Nightmares On Wax - A Word Of Science (The 1st And Final Chapter)

Warp Records: 1991

Probably not the only Nightmares On Wax album you're supposed to have, much less start with if you're beginning a Nightmares On Wax collection. Indeed, many point to Smoker's Delight as the true beginning of the NoW legacy, what with its clear demarcation within the trip-hop pantheon. Hell, the genre technically didn't even exist yet when A Word Of Science came out, though a few tracks here definitely helped create the DNA that would form the basis of all those depressive downtempo vibes. Nay, the Nightmares debut is still very much a product of its era, and that era includes the bleep techno of the UK rave scene, of which early Warp Records were prominent champions of. Who's got time to chill the fuck out when there's illegal parties to hop about?

Still, it's that Warp lineage that's retained A Word Of Science's cultural cache to this day. It sits at a significant crossroad, lodged between the LFO debut Frequencies and the seminal series debut of Artificial Intelligence. Where even though the ravey roots of the label are still present, time is spent on tunes feeling the downswing of a night, preferably enjoyed while loungin' about with a spliff in hand. A big part of this is due to the brains behind NoW, George Evelyn, leaving no personal influence off the table. He may have felt this was his one shot at getting his vision of music out there – a 'first and final' one, if you will. So even though the Nightmares On Wax story kicked off with some techno records, here come the funk, soul, and hip-hop samplings sharing album space with the warehouse tools.

Of course, if you're coming into A Word Of Science from the future, with little historical context, you could very well assume this being more of the trip-hop groove that defined Smoker's Delight. Right from the jump, we're greeted by Nights Interlude, their classic easy-going, laidback downtempo jam of jazzy solos and soulful strings. A tune so timeless, it continues to appear on 'chill out' compilations. A vibe so sweet, George basically opened Smoker's Delight with a remix of it. That's about it for such tracks on this album though. Playtime gets a little more sultry, Back Into Time a little more Steve Miller Band-y, and E.A.S.E more playful (you can hear Gorillaz in this one), but the rest of A Word Of Science...? Yeah, not so much.

Instead, you get bass-rattling, minimalist UK techno (A Case Of Funk, Biofeedback, Aftermath, Dextrous, Sal), stabs at vintage house (Coming Down, Fun), and a little Brit-hop for good measure (Mega Donutz, How Ya Doin', the beatbox outing of B.W.T.M.). Very little of this excels beyond the year from whence it came, their dated attributes front and centre. And hey, if you're down for such 1991 sounds, then A Word Of Science will serve you fine. For many though, an adjustment of expectations is a must. Maybe borrow your older uncle's nostalgia headphones for a session.

Plaid - Double Figure

Warp Records: 2001

Back to the lands of Plaid, taking another tentative step beyond the classics and the currents. Actually, check that, I'm pretty sure Double Figure is considered one of the duo's better works, but it's hard finding definitive consensus within their fanbase. Opinions and proclamations run almost as idiosyncratic as a typical Plaid track list, a little something for anyone, but seldom something for everyone. I heard mostly positive things about this one though, so figured it a worthy continuation of my explorations in their wider discography.

And don't Double Figure waste little time in getting tunes stuck in the ol' noggin'. Opener Eyen is a chipper, jaunty of a whistlin' tune, with just enough of an IDM menace lurking underneath such that it doesn't fall into twee silliness. Follow-up Squance, on the other hand, drops an instantly hooky bassline with a skippity beat and jubilant brassy synths. After that, Assault On Preceint Zero works a groovy techno rhythm with punctual synths and... gosh, does this every remind me of Orbital.

Come to think of it, a lot of Plaid reminds me of Orbital, at least whenever the Hartnoll brothers would get more experimental. I'm surprised I never made that connection before, the two duos inhabiting such vastly different corners of the 'electronica'-o-sphere. It ain't like Plaid's getting the same level of crossover fame, their tracks almost never winding up on any commercial compilation or soundtrack. I do wonder if either of them noticed the similarities though. Maybe Orbital did, since they included the Plaid track New Bass Hippo on their Back To Mine collection. I'd like to think Andy and Ed would have returned the favour had they been tapped for an edition that compilation series. Guess including Chime on their throwback set for XLR8R is a nice alternative.

Anyhow, there's a whopping nineteen tracks on Double Figure, though five of them are taken up by little sonic doodles, or Taks. Yep, it's the same trick that was pulled on The Black Dog's Spanners and all their Bolts. That still leaves a hefty chunk of running time for all manner of typical Plaid musical indulgences. Jazzy ditties like Zamami and Ti Bom. Braindance spazzies like Silversum and Twin Home. Straight-forward Warp techno titties like Ooh Be Doo and Porn Coconut Co. Tunes with synthy shinies like New Family and Sincetta. And whatever Light Rain is supposed to be. Trip-hop with squeaky bubblies, I think?

In any event, Double Figures is another solid outing from Plaid, with a decent amount of tunes that you'll want to come back to a few more times down the road. It's only real fault is it's just so darn long, all those Taks giving it a bit of a bloated listen. I suppose it helps space some of the quirkier tunes apart, but Plaid's never worried about that before or after. Maybe they felt it a nice nod to Spanners? Eh, it made a bit more sense there, what with such disparity of genre hopping.

