otherwise. Maybe this one, what with that Chris Carter’s Millennium style artwork going for it, will have something intriguing within. After playing a few songs though, I shrugged with an indifferent ‘meh’, then went about replaying a nifty DJ mix from some Turbo label.

The media blitz for the follow-up Thirteenth Step aside, I pretty much forgot about A Perfect Circle, the band’s music falling well outside my listening habits. Over time though, I’ve made friends with those who do include alternative rock music into their daily diets. Friends who’ve eagerly quaffed from Tool and Perfect Circle goblets. Friends who were looking to offload CDs, of which I eagerly quaffed from their collections into mine. Thus here I am reviewing more music from Maynard James Keenan, a proposition I never thought happening again.

Actually, to call A Perfect Circle a Keenan project isn’t accurate in the slightest. He may provide the bulk of lyrics and pipes to support them, but the genesis behind the band lies with Billy Howerdel, who’d spent his time prior mostly tuning guitars for Tool. Billy’s demos impressed Keenan so much that he requested being the new band’s frontman, with a who’s-who of ‘90s rock musicians rotating in and out since Perfect Circle’s formation (James Iha, Twiggy Ramirez, Troy van Leeuwen, Josh Freese, and others). Man, no wonder Thirteenth Step reminds me so much of a ‘90s album, especially for a 2003 release, when garage rock, emo-punk, post-grunge, and nu-metal were ruling the world of rock.

And I cannot deny, this is a darn good album. Melodic and melancholic for the most part, sporadically heavy and urgent as needed, with Keenan’s singing quite enjoyable so removed from pretentious Tool trappings. Thirteenth Step essentially chronicles the crippling effects of addiction, from its enticing allure to the crushing fall, with a small hope of recovery at the end. Though a few tracks stand out on their own, it’s an album that works best as a long-play, especially with the lingering bit of guitar hanging in the air at the end of final track Gravity. It feels like there’s more to follow, maybe even a secret song. And you wait for that release… waiting… waiting… For a proper follow-up album that never materialized. So cruel, this longing…

Snoop Dogg - Tha Last Meal

Virgin: 2000

Though Snoop Dogg’s commercial revival with The Neptunes was still a few years off, the Long Beach resident was seeing a significant turnaround in his career when this album came out. Hot off the heels of the epic Up In Smoke tour and classic spots on Dr. Dre’s 2001: The Re-Chronikling, those who figured Mr. Broadus had lost the plot in joining No Limit Records were lured back by the promise of a return to Westcoast G-funk roots in Tha Last Meal. Technically, he’d already made those reconnections in his prior album, No Limit Top Dogg, but after the poorly received (yet two-times Platinum selling!) Da Game Is To Be Sold, Not To Be Told, you can forgive folks being wary of anything else ol’ Snoops would put out on Master P’s print.

Well, worry not, for he’s got Dr. Dre in the studio for three cuts on Tha Last Meal …which is the same as Top Dogg. Ah, well, we also get Dre-blessed Scott Storch in here, plus Snoop-blessed Meech Wells, and Westcoast alums DJ Battlecat and Soopafly. Also, in a remarkable coup, Timbaland, at the peak of his powers, provides two cuts, including Set It Off, an absolute banger of a track. The only No Limit Records representation is second-to-last track Back Up Off Me, with all the dirty South gang vocals, cussin’, and cheap beats you’d expect from the label. It’s also the dumbest cut out of seventeen. Shock, I know.

So music wise, we’re firmly in Westcoast G-funk land throughout, and hey, Snoop’s brought in a bunch of his buddies from the region too. Kokane takes up the bulk of guest spots, doing warbly croons in choruses. Nate Dogg gets in a few verses, including a wonderful little ditty in Set It Off. Long time Dogg Pound associate Butch Cassidy also shows up, and Snoop’s gotta’ get his short-lived posse Tha Eastsidaz in there somewhere. In a surprise spot, N.W.A. alum MC Ren and Ice Cube drop some bars in the awesome Set If Off (have I mentioned how dope this track is enough?). And through all this sausage fest, Eastcoast star Eve has a great tag-up with Snoop in Ready 2 Ryde, while another Westcoast legend, The Lady Of Rage, shows up in… wait for it… Set It Off!

So how’s ol’ Snoop on the mic, then? He’s still a gangsta’, still down with DPG, still smokin’ that endo, playa’-hatin’ hoes, and all that. Vintage Snoop, though a couple things do lyrically date Tha Last Meal. One, there’s a lot of Bill Clinton quips, because late ‘90s. Two, he’s dropping hints of a career less centered on rapping, and being a business mogul instead, including owning his own label, producing new talent, and the whole shebang. While that all came true after a fashion, it seemed he was more thinking of hanging up the mic for good, hence Tha Last Meal. Then along came a Pharrell, and put to rest that plan.

