Photek - Modus Operandi

Virgin Music Canada: 1997

Along with Goldie's Timeless and Roni Size/Reprazent's New Forms, Rupert Parkes' debut Photek LP Modus Operandi established itself among the first drum 'n bass albums you were supposed to have, even if you weren't a d'n'b fan. That was back in the mid-'90s though, when journalist interest in the scene was high, and LP options were low, Modus Operandi one of the few finding any sort of cross-over attention. It didn't hurt Photek's prospects that he signed to Virgin, at the height of 'electronica's promotion abroad. You couldn't miss this album on shelves because the mega-label paid good money for that space.

In hindsight, it's astounding someone saw mainstream marketability in Photek. His style, one of precision tech-step drum programming, spacious sound design, and bleak industrial imagery was so unique for the jungle scene, no one's come near replicating it – those drumfunk guys are heavily inspired by it though. There were far easier sub-sets of '90s d'n'b a casual listener could get into – jump-up, atmospheric, even ragga – so all the more amazing tunes like Ni-Ten-Ichi-Ryu and The Third Sequence got airtime on Amp or R U Receiving, much less Virgin’s blessing.

Also understandable, then, is why so many folks remain forlorn that Parkes hasn't seen much need to return to this style of music. I’m not sure there was anywhere left to go, though; even with an unparalleled sound, Modus Operandi soon runs thin on ideas. Opener The Hidden Camera gets things off on a chill, mysterious note, then we’re off to the sparse tech-step business for a long run of tracks, some of which are almost carbon copies of each other. Seriously, the difference between Smoke Rings and Trans 7 is marginal at best, but since they’re separated by half an album, you barely notice it on a play-through. Between the two tracks, there’s a lot of piercing synths, lean melodies, and cool drum work. Though not a slog, Minotaur, Aleph 1, groovier 124, and minimalist ‘sci-fi-step’ Axiom feels like you’re trapped in a dry, computer wasteland, a single glass of water always just on the horizon of sight. You keep pushing forward, the surrounding scenery at least fascinating as you traverse this desert of tech-step paranoia.

The titular cut offers a smooth slice of acid jazz, and KJZ shows Parkes getting his ambient-techno/braindance/IDM wonk on. The latter’s apparently a tribute to Kirk Degiorgio, an individual I haven’t the slightest clue about, though anyone who uses Beetlejuice as an alias is ace in my books. Then Modus Operandi ends on a limp note with The Fifth Column, the B-side to Ni-Ten-Ichi-Ryu, and nowhere near as interesting as that cut.

Which sums up this album, sadly. Most of Photek’s seminal work is left off here, and despite sounding unlike anything else, Parkes goes through the motions of this style just a bit too often throughout. If anything, it’s typical of most drum ‘n bass LPs of the time, only with a fuck-ton more promotion than his brethren ever received.

Eurythmics - 1984 (For The Love Of Big Brother)

Virgin: 1984

It's a shoe-in, I tell ya', a shoe-in! Making a movie based on a book set upon a specific year, who could resist a chance at producing such a sure thing? What does it matter if the über-fascist society George Orwell created in 1984 never came to pass in 1984 – you can get away with an 'alternate reality' movie! Better make sure it hits theatres on time though, otherwise you'll look silly releasing a movie titled 1984 in the year 1985, or heaven forbid even later (suck it, 1956). Yep, only one chance at it. Don't let Big Brother down.

While the movie turned out a success, it didn't come without its share of controversy. Little to do with the actual content, mind you, although I'm sure more than a few folks found the Room 101 scenes squeamish. Nay, the main kerfuffle involved the soundtrack, specifically how two different scores were commissioned without either composer knowing about it.

The director, Michael Radford, had tapped orchestral writer Dominic Muldowney for music, while Almighty Virgin, which financed the film, wanted Eurythmics instead, pissing Radford off. Hey, can’t blame the director in feeling his vision was compromised by record suits, especially with Virgin editing the music cues with both scores as they saw fit. Stewart and Lennox, however, were apparently never made aware of the original score, and thus were caught off-guard by Radford’s ire. Compounding matters was Virgin toying with Eurythmics’ recordings for the LP release, making the soundtrack album as commercially viable as possible with nice, acceptable synth-pop versions of the score. Virgin probably figured they’d have their own Flashdance on their hands. No such luck, me buckos, 1984 (For The Love Of Big Brother) generating one single in Sexcrime, far from a memorable Eurythmics’ hit.