The Sabres Of Paradise - Haunted Dancehall

Warp Records: 1994

I didn't have the greatest introduction to The Sabres Of Paradise, which may seem strange considering it was their agreed-upon classic Smokebelch II (Beatless Mix) that was my introduction. Appearing as it did in that Techno Nights – Ambient Dawn compilation though, it sounded so out of place and strange, especially on the supposed 'techno' CD. Even as time went on and I understood the significance of the tracks selected for that collection, Smokebelch II still never clicked with me. I assumed it would remain one of those tracks that made perfect sense if you had “been there” when it was rinsed out at all those infamous British raves during a misty sunrise in farmer's fields, but not walking home in the grey rain of the Canadian west coast.

Still, that didn't stop me from being intrigued by their sophomore effort Haunted Dancehall, if nothing else than for Jack Moss' review of it on TranceCritic. I mean, just the concept alone is catnip, the idea of crafting a soundtrack to a raver noir novel that didn't actually exist. Or maybe Andrew Weatherall had the story in mind all along, but lacked the confidence in his written prose to do it justice, settling on liner note 'excerpts' instead. Hey, I can dig that. Some folks feel they're at their creative best in specific lanes, and Weatherall clearly knows his lane's in the DJing domain. Still, his production ain't much of a slouch either.

Though let's not forget the other players involved with this Sabres Of Paradise project, including members of Brit-tronica outfit The Aloof in Jagz Kooner and Gary Burns. Throw in a Portishead remix on Planet D and a proper dancehall-dub contribution from Steve Gilderon Wilmot, and you've one remarkably diverse album in Haunted Dancehall. You wouldn't expect anything less from an early Warp Records record though, would you?

In fact, I'm not sure folks really knew what to make of it back when, what with no clear-cut singles springing from the album. The Sabres basically had to self-release the funky blaxploitation breaks of Theme as an EP, while dubby groover Wilmot did some solo business as well. No Smokebelches though – not even a Beatless Mix. I wager that Chapel Street Market 9am comes close though, capturing a similar 'morning after daze' vibe.

And gosh, the rest? Whatever that ultra-metallic funky rhythm is in Bubble And Slide. The rolling jazz-dub of Duke Of Earlsfield. Tow Truck screaming for a British crime-caper. The effortless cinematic IDM funk of Ballad Nicky McGuire (seriously, d'at rhythm!). While not quite as leftfield as stars of Artificial Intelligence went, the sound-craft on Haunted Dancehall easily puts it on par with The Black Dogs and Autechres of the era. The only reason it doesn't get brought up in similar discussion is either The Sabres' earlier discography of straight-forward rave records, or their audacity in tying all their tunes into some sort of narrative. Fools, we can't have folks actually understanding these tracks!

Autechre - Incunabula

Warp Records: 1993

(a Patreon Request)

It's clear I've neglected Autechre, and I have my reasons. Fear, disinterest, embarrassment... all worthy factors (no joke, for the longest time, I thought their name was pronounced “aur-toosh”; I don't know how that happened). Honestly, it was probably a singular Muzik Magazine review that led me astray from the music of Rob Brown and Sean Booth, in that they were lamenting how 'un-musical' they'd become since their first three records. An exaggeration, perhaps, but the stuff I was hearing from Autechre at the time was indeed super serious IDM experimentalism. Cool if you dig on technical wankery, but it wasn't something I was interested in. Still, those first three albums were highly recommended. Maybe one day, I'd check them out. One day, one day... one day...

Oh hey, one day is here! And if I'm gonna' dive into Autechre, I may as well start from the beginning, as it's apparently the easiest leaping on point. Incunabula came out at the tail-end of Warp Records' Artificial Intelligence run, the last of the original artist albums under the banner. Warp would release one more compilation, then essentially mothball the series, as all these weird ambient techno 'doods' had enough clout to stand on their own without a concept linking them all together. Besides, with so many other labels now getting in on this 'intelligent techno' trend, I'm sure the label wanted to distance itself from such a gimmicky tag. Good luck on that, mates.

As for Incunabula (ergh... keep wanting to type 'innocuous'), yeah, it's definitely an early ambient techno album. I can hear why latter-era Autechre followers aren't too fussed with this debut, as it really sounds like the lads from Rochdale are still influenced by their peers rather than embarking on any drastic sonic journeys themselves. I'd even be so willing to say this might be the least 'Autechre-sounding' album in their discography, if I had any clue what the majority of their discography sounds like.

For sure it's one of the finer examples of early ambient techno, and you can hear plenty of sonic markers still being emulated by modern producers of this sound – Aphex Twin didn't have a monopoly on inspiration, after all. By the same token though, a track like Bike sounds like it could just as easily appeared on a B12 EP, Aut Riche just as easily on a Black Dog collection, Brochus 2 as a Speedy J fill, and Lowride as a ...wait, isn't that DJ Premier In Deep Concentration?

Still, there are glimmers of the complex drum programming Autechre would come to known by, tracks like Maetle, 444, and Basscadet showing they were willing to think outside the traditional techno box. Meanwhile, Windwind, Eggshell, and Doctrine have nice warm melodies countering the harsher electronics, which is what we ever wanted out of our ambient techno anyway. Incunabula may not be a terribly challenging record compared to later Autechre works, but it's enjoyable on its own merits just the same.