Tangerine Dream - Stratosfear

Virgin: 1976

A significant album in the Tangerine Dream discography, this one. For most of their early existence, the group Edgar Froese built willfully, skillfully, and probably stonedley indulged in all the wayward freeform excesses psychedelic rock could bring them. Then they brought in synthesizers, adding to their sonic possibilities, even abandoning traditional instruments altogether for a brief while, ushering in the nascent Berlin School of krautrock. Through it all, you’d be hard-pressed to hear anything resembling a catchy hook or hummable melody, because who’s got time for that when you’re constructing alien soundscapes for a receptive, tripped-out audience? That all changed with Stratosfear, in particular with the titular opener where several very memorable, very obvious melodies emerge as the ten minute piece unfolds. What were Tangerine Dream doing, aiming for higher chart action with this?

Perhaps a little. No doubt that Virgin deal gained them much wider recognition the world abroad, but even other forms of lengthy, sequenced synth music was gaining popularity. Along with plenty other Germans getting in on the act, you also had Frenchmen (Jarre), Greeks (Vangelis), Japanese (Tomita), British (all them prog rockers), and even Americans (Synergy) having a go with various amounts of success. As many of these musician adhered to a more modern classical approach to the craft, they had no problem injecting melodies and leitmotifs into their compositions. Naturally, for Tangerine Dream to keep pace and not be left in krautrock obscurity like Can and Cluster, they’d have to take a similar approach to their works as well. Thus Stratosfear comes off like a long-lost piece of baroque on par with their synth manipulating contemporaries. Or the group just wanted to try something different.

Worry not, ol’ ye’ old-school Tangerine Fans of old, for the rest of this album has them harkening back to the ancient times of traditional instruments as well. The Big Sleep In Search Of Hades melds synths with harpsichords, plus out comes the flute again! Man, it’d been a while since the Dream Team of Tangerines used that little pipe. The song itself has some folksy charm to it, sounding like the sort of music you might hear in a fantasy movie from the ‘70s. Oh yeah, Tangerine Dream were set to do their first ever film score for the movie Sorcerer the next year.

The second half of Stratosfear plays more to the group’s freeform music making, though even these compositions have more structure going on than prior works. 3 AM At The Border Of The Marsh From Okefenokee is another work that wouldn’t sound out of place in a movie during a tension-filled scene of sneaking across fields. Lastly, Invisible Limits runs through various sequences of quiet synths and flutes, pulsing prog rock jams, abstract experimental diddling, and a peaceful denouement of piano and flute: a condensed summation of Tangerine Dream, then.

Stratosfear isn’t the definitive Tangerine Dream album, but it is a good blend of their seminal work with the poppier leanings they’d go in later years.

Photek - Solaris

Virgin: 2000

Photek’s Solaris is almost legendary in how it divided a jungle nation. It didn’t have to be so. Drum ‘n’ bass was in fine shape at the turn of the millennium, though could have used more of Mr. Parkes’ refined approach to the craft of intelligent tech-step drum programming. Despite a few doing their own spin on the Photek stylee, (word to the Source Direct crew, yo'), other producers weren’t replicating it en masse. Still, for as generally healthy the d'n'b scene was, it had lost much of the commercial and critical clout it once earned in the '90s, Mr. Parkes' absence perhaps partly responsible for those dwindling times. That junglists were expecting- nay, counting upon another Modus Operani to remind the general club 'n' rave populace of their chosen sound's supreme standing is understandable. No less so, then, the betrayal many felt when Photek said nuts to all that, going his own way down paths no true junglists ever dared ventured.

An ocean and sky blue cover notwithstanding, fans had to suspect something was up when lead single Terminus dropped. Also the opener on Solaris, it’s a seriously funky outing with banging and clanking drum work, sounding more like some of Orbital’s output than much of Photek’s prior work (seriously though, that bass drop in the middle!). Infinity was more in line with the sort of tech-step d’n’b heads enjoyed from Mr. Parkes though, so perhaps the full album would offer up more like it. Oh, such innocent thoughts those were.

Second track Junk carries on with the Terminus style, though creeping much closer to techno’s realm than Photek had wandered before. Then Glamourama hits and, oh my God, it’s a house beat! How dare he! How dare he! How dare he? Wait, why is my head bobbin’? Ergh, argh, must. Resist. Deep. Groove.

Haha, foolish junglist, Photek has you in his house clutches now, and to keep you there, here’s Mine To Give, as vintage a Chicago throwback as you could get in the year 2000, including a guest vocal from Robert Owens, a singer featured on many classic Trax Records tracks. As if throwing a bone to the ‘deebee’ faithful, Can’t Come Down gets back to the d’n’b side of things, though on a much chiller scale than anything heard in the Photek discography before. Was he daring LTJ Bukem to play one of his records? The second half of Solaris isn’t nearly as dynamic as the first, if anything flickering down with more claustrophobic house (Solaris) and trip-hop (Halogen, Lost Blue Heaven), but hoo, what an impression side one imparted.

Of course, given this would be the last Photek album for over a decade, the vitriol leveled on Solaris faded, folks wondering if he’d ever drop another LP again. Mr. Parkes would occasionally return to jungle in that time, and his genre explorations garnered him more respect abroad for taking such a chance with his music, succeeding even in the face of predictable backlash.