It’s best forgetting the politics involved with developing this album and regard 1984 as a concept LP Stewart and Lennox crafted on a lark, especially since little of their music as heard on this CD did end up in the film. All the icy-cool synth-pop awesome of Eurythmics’ glory years are present, with Lennox cooing on upbeat tracks Sexcrime (banned from Bible Belt airwaves!) and For The Love Of Big Brother, funkier jazz-scat in I Did It Just The Same, and charming ballad Julia. One thing that unfortunately dates these tunes is the use of a vocal sampler on Lennox’ voice, stiffly chopping it at various points (especially for Sexcrime), but it’s a quibble easily bypassed.

Besides, the true awesome of 1984 are the instrumentals, where Lennox’s non-lyrical singing becomes another tool instead of the centrepiece, and sure to surprise anyone only familiar with Eurythmics’ radio hits. Brief ambient interlude Winston’s Diary aside, the remaining tracks drive with mechanical, tribal rhythms and choking electronic soundscapes. Doubleplusgood’s incredibly ear-wormy, Ministry Of Love beautifully captures techno-futurism, and final track Room 101’s suitably menacing as it drags the album to its end with a final slam of iron doors. Chilling.

Enigma - MCMXC a.D.

Virgin: 1990/1999

While purists may balk at the idea of Enigma's debut being one of the most important electronic albums ever, it's hard to deny its lasting influence on various scenes. An immediate hit with both mainstream New Age types and underground S&M sorts, it kicked off an insane amount of copycats, figuring lumping any ol' chant with a bare-bone electronic rhythm would produce similar chart success. A few did in the ensuing years, but none to the degree that Michael Cretu accomplished with MCMXC a.D.

The album’s appeal truly was a case of everything falling into the right place at the right time. For one, New Age was sweeping middle-America, so anything with soothing, meditative pads had a good chance of gaining some crossover interest. Second, with eroticism sweeping middle-America thanks to movies like 9½ Weeks, folks were far more accepting of risqué concepts like Sadeness, Mea Cupla, and Principles Of Lust. Hell, a title like Sadeness should have turned heads alone, and here it was tearing up the charts while couples tore off their clothes as seductive French voices and ethnic woodwinds played out (mind, confusion over the title likely helped divert controversy). Key to its timelessness, however, are the Gregorian chants, as few things suggest chaste traditions as readily as Catholicism. The incredibly taboo combination of seduction and piety made these tunes hits with fetishists, soundtracking many a sex club ...if Single White Female is accurate, anyway. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before every Skinemax flick starring Shannon Tweed was style-biting Enigma’s sound, rendering it cliche; thus its small surprise Mr. Cretu mostly abandoned the eroticism by his second album.

As for the rest of MCMXC a.D., the other single off here was The Rivers Of Belief, which retains most of the elements of Sadeness, though opts for New Age platitudes instead. As a closer that bookends the album, it works, but likely due to Cretu’s singing, it’s not as fondly remembered as the other hits off here. Knocking On Forbidden Doors is a surprising little gem of an instrumental though, kind of a b-side to Mea Culpa and getting downright trance at times. Not sure what The Voice & The Snake was about, besides being the oddest interlude in Enigma’s discography. The sun turned cold? What is this, the apocalypse?

When the album was re-issued in 1999, it came bundled with a bonus EP containing the original remixes of Sadeness and Mea Culpa, none of which are terribly interesting. Fading Shades Mix of Mea Culpa mashes the latter’s vocals onto Rivers Of Belief, and that’s about as all worth checking out if you’re curious.

Whatever preconceived notions you might have regarding Enigma’s general career (*cough*cheesyworldbeatNewAgebollocks*cough*), it shouldn’t deter you from checking out MCMXC a.D.. You’ve likely heard the music over the years, and will likely hear it again. Despite often being imitated, Enigma’s debut remains as unique and timeless as the day it came out. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if Sadeness still plays in S&M dungeons. Can anyone confirm this?