Plaid - Reachy Prints

Warp Records: 2014

I've gotten the Most Important Plaid album (Not For Threes) and the latest (because it was there), but there's a hefty clutch of material between those two points, not much of which gets talked about. You'd think Warp Records would be more generous in promoting the Plaid discography, veterans of their label and all, but then it's not like the duo have the same clout other IDM wonks on the print. Everyone with a passing familiarity with electronic music knows of Aphex Twin, Autechre, and Squarepusher (because journalists keep name-dropping them as bases of comparison... *cough*), but poor Plaid gets lost in the shuffle.

On the other hand, the duo didn't do themselves many favours following the turn of the millennium. Most of their '00s was spent getting into the soundtrack gig, leading some to wonder whether they'd given up on regular Plaid output. An album called Scintilli eventually popped up in 2011, but folks didn't hear much on there that lit their world on fire, plus the duo almost immediately went back to work on another score, so things looked dicey for the Plaid-Heads of the world. I don't know what a hardcore Plaid fan is called. A Flaid?

Scintilli had some supporters, mind you, but it seems with Reachy Prints, the global Flaid brigade finally got the album they'd been waiting on for over a decade, a return to form for the purveyors of clever beatcraft, charming melodies, and all the things Flaids enjoy from Plaid. There are a couple nods to contemporary trends (glitchy rhythms, etc.) but seeing as how Plaid were doing contemporary trends long before they were trendy or contemporary, things fit quite snugly within their larger discography while sounding not a touch out of time. Except maybe Liverpool St, the obligatory orchestral tune that sounds better served in a soundtrack. Just can't shake that itch, I guess. All said, Reachy Prints is a lovely little album, if rather short, but is a nice entry point for those who haven't been swayed by Plaids muse yet, even if they still aren't doing that 'super-serious challenging IDM' stuff their Warp Records brethren are known for.

And that's when it finally hit me as to why Plaid never seemed to get the same name-drops as the Aphexes and Autechres, despite hailing from the same ambient techno lineage: their brand of IDM isn't 'challenging' enough for the true critics and connoisseurs of this scene. You know the ones, who are very serious about how they listen to music, and can only accept it if it's actively fighting the brain's natural biases and disposition towards rhythm and melody. Plaid's music ain't like that, at least to not the same extreme, so of course all the Very Important Talkers aren't always talking 'bout them. Me though, I'm not very important at all, so have no problem talking Plaid, and I'm talking up Reachy Prints if you need a nice, easy, tasty primer into their work.

Plaid - Not For Threes

Warp Records: 1997

All that mumble-jumbo I said regarding digging into an act's extensive discography? Kinda' moot point when it comes to Plaid's Not For Threes. There's some history behind this album, see, making it one of the duo's more essential LPs out of their discography. The Black Dog was...well, not dead, but when Ed Handley and Andy Turner left Ken Downie to his own devices, there certainly was uncertainty in the air. Could The Black Dog brand continue without their input? What would Misters Handley and Turner do for themselves? Might they explore solo careers, or carry on with their older Plaid alias before The Black Dog stuff overwhelmed their careers? Well, obviously we know the answer to the latter one, as Plaid carries on to this day, but man who saw that in ye' olde year of 1997? Hell, some folks thought we were all gonna' die within three years!

Not that those in the know wouldn't know of Ed and Andy's prior work under the Plaid moniker, having already released an album via Black Dog Productions, Mbuki Mvuki, but it didn't have the same recognition as their work in association with Ken Downie. Not For Threes (is this a dig on their former three-person group? Was there bad-blood in the Black Dog break-up?) had the task of not only marking Plaid as their own entity, but convince Black Dog disciples they were as worthy of their attention as anything released in those seminal years. Getting a couple popular vocalists in Nicolette (Shut Up And Dance, Massive Attack) and Björk (endless namedrops) to contribute some lyrics didn't hurt. Ain't no one sang with Black Dog back then.

Sticking with Warp Records no doubt helped the transition, and the clipper-clop beats and funky-quirky melodic electro of opener Abla Eedio likely allayed any lingering hesitation. They were staying the IDM lane, and going as idiosyncratic with their songcraft as ever. Kortisin, Myopia and Fer are chipper, funky jaunts down tropical boulevards. Headspin gets in on that hyper-jazz trend Squarepusher was, um, pushing. Prauge Radio shows they can be just as noisy bastards as Aphex Twin at his drill 'n' bassiest. Or they could go as mellow as a Balearic dawn, as in Rakimou. Ol reminds you of those heady ambient techno days. Ladyburst sounds like something from a Gorillaz D-side. Lilith has Ms. Björk doing her thing over a skittery trip-hop beat, while Nicolette provides her soul croon to an equally sketchy trip-hop outing in Extork. Milh lets the Plaid boys have their modern classical indulgence. Getting sounds like... a deep-dive jazz session in a SNES game?