µ-Ziq - Royal Astronomy

Virgin: 1999

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tangerine Dream - Phaedra

Virgin: 1974/1995

I've got a hundred angles to approach this with, and I'm stumped on every single one of them. Guess that’s why I'm going with the “I'm stumped in how to approach this” opener, wasting valuable self-imposed word count in the process. Tangerine Dream's history, their lasting inspiration on future producers of ambient and experimental synth-pop (!), even specific details surrounding the release of Phaedra: all better options in starting this review with. Nope, I gotta' make this all about me and my dilemma. How selfish.

But also a disclaimer. Though I've listened to some Tangerine Dream and assorted solo works from various members and contributors (Christopher Franke, Klaus Schulze, Michael Hoenig, Ulrich Schnauss), Phaedra is the only album I've thus attained. I intend to gain more down the road, but I had to start somewhere, and Phaedra is generally considered the Tangerine Dream album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Tangerine Dream fan. I think the only reason it got that status is from the fact it was their first album released on Virgin, so has had the longest-running significant PR behind it. Easy enough to pluck tracks from here for those ambient compilations the label put together in the early ‘90s, right? Instant importance established, especially upon a newly reinvigorated ambient scene owing quite a bit to the groundwork these guys paved.

Without boring you with minute details (as any Wikipedia entry should suffice), what elevates Phaedra above so much other Berlin-School krautrock was the way these guys manipulated sequencers into something free-flowing and improvisational. Many would replicate and even improve upon what was accomplished here, but the Phaedra and Movements Of A Visionary sessions captured a moment of exceptional creativity on the participants’ part (founder Edgar Froese, Franke, and Peter Baumann). With a bubbly synth-pulse as a guiding rudder, Phaedra moves through spacious alien terrain, floating kosmic music, and eerie lands of the unknown. Movements, at half Phaedra’s length, serves as something of a b-side, exploring similar musical ideas but with less emphasis on creating outworldly atmosphere.

Two other tracks make up this album, another lengthy piece titled Mysterious Semblance At The Strand Of Nightmares, and a short sonic doodle at the end called Sequent ‘C’. The latter isn’t of much interest, unless you’re totally down for Baumann’s dark flute action. The former, on the other hand, has more in common with modern classical of the time than space synth and minimalism. Ol’ Edgar gets most of the composing credit for that piece, and it shows, lacking the musically creative melting pot the other tracks have. It’s a fine example of the genre (Tomita must have been impressed), but not as dynamic as Phaedra and Movements.

This album is unquestionably required listening for all folks interested in ambient music. It’s also rather spiffy for spliff sessions, as I’m sure some egg-headed sorts indulged in back in the ‘70s. Imagine hearing this for the first time in those years, eh? Schrägesten musik, mann!

Speedy J - G Spot (& !ive)

Virgin Music Canada: 1995

The only Speedy J album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Speedy J fan. I mean, who can argue with G Spot? It’s got future-cast techno, lovely ambient, big beaty electro, and even (whisper it) classic trance. Throw in the !ive CD that was released the same year as a double-disc package, and you’ve got yourself a definitive collection of mid-‘90s electronic music that many point to as essential Jochem Paap listening. Ginger? Definitely strong, but a bit stuck in early ‘90s mode and still playing by Detroit’s iron-clad rules. Public Energy No. 1 or A Shocking Hobby? He pushed himself for creative challenges, which is good, but in the process pushed away a number of fans he earned with his early work, which is bad. Loudboxer? Yeah... no – it’s a fun album for what it is, but far too musically singular for any but the most die-hard of techno heads. Many key tracks off G Spot and !ive have appeared on compilations and DJ mixes (erm, and music guides), especially the prog jocks who wanted a little techno roughness to go with their melodic grooves and constructs.

So G Spot it is then. Is that hesitation I sense though? Need a little convincing, do you? Since its kinda’ what I’m supposed to do with this blog, I shall tickle your most potent of music pleasure centers with what you’ll find on here …uh, in word form. In a totally non-threatening, respectful manner, if you want to that is. I suck at game.

Anyhow, this album features ten tracks, some long, some not. Mr. Paap opens with typical branches of techno that was making the rounds of the mid-‘90s: something a little jazzy with The FUN Equations, Ping Pong feeling the sci-fi electro, and Fill 25 has spaced-out acid groove. These all owe more than a debt to Detroit’s lineage, and though these are fine tunes, they aren’t that far of a stretch from what the various giants of that scene were up to. What’s G Spot’s big deal, eh?

Then Lanzarote and Extruma make themselves felt, ambient at its most lush – just eleven solid minutes of bliss. The only way to follow upon such a sequence is by hitting the listener with fat funky acid breaks as conceived by space station robots, but workers out at The Oil Zone will work too. Treatments comes off rather inconsequential after that, but it leads wonderfully into another great ambient interlude with Fill 17, which serves as a perfect respite before going back into the space acid techno-trance in the titular cut. Cap off with a final bit of cinematic ambient music in Grogno, and you’ve yourself an instant classic of the ‘90s. And then you can enjoy it some more on !ive, plus a couple older cuts (Symmetry, Pepper)and exclusives like Fusion, Scare Tactics. Yes, it’s the same Fusion that appeared on Northern Exposure 2, and the whole CD’s got music in that vein. No more excuses, mang.