Various - Macro Dub Infection, Volume 1

Virgin: 1995

Before he was turning dancehall heads as The Bug, Kevin Martin paid his flat money compiling a few CDs for Virgin Records. His first was the fourth volume of Virgin's double-disc ambient series showcasing acts from the genre's lengthy history, most of the prior volumes culling material from Virgin's own extensive back catalogue. Having exhausted all the familiar names though, they turned to Mr. Martin for his expertise on most things avant-garde, experimental, and dubby. Not sure what prompted Virgin’s show of faith in an oddball post-rocker, but his selections must have impressed the label enough to give him his own short-lived series, Macro Dub Infection. Or maybe Virgin just wanted in on that 'ambient dub house' trend The Orb spearheaded. Way to be late to the game, guys!

Still, Pre-Bug didn’t follow that rule by a long shot. Instead, he gathered up two CDs worth of dub-influenced music from across the electronic board. Some names and tunes are about as you’d expect from a compilation style-biting Beyond’s gimmick. Opener The Struggle Of Life from The Disciple hits all those classic ambient reggae-dub vibes, and other familiar jams from 2 Badcard, Rootsman, Automaton (Bill Laswell under his eight-zillionth alias) round out a first half of tunes most likely expected of a compilation titled Marcro Dub Infection. What’s that atmospheric jungle cut from Spring Heel Jack doing at the second position though? Yeah, there’s plenty of dubby affects at work in there, but no one said this was a drum ‘n’ bass collection too. Wait, Omni Trio’s on this as well? Pft, if you think that’s odd, get a load of classic industrial group Coil getting in on this action; not to mention indie post-rockers Tortoise, IDM wonk Bedouin Ascent, and ill trip-hoppers Skull vs. Ice. And that’s just CD1!

Frankly, ol’ Kev’ going off the proper deep end by showing off even the most tangently dub music out there (it’s an infection upon all musics!) is about the best way he could have put this together. Retreading the reggae-roots style so many others had before would be utterly redundant in 1995, and plenty others were filling in other aspects of dub (Planet Dog’s got the ethno-psy-dub covered, mang). Better to show off acts few would associate with the macro-genre while you have the chance.

Most interesting are the tracks by names that might have lured potential buyers based on chart recognition. The Paranormal In 4 Forms finds breaks pioneers 4 Hero running the gamut of ambient, trip-hop, jungle, and even classic techno in a span of eight minutes. Elsewhere on CD2, Tricky goes all weird abstraction with Ambient Pumpkin (oh hi, Goldfrapp). And I’ll take the ambient techno-dub style of Bandulu’s Come Forward any day, mainly because Macro Dub Infection’s the only place one can find this track.

In fact, there’s quite a few exclusives and rarities on this collection, just another of its selling points. Variety of music and extensive liner notes of dub’s history aren’t bad incentives either.

µ-Ziq - Lunatic Harness

Virgin: 1997

Aphex Twin was the king of IDM. Squarepusher was the revolutionary (yes, even among revolutionaries). µ-Ziq was the guy that got to hang out with them, taking on their styles, even carving out his own niche in the process. The man from Planet Mu never quite hit their highs, though during the ‘electronica’ boom, I’m sure some record executives figured they’d have another Come To Daddy success on their hands by signing Mike Paradinas. Virgin plucked the µ-Ziq man up for his fourth full-length, and the results were about as you’d expect an IDM wonk making a crossover: charming, challenging, seductive, abhorrent, and just plain nuts.

Right off the first track, Brace Yourself Jason, you can hear the lineage: frenetic jazz-fusion rhythms that made Tom Jenkinson such a darling with fans of challenging techno, coupled with those ambient pads that made many a Rickity Da Jam-Man tune sound so utterly alien. It’s a cool track, though not really distinctive of µ-Ziq - not that I know exactly what is Paradinas’ distinct sound, as I’ve only two albums worth, including this one. If I’d make a guess, however, he shows more love for the classical side of IDM, the sort of music inspired by Mozart and the like (say, would Amadeus be an IDM wonk of his era?). Many of the subsequent tracks feature cute, elegant melodies as played on synths that one suspects were formerly in the hands of modern classicalist composers of the ‘70s. Not an entirely unique approach to music-making then, but definitely innovative when complemented with equally infantile hip-hop rhythms.

Wait, wasn’t this supposed to be a crossover album (probably not)? Very well, here’s some of that trendy ‘drum and bass’ stuff, though clearly on the agro-tip with Approaching Menace. This tune’s what it would have sounded like if Dillinja really went fucking evil; less bass-bin punishment, more feral nastiness, and all distortion on those snares. In case that’s too much for you, µ-Ziq offers a few pleasant atmospheric tunes as a follow-up, bridging the gap between IDM’s breakcore and jungle’s amen breaks.