And there's plenty more charming IDM wonkery littered throughout Not For Threes, which is nice for those who prefer their IDM a little on the sane side of the apple cart. Why, you might even say Not For Threes is the Plaid album you should have, even if you're not a Plaid fan.

Plaid - The Digging Remedy

Warp Records: 2016

The challenge with starting up a discography collection of long-running acts is figuring out where to start. Do you nab the agreed-upon classics first, then work your way down, with probable diminishing returns? Go in chronological order, from uncertain, interesting beginnings, through peak seminal works, then trudge through a long run of average material? Maybe go about it in an unconventional manner, say alphabetical order! But nay, most gather albums dependant upon two factors: availability and affordability. And it just so happens that the most available and the most affordable are either the newer albums, and the classics (thanks, re-issues!). Oh, and that one mid-career dog LP no one ever speaks of, found in every used shop and discount bin. Every legacy act has one of those in their catalogue.

Anyhow, Plaid, a duo I'm finally digging deeper with, as there's only so far one can go with Handley and Turner's Black Dog works. Under this moniker, they've released ten albums, two soundtracks, a couple collaborative projects, and who knows how many singles (The Lord That Knows All claims seventeen). Having only dabbled with their post-Dog music, I was stumped on which albums I should have if I want to become a Plaid fan. The fact they don't really follow conventional album traditions hasn't made things easier, most LPs looking like scatterings of whatever they're making at a given time, themes and concepts be damned. Thus I felt the blind purchase was best, gathering up whatever was most affordable and letting the London lads hit me for all they're worth, preconceived notions be damned. So if you're looking for a proper retrospective of Plaid's career, I dunno, instead ask that Wonky Angle guy to do it.

Of what I splurged on, alphabetical stipulation states I must review The Digging Remedy first, which also happens to be their most recent offering. Aw, now y'all expect me to review this in context with their greater discography, and here I am with no frame of reference.

Actually, I can say The Digging Remedy is exactly the sort of Plaid album I was expecting from a recent effort. Contemporary, but eclectic enough that it doesn't fit in any era. Lots of stylistic jumping, tunes mostly hovering around the three-to-four minute mark, a clear sense of producers comfortable with their tools and trade, showing little fear or restraint in exploring whatever sound they wish. An opener that has something of a John Carpenter vibe going for it? Sure things. CLOCK featuring big, super-stuttery chord stabs and dreamy melodies. Yeah, guy. A funky shuffle with The Bee? Shuffle away, boys. Something dubsteppy for the braindancers in Yu Mountain? I'll buy that. Treading back to techno's domain in Saladore? Let me get my robot on. A twee, acoustic ditty for a closer? No problem.

So The Digging Remedy delivered, but for thoughts on how it holds up compared to older material, check back later in the summer. Should have gotten to Not For Threes by then.

LFO - Frequencies

Warp Records: 1991/2011

There were other records floating about of similar ilk, but few at the time made such a definitive stamp on UK techno as LFO's debut LP did. Not only did it help establish the Brits' take on Detroit's sound as something distinct, unique, and 'bleepy', all the while providing a subtle link to the raving antics of Belgians, but it also put the fledgling Warp Records on the map. Between this, Nightmares On Wax, and Tricky Disco, Warp was quickly established as a print worth reckoning with, a wholly independent label that clearly had its ear to the pulse of techno that wasn't just mindless boshing bollocks. An almost 'intelligent' take on dance music, you might say, though not too pretentious about it – LFO will still demolish your bassbins if you're not careful with the gain levels.

What helped Frequencies stand out from the pack is just how much of a melting pot of influences it is. True, there wasn't much to draw from at this point of electronic music's history, but Mark Bell and Gez Varley don't mince words in the opening Intro, first asking what is house music (“Technotronic? KLF? Or something you live in?”) before name-dropping a who's who of Chicago pioneers. Then they rattle off “pioneers of the hypnotic groove”, listing off Eno, Kraftwerk, and... Depeche Mode? Yellow Magic Orchestra?? Tangerine Dream??? Well, I can't say I've ever heard those chaps name-dropped in the vintage deep house/techno, pitched-down voice before. And wait, what's LFO going on about house music? Aren't they 'bleep techno' pioneers or something?

True d'at, with plenty of examples littered throughout Frequencies. The eponymous lead single is the classic cut of course, and still carries a potent punch when those low-ends drop, all the while bleepy noises and sinister Detroit strings ooze warehouse menace. The follow-up single We Are Back takes things a step further, coming off like a grimy, future-shock reboot of the Belgian hit Quadrophonia, to say nothing of the bass-crushing minimalism of Mentok 1. Groovy Distortion and Tan Ta Ra eases up on the sub-whoofer assault some, edging closer to the Model 500 mould so much 'bleep techno' was emulating in the first place. Elsewhere, LFO get their electro vibe on, tracks like Simon From Syndey, El Ef Oh!, and Think A Moment showing where that Kraftwerk nod comes into play (sure, a little YMO too).

And yes, there's house music on here. Only... it's not house. Nurture, Freeze, Mentok, You Have To Understand, and Love Is The Message have that undeniable house groove going, but buried behind so much bleepy, bare-bones production, they come off strangely techno too. Not that genre-mashing was uncommon in the early '90s – much scene splintering occurred shortly after from such wilful warping of established conventions, young though they were. Few attempted emulating LFO's take on house-techno hybrids though, if anything because it was just so raw and unpolished, difficult to replicate without going full-retro. No wonder Frequencies remains a timeless album.

Flying Lotus - Until The Quiet Comes

Warp Records: 2012

Probably not the best album to get one’s ears wet with Flying Lotus, this. Even in his modest outings, the dude takes a rather challenging approach to his beat work and song craft, finding confounding ways of manipulating conventional funk, hip-hop, soul, and the jazz that fuses them together (say what?). It’s definitely a style that will get you noticed by all the talking-head rags out there, forever eager in discovering and hyping a unique approach to familiar music, and FlyLo fast became a critical darling in the mid-‘00s. By second LP, he was signed to Warp Records, and as the praise steadily increased, so did Mr. Ellison’s desire to challenge himself. Thus we arrive at his fourth album, Until The Quiet Comes, a point when he has nothing left to prove to anyone but his own musical ambition. Oh yeah, we’re getting into Serious Artist territory with this one.

Of course, the notion of Flying Lotus getting a pile of Real Musicians in the studio with him first germinated with his previous album, Cosmogramma. That was more a feeling-out process though, taking the abstract-hop and broken funk that defined his earlier work and seeing if it could work in a traditional band setting (well, as traditional as jazz-fusion gets). Those results must have satisfied FlyLo, as he takes things even further here, trying out more genre-fusion, with more musicians in the studio, and more tracks filling out the album! Okay, only one more track, but still, MOAR!

Names returning for this session include Flying Lotus mainstays bassist Thundercat, harpist Rebekah Raff, stringster Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, vocalist Laura Darlington, and Brit-warbler Thom Yorke. Coming in for the Quiet Comes party are keyboardist Austin Peralta, other-keyboardist Brandon Coleman, drummer Jean Coy, and soul-Goddess Eryakah Badu. Geez, how does one top that in a follow-up - a hot contemporary rapper, or an actual jazz legend on the keyboards? (yep, and FlyLo done did it in You’re Dead!).

And as for the music on Until The Quiet Comes …look, we all know this is the sort of stuff musicians make just to annoy folks who like dancing about architecture [citation needed]. I can tell you that Tiny Tortures has a minimalist, blippy thing going on, or that The Nightcaller stomps out the spaced-out P-funk vibes, or that Phantasm oozes and creeps about in dreamy psychedelic-pop, but how helpful are such descriptors in a record such as this? Tracks come and go at such an erratic, rapid pace; few have much chance of sinking in before you’re trying to peel the musical layers of the next tune. Some pieces thematically meld together so well, you won’t even notice a clutch of tracks have played past, whereas others shift tones so suddenly it’ll give your cochlea whiplash.

I do come back to Until The Quiet Comes every so often, just to hear if I can pick out any additional nuance that slipped by before. Should casual music listening be such like homework, though?

Aphex Twin - Cheetah EP

Warp Records: 2016

I’m flabbergasted. Stooptafried. Diskumbunkulatorated. Have had my world twisted inside the outside. Made very wery flummoxed in the bummox. Caught just a bit of guard. Cheetah has thrown me for a loop in how unconventional an Aphex Twin record can be. Where are the drill-n-bass beats? Micro-glitch edits? Synths and pads painting outwardly imagery within the furthest reaches of your lucid dreams? Not even something hidden, like that infamous visage of your grinning mug only visible within a spectrogram? There’s some fun acid in Cirklon, but nothing that’ll challenge the norms of what’s expected from a TB-303 workout. And I wouldn’t count the short sonic doodles of Cheeta1b ms800 and Cheeta2 ms800 as anything worth getting fussed about, unless that’s where Mr. Dee James is hiding one of his trademark pranks.

Or maybe there isn’t any sort of catch to this EP. Perhaps, after years of challenging what we expect from electronic music, Aphex Twin has finally decided it’s time to release some ‘normal’ dance tunes, with easy rhythms and pleasant tones. No more IDM, no more ambient; no more experiments, just plain and simple techno. Sorry, I wanted that to rhyme, but ‘trance’ is the only thing that works there, and the one thing we can all agree on is Aphex Twin has never, ever been trance. Except for perhaps Polynominal-C, if you squint your ears in the right direction.

Of course Cheetah isn’t normal in a traditional house or techno sense, but it’s definitely the most conventional sounding tunes in Aphex Twin’s repertoire in some time. The Analord series Ritichie Jameson released as ‘AFX’ is a close cousin, and we could even dig super deep into the way-back era of Polygon Window for another comparison. I’m honestly so very tempted in tossing the ‘deep’ tag onto CheetahT2 (Ld Spectrum) and CheetahT7b, in that these are some seriously slow, lazy downbeat vibes. I’ve heard they can be played at either 33 or 45 should you snag yourself the vinyl, but as I have no such medium within my possession, I’ll assume these slow versions are the correct versions as Jichard W. Rames envisioned. Besides, that acid bassline in CheetahT7b is just too damn groovy at 33 to not be intentional!