The back end of Lunatic Harness is mostly experimental stuff, including aggravating industrial-noise nonsense in Wannabe, a total Aphex Twin jump with London, and some orchestral glitch to finish off in Midwinter Log (I bet Lodsb was paying attention). Thus wraps up my generic recap of what goes down in this album.

There’s a great deal of variety here; unfortunately, it doesn’t make for much of a cohesive listen. That’s often a problem with these IDM full-lengths: the producers have so many ideas bubbling in their wacky heads, they’ll struggle crafting an LP that can be enjoyed front-to-back. The classics are obviously the exceptions, and while Lunatic Harness was well-received by this particular scene, it’s remained in the realms of EDM niche to this day. Still, I can’t think of a better µ-Ziq album to get your feet wet with. Give it a shot if you’re curious about Mr. Paradinas’ output.

The Future Sound Of London - Lifeforms

Virgin Music: 1994

The Future Sound Of London always struck me as an odd group, and as I didn't come around to them until their Dead Cities period, I had some catching up to do. The club-friendly material off Accelerator was an easy introduction to the sounds they were capable of, but Lifeforms seemed daunting. A double-LP with nary a recognizable hit in the tracklist? Goodness, what's a young raver taking his first, tentative steps into this weird, wide electronic music world to do? I mean, this must be a good album, if all those old-schoolers are loving it, though they don't talk of it as much as Papua New Guinea or We Have Explosives. Still, really cool looking cover art...

So yeah, Lifeforms was the last of the First Three FSOL albums I picked up, but it wasn’t that long after getting the other two; thus, I’ve had plenty of time to listen, re-listen, analyze, contemplate, and understand Dougans and Cobain’s weird ambient opus. I’m still working on that. For that matter, who isn’t? I wouldn’t go so far as to say Lifeforms is a hopelessly complex piece of abstract music, as the basic concept is straight-forward enough: raid all the nature sample libraries, mesh it with ambient house and trip-hop of the day, take a ton of drugs [citation needed], and see what springs forth from the muse.

Even that doesn’t seem too far removed from what The Orb was doing, but whereas Dr. Patterson had a playfully chill outlook to his music, FSOL have larger ideas on mind. I honestly don’t know if this was their intent, but the concept in Lifeforms I’ve gleaned over the years is each disc tells a different story of evolution: CD1 the primordial growth to complex organisms, CD2 the arrival of higher intelligence and future-shock technology.

I’m risking turning this review into a graduate thesis, so I’ll make my explanation brief. Aside from the interlude Bird Wings, disc one typically has natural sounds running through it: gentle washing pianos, tribal drums, bells, un-manipulated chants and animal calls. The clincher, however, is the benign nature of the music on this first half. Lovely melodies in Cascade, haunting synths in Ill Flower and Dead Skin Cells, and even a sense of innocent playfulness in Flak and Among Myselves. The Garden of Eden is a wonderful place to be.

Not so in disc two. As almost a parody of advancing intellect, FSOL open with a brief, ominous version of Pachelbel’s Canon and Gigue in D Major. From there, harsh bleeps emerge in Spineless Jelly, and we’re on our way into a dystopian outlook of nature for the duration. True, there are lovely moments still found (Omnipresence, Elaborate Burn), but always coupled with aggressive electronics. We’re a far cry from the tranquility of CD1.

It makes Lifeforms no less captivating, even if many of the interludes are just effects wibble. Check it out, and discover what weird things come to your mind.

Enigma - Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi!

Virgin: 1996

Enigma had beaten the sophomore slump on The Cross Of Changes, thanks in large part to songs you couldn't escape anywhere you went. In fact, I suspect it may have been overkill on the casual listener's part, as by the mid-'90s, interest in world-beat pop had significantly dwindled. What, another ethnic chant coupled with Shakuhachi flutes and dated breakbeats? Fah, who's got time for that when 'girl with acoustic guitar' is all the hotness now (then). Michael Cretu, crafty producer he is, also recognized the need to keep his project evolving. Thus his third album, Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi!, was promoted as a marriage of his two previous Enigma works. Hey, now I get that title! It's, like, proclaiming old Enigma is dead, but here's new Enigma to lead the way. Deep, man.