As mentioned, the Cirklon tracks get deeper into the acid funk. Cirklon1 offers more mint TB-303 bassline business, while Cirklon3 (Колхозная Mix) goes more electro. For all us CD collectors, we get bonus cut 2X202-ST5, another charming piece of drum machine foolery. There’s nothing extra special about it beyond clap fills, simply content in letting the mild acid bobble about a techno break. It’s about as b-side as any track can get, but don’t tell the vinyl enthusiasts that – they’re already miffed about losing out on this for their Aphex Twin Completist Collection. Look, you already got some of the best Analord material on the Black Crack, so you can let us have this. I wouldn’t recommend Cheetah for anyone but such Aphex completists though.

Black Dog Productions - Bytes

Warp Records: 1993/2007

Most folks turn to this as the first Black Dog album, though that’s not exactly accurate. It features contributions from all of the group’s members at the time (Ken Downie, Ed Handley, and Andy Turner) operating under various guises from solo projects instead. Seems Warp Records, anxious in their continual expansion of the Artificial Intelligence series, wanted in on some of that buzz-worthy Black Dog action, but the group were already signed with General Production Recordings for an album deal. However, an exploitable loophole was discovered: take a smattering of EPs, lump them under the banner of “Black Dog Productions”, and have The Designer’s Republic design a track list that obscured these particulars. Sweet, now Warp Records can claim having a new album from The Black Dog in their catalog, sitting snug beside that Aphex-not-Aphex “Polygon Window” album. Man, did B12 give the early Warp this much fuss too?

Bytes contains tracks from nearly every alias the three chaps were using in 1993 (only one-off Twelve Days Of Night is absent). This includes Close Up Over, Xeper, Atypic, I.A.O., Discordian Popes, Balil, and Plaid. That last one you most definitely know, and funnily enough had a debut album out a couple years prior to this, Mbuki Mvuki, released on the label Black Dog Productions. Yep, the Black Dog boys briefly had their own label, which must be where all these various aliases originated from. Nah, that makes things far too simple for this story.

Ed Handley’s Balil had floated from a few seminal prints in its own right, among them R & S Records, Rising High Records, and Planet E; meanwhile, Andew Turner’s Atypic first appeared on Applied Rhythmic Technology (ART). The rest of these tracks and aliases seem custom made for this particular release, which further begs the question how this all came about. Like, was it really necessary for Downie to take on three different pseudonyms for this project? I’ll grant Discordian Popes stands out from Xeper and I.A.O., in that it’s a pure techno track, whereas the other two are more ambient techno, but there’s not that much difference between the three.

With no clear concept behind Bytes beyond showcasing the individual talents of The Black Dog’s members, it’s definitely a scattershot of a listening experience. The first few tracks lean more to the Detroit side of techno, though the seeds of IDM’s complex drum programming are clearly germinating within these efforts. When melodic elements are added in follow-up tracks, the notion of electronic music being as much suitable for ‘intelligent’ endeavors as dance floor utility is as evident as anything within the Artificial Intelligence series. Unfortunately, this is still one very ‘tracky’ album, much of Bytes’ middle jerkily moving from standard techno production to cautious experimental indulgence. Can’t fault that finish though, two blissy Balil cuts with funky Detroit action in the middle. Overall, this album's more consistent than the proper Black Dog debut, Temple Of Transparent Balls, though less adventurous too.

Boards Of Canada - Twoism

Music70/Warp Records: 1995/2002

I have difficulty thinking of Twoism as part of the official Boards Of Canada long-player lexicon, for no better reason than it initially wasn’t. After the rousing success of Music Has The Right To Children, it wasn't long befor legions of new fans with melted youthful hearts were digging for anything else from the Scottish duo. Savvy heads already knew of their initial EP on Skam, Hi Scores, but word soon spread of a treasure trove of older, ultra-rare material lurking in the shadows of obscurest realms. Some of these are so rare, their very existence is continuously called into question - considering a lack of bootlegs or credible internet uploads, not an unfounded notion. The web always finds a way of unearthing music, always.

For a brief time, Twoism was among these mythical artifacts. Story goes the early Boards recordings were limited to tapes circulated among family and friends, but Twoism received a slightly larger distribution via vinyl. Mind, this was still self-released on their Music70 print, with a mere one-hundred copies pressed, but at least there were confirmed physical records out there, exchanging collector’s hands for pounds of quid (that the saying, right? Help me out, Brits!). Well, these Boards Of Canada were having none of that – why should the trader’s market profit from something they themselves could make bank off? Thus, Twoism saw a proper re-issue on Warp Records, sending those who took out mortgages to own the original wax weeping into the English moors. Or not, those initial pressings undoubtedly still commanding ridiculous sums from the discerning collector. Still, how nice us plebs get to enjoy this music too.

Given the near-cultish fanbase Boards Of Canada developed, it’s no surprise this was a highly sought record. Fortunately, such digging efforts were rewarded with an album that captures the Boards spirit as capably as any of their other LPs. For sure it’s more simplistic compared to what came after, most of their beats the barest of hip-hop rhythms. Meanwhile, the melodies stick to basic, lengthy loops of layered synth and timbre, with very little songcraft exhibited beyond what’s established early in a track. Still, those synth tones… every bit as warm, fuzzy, charming, nostalgic, day-glowy, and other descriptors you’ve read countless times in a BoC review. I could probably eat up my entire self-imposed word-count rattling them all off.

A couple things differentiates Twoism from their later work though, most notably the tracks Iced Cooly and Basefree. Both harkens to IDM’s earlier years, the former a bouncy electro jaunt, the latter an abrasive drill-beat number that sounds unlike anything in the Boards’ official canon. Still finding their way, clearly the lads from Hexagon Sun are. Also, the sound quality of their productions is rougher here, but that’s expected of an early album.

That’s all I have to say about Twoism. It was an album deemed ‘must-have’ back when it was rare as unicorn shit, and thanks to the Warp reissue, everyone can have it. Yay!

Boards Of Canada - Trans Canada Highway (Original TC Review)

Warp Records: 2006

(2016 Update:
Another first-time review of a major act, another review with redundant information now that I've long since reviewed many more albums from said act. At least I didn't get too heavy into it with this EP, providing an obligatory (if flakey) backstory, with a thrown in theory to boot. It's a good theory, my thoughts on the Boards' popularity, but one that had already been floating around, namely that of 'hauntology'. A rather obscure term, Simon Reynolds really explored it in describing the aesthetic of acts like Boards Of Canada (among others like Burial and label Ghost Box). Not that I had any realization of that in here, a decade ago, but yeah, totally reiterating concepts with far more studies into them by people who get paid for such things.

Left Side Drive just might be my favorite Boards tune, though you wouldn't know from this review. Seems every time I hear it again, it draws me ever deeper into that warm bass and distant dub, losing my headspace in reflections of traversing British Columbian wilderness. It's like Silent Season distilled into five minutes of sonic bliss, and so worth repeated plays of this pleasant little EP. Hey, remember when we thought this might be the last thing Boards would ever release? Fun times!)


IN BRIEF: Traveling in Canada.

I’ve seen few fanbases grow as quickly, as widespread, and as fanatical as for the enigmatic group Boards Of Canada. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere when Warp released their album Music Has The Right To Children, they gave an ailing intelligent techno scene (or IDM, if you will) a much needed boost in the late 90s when many producers had either tried and failed at commercial success (‘electronica’) or plummeted into incomprehensible experimentation. BoC provided the antidote: interesting sonic experiments, but without abandoning digestible rhythms and melodies.

It was more than that though. BoC’s music contains an undeniable nostalgic tinge to it. Many have tried to explain how they do it but none have managed to come up with a concrete theory; which, along with a scarce back catalogue, has added to their mystique.

I won’t claim to have that answer either, but I will offer my own theory: Boards Of Canada create the music of memories. Not yours, or mine, or anyone’s in particular, but of memories itself; or rather, how we hear music in our own memories. Despite our best efforts, when music plays back in our minds it is never quite accurate, and clings at the edge of our consciousness, fading over time. BoC’s lo-fi production seems to replicate this remarkably well, and when warm, pleasing synth tones are used, childhood memories are instinctively thought of. With such universal appeal, its little wonder even indie rockers melt at hearing a Boards Of Canada melody.

Of course, BoC shouldn’t be restrained by single musical ideas, but this is where their main appeal lies. After delving into organic instrumentation on last year’s The Campfire Headphase, many of their fans were very happy to hear a return to the sound of Children on this release, Trans Canada Highway. But despite being less a single for Dayvan Cowboy (of which two versions bookend this) and more of a mini-album, there’s still very little new material that’ll satisfy their rabid fans.

For casual fans though, two tracks should interest them: Left Side Drive and Skyliner. Unlike Dayvan, which willfully makes use of orchestral arrangements and acoustic guitars along with various electronic trickery, these two are quite vintage in their production. Left Side Drive lets lazy, dubby rhythms stroll along while warm, hazy pads float in the background. And Skyliner makes a more immediate presence with quicker scattering rhythms and leading synths. While perhaps simple in their presentation, especially compared to Dayvan, both should satisfy if you crave BoC’s older style. The other two are merely ambient interludes, which are common in many of their albums. Pleasant enough, but hardly essential.

As for the remix of Dayvan, Odd Nosdam does the drone ambient thing, seemingly playing up the ‘memory’ aspect of BoC’s music with one of their own tracks. Between stretches of white noise interludes, bits of Dayvan crop up, then fades away before returning to droning sounds. An interesting listen but, like the other ambient parts of Trans Canada Highway, that is all.

Ultimately, this EP is a sparse, lonely listen, which makes sense given the title. As anyone that has driven the Trans Canada Highway can attest to, or any highway in lightly populated areas of Canada for that matter, it can be a lonesome experience (great scenery though). Having grown up in parts of the country where significant towns are often up to three hours apart, I’d travel long stretches of winding, single-lane roads snaking across mountain-sides and through forests, the only company being those in your car and the intermittent vehicle passing by. Trans Canada Highway, when listened to as a whole, uncannily replicates such a trip... or maybe that’s just that memory thing again. Still, for a Scottish duo, they are quite good at capturing aspects of Canadiana along with incredibly nostalgic music.