Unfortunately, the album itself failed to generate much buzz beyond the lead single Beyond The Invisible, itself memorable mostly for the odd video. I mean, really, what’s going on here: Lola be running to the woods, where a figure-skating competition is being judged by steampunk cenobites (those oddballs on the cover) while tree sprites watch. It’s actually not a bad tune, though clearly a step below such hits as Age Of Loneliness and Sadeness, Part 1 - T.N.T. For The Brain comes close though. I guess if you’ve never cared about Cretu’s vocals, it wouldn’t grab you either. Tough beans if that’s the case, as he sings quite a bit for this album.

In fact, the more there are vocals on Le Roi Is Morty, Live The King!, the less interesting the album is. I appreciate the effort Mr. Cretu puts into his singing, as you can tell he’s giving his limited range all that he can offer (with a little studio boost too), but the tracks he leads on have almost always been the weakest cuts on his albums. His wife, Sandra, adds so much scintillating depth to admittedly daft New Age lyrics, and it’s a shame she doesn’t get more to do this time out.

Musically, The King Is Dead; Oops, He’s A Zombie! is softer than the previous two. Morphing Thru Time lazily coasts, Shadows In Silence floats on tranquil oceans, Almost Full Moon blissfully rocks back and forth in a dreamy daze, and Prism Of Life... well, would likely go good around a campfire. Even the upbeat tunes aren’t as driving in their rhythms as older Enigma, The Roundabout about the closest thing coming to a proper club cut.

LREM,VLR! is a better album than most gave it credit for back in the day, but has the feeling of an ambitious theme that never quite gels. Some trimming of the sappier moments like Why!... (oh God, Cretu just can’t sing here) and The Child In Us (oof, what platitudes) would have helped. If anything, the instrumentals are gorgeous, and worth checking the album out if you’ve been a fence sitter for all this time.

Daft Punk - Homework

Virgin Music Canada: 1996

The most important house LP of 1997, and no, I’m not joking. All the hype that preceded it, all the plaudits and criticisms it earned, and all the set trends following its release, I dare ask you to name another house album that had as much of an impact as Daft Punk’s Homework. It changed the way folks regarded the genre – in some cases, even dance music in general – and its aftereffects have rippled to this day. Whether you thought it was a good album, however, that’s been a contentious debate for over fifteen years now, and will undoubtedly continue as Daft Punk draw in new fans with each sporadic release.

While it'd amaze me if adding my voice to the cacophonous Homework dialog ends up having any kind of sway, here's my take on the French duo's debut: it's a good album, with two glaring problems. It's that simple, and surprising such furor over its merits has continued for so long.

There's a lot of strong house music on here. From the opening propulsive party vibes of Revolution 909 (first two tracks don't count), filter funk of Fresh, bumpin' vocal loops of High Fidelity, shimmering shoulder-shufflin' fun of Burnin', and all the way to the cascading synths of Alive at the end of the album, Homework is filled with tunes that have stood the test of time remarkably well. They’re not all-time classic, mind you, but solid enough, and would have been fondly remembered were it not for four tracks.

First, the wack. I won't deny Rollin' & Scratchin' is effective in a club, but the hard-stomp acid nature of the tune aggravates after seven minutes worth in an album format. Worse, it's quickly followed-up with a poor-man's version in Rock'n Roll, tediously dragging down the back half of Homework, including all the songs surrounding it.

Oddly enough, an opposite effect is caused by the two highlights of Homework, Da Funk and Around The World. These tunes are brilliant, and warrant the superstar status Daft Punk earned when they broke out. In fact, they're too good, as nothing else on the album comes close to capturing their delicious, vibey magic. Around The World marks the end of Homework's first half, and you're left wanting for another tune on par with it or Da Funk to emerge. But no, all you get are solid house tunes (and two duffs), memorable when out of context but unable to reach the highs Homework generated prior. And boy does that make for a frustrating album when played front-to-back.

The bitch of it is that the solution to this is so simple: jettison Rock'n Roll (or, if you must, reduce its ridiculous length), and add in the rare tune Musique, a b-side to Da Funk that's just as hooky as the Big Two. It won't solve the 'unreachable peak' problem caused by them, but at least the album's pacing would be vastly improved. Or lessen all those debates over Homework's classic status, anyway.

Gang Starr - Full Clip:A Decade Of Gang Starr

Virgin Records America, Inc: 1999

This double-disc collection of Gang Starr material opens with a live ‘rest in peace’ call-and-response recording for the then-recently deceased rapper Big L, a once rising star in the New York scene. Though Full Clip was released over ten years prior to Guru’s own death, I have to say it’s somewhat eerie hearing such a shout-out in the here and now. Like, as though the specter of death continued to lurk in the shadows. Waiting... Waiting...

Anyhow.

Gang Starr was comprised of producer DJ Premier and emcee Guru, and were one of the longest-running successful acts within hip-hop that comprised of just those two elements, neither overshadowing the other. Often it’s the microphone handlers that get all the attention; or a DJ will strike out on his own to become a top-grade turntablist; or the producer’s craft behind the mixing boards turns him into a hot commodity within the scene at large. Gang Starr was all of this, a remarkable feat considering all the factors that should have held them back beyond their Golden Era breakout. The whole ‘DJ and MC’ dynamic was a bygone relic of the ‘80s, overrun by the emergent gangsta scene, yet somehow they kept going when many of their peers fell by the wayside. Did folks mistake them for a gangsta act as well, what with a name like Gang Starr? D’oh, of course not. It was all about respect.

First off, Guru’s smoky style of rap was as smooth as beatnik flow. He had no need for aggressive shouting or profanity-laced lyrics; his words are sharp and to the point. Whether taking other MCs to task, telling street life tales, or giving shout-outs to jazz, he comes across as a wise elder, someone you best pay attention to when he speaks, as you’ll undoubtedly learn something after. If only DJ Premier wasn’t always making such fine beats, I wouldn’t be accidentally zoning him out so frequently.

Therein lay Gang Starr’s other weapon: DJ Premier’s impeccable sense of sampling. While he likely wasn’t the first to pilfer jazz and funk records of New York City’s past, he definitely became synonymous with the sound, almost single-handily dictating how underground eastcoast hip-hop would sound for the ensuing decade. If you weren't lucky enough to get Premier's touch on your track, chances were you'd end up style-biting the smooth, jazz-loop form for credibility.

Or perhaps all that is just the impression this Full Clip two-CD retrospective wants to impart. I'll admit I haven't delved into Gang Starr's proper albums, in part because this one provides almost all that you could want from the duo in a nice, tidy package. Their classics are accounted for (Words I Manifest, Militia, Rep, Steez ...plenty more!), plus assorted guest spots and rare one-offs make this more comprehensive than the Mass Appeal best-of released in 2006. Of course, Gang Starr’s style, with their unapologetic old-school approach to hip-hop, may not be for everyone. Like, those who figure trap-rap the height of sophistication.

The Chemical Brothers - Exit Planet Dust

Virgin Music Canada: 1995

Astute readers probably noticed a missing Dig Your Own Hole as I went through the 'D's. This wasn't on account of disliking The Chemical Brothers or anything - heck, I was down with their sound when they were still known as The Dust Brothers (amazing the acts one can find on early '90s 'ambient' compilations). Unfortunately for Dig, I was already sick of hearing its lead singles before the album proper hit the shelves, and even though I can find it for less than a dollar online, I'm still not inclined to snag a copy. If I can go a whole year without hearing Block Rocking Beats again, maybe then I'll finally give the album another chance.

Exit Planet Dust, however, I can play forever and not get tired of it ...most of the time. The final few tracks are a bit fillerish for my taste, but considering how hard and awesome this album hits you from the start, a drop in momentum is to be expected.

Still, the idea of big beats influenced by hip-hop breaks had already been explored by acts like Meat Beat Manifesto and Renegade Soundwave. The ChemBros, however, threw a new twist into the mix by adding liberal amounts of funk-rock and starry-eyed psychedelia, suggesting Summer Of Love vibes and knowing winks to music festivals in wide-open fields.

Leave Home's the opener, and right out the gate one can see why Simons and Rowlands became darlings of rock publications trying to get a handle on that 'electronica' music. Blending thrashy acid lines, funky guitar licks, and a cacophony of breakbeats and effects, it's a strong start to the album. In Dust We Trust goes one better, with a snarling hook that coils around your head as only an acid-drenched serpent could. Ah, help, I’m getting buried in hyperbole!

Those weaned on latter era Brothers Of The Chemical will undoubtedly be surprised by how rough and raw Exit Planet Dust sounds, far less attention paid to songcraft and simply laying out the beats as though catching the duo at a live gig. The whole middle section of the album plays out like such a set, especially so of the 'Beats Trilogy' following Song To The Siren. Fuck Up Beats in particular is a filthy beast of a track, and a shame it's so short. As if anticipating a necessary breather after the bedlam, Chico's Groove and One Too Many Mornings provides proper downtime.

Those two cuts could have been the perfect way to end the album on, but that would run quite short of runtime. So, we get glimpses of where The Chevy Bohemians would take their career at the end: Life Is Sweet pairs them up with an indie Brit-warbler, and Alive Alone sees the first of many Beth Orton collaborations. I guess if those are the sort of songs you prefer these Brothers to work out, that's your prerogative. Myself, I'm gonna go back to those fucked up big beats! UHH!

Daft Punk - Discovery

Virgin: 2001

Daft Punk's Discovery was quite an event when it first dropped, and continued causing waves in the EDM-osphere for many years after. It's an album that created what's known as 'Whiplash In A Rocking Chair' syndrome. Okay, I made that up just now, but let me explain.

Anticipation for a follow-up to Homework is high, everyone wondering if Daft Punk could make magic again (even if Homework was rather average overall). Lean forward. The whole robot gimmick is introduced, and One More Time is revealed as the lead single, shocking their followers as it's nothing what they expected. Snap back. One More Time wins them over regardless, along with much of Discovery. Snap forward. It’s subsequently overplayed and people get sick of it. Snap back. A quirky anime movie tie-in is revealed. Snap forward. The album Human After All is proclaimed a dud, and folks begin questioning Daft Punk's whole career. Snap back. Alive 2007 and the pyramid tour reminds everyone they actually like Daft Punk, including all their previous albums. Snap Forward.

I guess we're still in the 'leaning in with interest' stage with Discovery, thanks to the fresh influx of EDM fans acquainting themselves with the duo's past accomplishments. For sure it's a classic album though clearly a product of its time. Despite being a game-changer of sorts, paving the next road house music would venture on, familiarity with certain trends occurring in the genre back then would render much of Discovery as old hat.

Like, that whole French filter thing featured on tracks like Aerodynamic and High Life. That wasn't a French invention, but because French guys (or English guys posing as French guys) gained the most success from it, filtered funky disco loops became synonymous with French house. Also, there's a lot of nu-italo on Discovery. Yeah, that sub-genre, the first to properly popularize auto-tune and most known for super hits like Eiffel 65's Blue. Tell me Digital Love wouldn't sound out of place on a Gigi D’Agostino release. And as any detractor of d'ez punks will tell you, this album's loaded with samples from disco's days of yore. Harder Better Faster Stronger? More like Cola Bottle Baby, y'Ogre! ...or something.

It begs the question, then, just why Discovery was the huge hit it was, and continues to charm its way into the ears of listeners to this day. As with their early hits Da Funk and Around The World, when they want to, Daft Punk can find the catchiest of hooks and manipulate them around dance beats to maximum effect with minimal fuss; the punk music mentality. Discovery works better than its album siblings due to earnest song writing and stronger musical flow. The only real dip comes in the second half, with a string of short, melancholic filler; yet I’d take those minor melodic interludes over the endless abrasion that came at the back end of Homework any day.

The Future Sound Of London - Dead Cities

Virgin: 1996

A true magnum opus from The Future Sound Of London. Opinion tends to divide over which of their albums is their absolute best (Lifeforms? One of the latter Environments? The Isness... no.) but in terms of cinematic narratives via expansive soundscapes, Dead Cities is hard to beat. It helps that it’s one of their only albums to have a definitive theme right from the outset in the title. What’s exactly dead about these cities? Might that creepy guy on the cover and the stark artwork surrounding him be a clue? Dive right in, noble listener, and discover for yourself.

It’s probably not thought of much nigh fifteen years on, but Dead Cities was bold for its time. Backed by Virgin’s megabucks and promotion, The FSOL were being counted on to help propagate the ‘electronica’ surge. Undoubtedly the ‘artier’ group of a roster that included The Chemical Brothers, Daft Punk, and Massive Attack, they were given relative free reign on Lifeforms and ISDN. Lacking a proper hit though, it wouldn’t surprise me if Virgin started tapping their feet while leering over The FSOL’s shoulder as 1996 drew near. Well then, here’s a track that’s all ‘big beaty’ for ya’, We Have Explosive. Hell, you can even use it as the main theme for that futuristic racing video game you’re tied to if you like. Now let us get back to our studio, thank you very much. Well, maybe.

Here’s the thing about the rockin’ Explosive, and nearly any cut off Dead Cities: as standalone pieces of music, they’re all solid offerings. Even some of their transitional interludes were good enough to earn titles (somewhere, in that mess of a tracklist on the back). Variety comes in spades, tons of genres, sub-genres, and sonic experiments finding their way in bits and pieces that it’d take a 2,000 word review to detail it all (look at one of the old ones floating around TranceCritic for proof!). Scattershot IDM breaks. Bubbling ambience. Sampledelic psychedelia. Desolate opera, charming cyber-folk, lounge jazz, and piano noodling. 303s and 808s. Cheeky hidden metal.

Cool, then. Good tracks, download the best ones and all that, right? Nah, what makes Dead Cities a cut above is how the whole truly is greater than the sum of its parts. Whether The FSOL had an intended vision or allowed the listener to come up with their own, each track details another piece of their post-apocalyptic narrative. Hell, We Have Explosive, a tune that, as an obvious ‘electronica’ single should not have fit at all, serves as an inciting cataclysm to the whole enterprise (following it with such a beautiful, mournful somber piece in Everyone In The World Is Doing Something Without Me perfectly sells it too). I’ve often imagined the latter half of the album as a chronicle of the survivors discovering remnants of civilization deep underwater but personal interpretations will vary. Take a listen for yourself and let me know what springs forth from your imagination!

Michael Brook - Cobalt Blue

Virgin: 1992

So here’s the story. I was discovering ambient proper for the first time and, like all doe-eyed newbies to a genre, didn’t know who I should be looking for. Fortunately, there was this thing called the internet and, by typing the word “ambient” into search engines like Alta Vista and Webcrawler, I stumbled upon various text-only websites consisting of lists and the odd review. “Sweet,” says I, “look at all these albums.” But, a dilemma!

Being on such a thrifty teenager budget, I can afford only one CD at a given time (stop sniggering, you kids, this is pre-Napster era). Even worse, I’m stuck in the hinterlands of Canada, where the only non-Top 40 music you’ll find in a given shop is country or blues rock. Fortunately, there’s an ace up my sleeve; or rather, a mother in Vancouver. By sending her a request, she can pick anything up in the city's many record shops. What to get, though? Hm, this Brian Eno guy appears highly on all the Top 10 lists. Music For Airports? Guess I’ll give that a shot. Time passes, and Mum informs me that the shop she went to didn’t have Music For Airports. They did recommend something else, however, that’s like Brian Eno: Michael Brook’s Cobalt Blue.

And that’s how I’m talking about it in the here and now. Though an incorrect purchase, damn if it wasn’t a good one.

Heck, the Eno brothers even show up on a couple tracks (Slow Breakdown, Red Shift, and a few others listed later), lending Brook their talents with distinctive Eno sounds. Ol’ Michael’s the real star of his album though, crafting several wonderful, lovely pieces with various guitar tones as the main focus. There’s the odd dabble into something wordly (Skip Wave) but Mediterranean moods dominate. And don’t let the Eno association fool you, as this isn’t noodly drone ambient. Nay, there’s percussion to be found, bass slaps, a multitude of different instruments, tempos, and even vocal samples, all served up with ethereal production gloss that’s astounding for the year it was released in.

There is a gripe to be had, however: song length. They just don’t last long, and each tune seems filled with musical ideas that beg to be further explored but instead come across like dense jams. It’s no surprise the best songs (Andean’s otherworldliness, Ultramarine’s other otherworldliness, Urbana’s tribalism, and Ten’s tranquility) have proper beginnings and ends, containing cohesive musical narratives throughout their running times, short though they still may be.

Fortunately, it isn’t a deal breaker. Chances are you’ve heard Michael Brook's style at some point - what, you thought The Edge came up with the Infinite Guitar sound in With Or Without You? - but any true connoisseur of ambient music needs to seek this album out. You may not be so lucky to have a mother accidently get it for you.