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

Boards Of Canada - Tomorrow's Harvest

Warp Records: 2013

Probably the most Boards Of Canada sounding album that Boards Of Canada have released. “But wait,” you cry after flipping your TV dinner tray and knocking over a lamp with that flowery canopy and tassels hanging like a droopy hippie, “how can that be? Music Has The Right To Children is their best album for all eternity!” Hey, I ain’t taking that away, though I’m certain a number of folks figure The Campfire Headphase a better album than Musical Children. Hell, there’s probably a few odd sorts that rank Geogaddi’s ultra-cryptic nonsense concept as Most Essential Boards. Almost nowhere does Tomorrow’s Harvest enter this discussion, though its relative newness hasn’t afforded it much gestation time compared to most BoC.

Thing about the Big Three of Boards Of Canada’s discography is they each had their own, distinct sound. For sure there’s the BoC sonic markers you’ll hear in every one of their records (trip-hop beats, analog synth tones, ‘70s fuzz), but one can still instantly tell which album’s playing: Musical Children has the nostalgic playful innocence, Geogaddi the harsh experimentation, and Campfire Headphase the acoustic shoegaze pieces. Tomorrow’s Harvest has no such signifiers of instant identification; in fact, one could claim its lack of a recognizable theme is this album’s primary theme, but that’s rather stupid. Misters Sandison and Eoin most definitely had a theme in mind for this album, one that still paid homage to the ‘70s sounds they grew up listening to. For having relived the children’s documentaries and trips out to the countryside, Boards Of Canada felt time to grow up and explore the desolate futures so many sci-fi films of the era dealt with. Cold War babies didn’t have much hope for our present times, did they?

The start of Tomorrow’s Harvest certainly sells this premise, opener Gemini and third track White Cyclosa the sort of music a Berlin School composer might write for such a film. Lodged between them, Reach For The Dead brings in the Boards’ style of crackly beatcraft and warm synth timbre while adding wide-screen grandeur to their palette, a more cinematic approach to their vintage style. And that’s essentially the bulk of music you’ll find on Tomorrow’s Harvest, tunes less concerned with hauntology than presenting a narrative fitting its theme. There are a few scattered ambient doodles (Uritual, Telepath, Transmisiones Ferox, Collapse), and a couple ‘childhood recollection’ pieces poke their heads out (Nothing Is Real, Cold Earth). For the most part though, Tomorrow’s Harvest sounds like Boards Of Canada stripped down to their raw essence, their music as stark as the barren futurescape that encapsulates their would-be film.

Many who spent years dissecting their other albums were flustered with Tomorrow’s Harvest, unsure what to make of such a modest concept LP. The long gap between albums didn’t help matters, fans filled with much hype and thrill for BoC’s return. Yet it’s almost forgotten now, seldom talked up as folks keep referring back to older records. Guess some remain fixed in the past.

Aphex Twin - Syro

Warp Records: 2014

Hey, remember when there was a new Aphex Twin album? Boy, it sure was an exciting time when that new Aphex Twin album showed up out of nowhere. Everyone got to wax nostalgic about what Aphex Twin's music meant to them again. Music rags got to write up Aphex Twin retrospectives for the fourth or fifth time. Journalists got to pontificate on why Aphex Twin is such a Very Important Person in the world of techno again. Folks were just plain ol' happy to see Aphex Twin active again, even though Richard D. James hadn't left in the first place. And we wouldn’t take him for granted as we did following Druqks, no sir. We’d keep him on that pedestal he earned back in the ‘90s, forever proclaiming the new Aphex Twin album an LP without peer, beyond compare, the best new music now and forever, a- oh, wait, no one’s talking much about Syro anymore, are they. Damn, maybe he should stop flooding his Soundcloud with so much music, let us soak in an actual album for a change.

So Syro: the record with a simple title and a dozen confounding song titles (and a hilarious expenses list that runs for six foldouts!). Rumours abound as to why the RDJ’d One felt compelled to give the world another full-length of music, though as with all things with the man from the lands of Cornish, it was probably all just a whim. Like, did he really need money again? Would Warp Records really pester him to fulfill a record deal? Nah, more plausible he just wanted a chuckle over the salivating reactions at seeing the Aphex Twin moniker reactivated. Nice of him to supply us with a solid album of tunes in the process.

While no two releases from Are Deejay ever sound the same, this does have some similarities to his mid-‘90s work than anything else. There isn’t so much micro-computer editing, drill-n-bassing, or real instrument keyboard doodling, but rather getting a playful groove on, tinkering with some sounds and effects, and riding an electro acid-funk jam wherever it may lead. Considering how much Aphex Twin always sounded weird and alien, it’s odd hearing him doing something that sounds much closer to our earthly realms. True, it’s future-Earth we’re dealing with, but we’re still on good ol’ terra firma just the same. Get some shuffle on with, er, that third track. Or find yourself at a robot junglist party with, um, those last run of tracks. Or feel that throwback rave anthem with the fifth cut.

Look, I’m not gonna’ actually name these tracks. They read like computer gibberish, probably are just some random nonsense Jamesy Boy slapped together, and only gave them ‘proper’ titles so stuffy music journalists would look like bellends trying to write critical prose with Syro u473t8+e [Piezoluminescence Mix] as part of a sentence. Well, I ain’t falling for that, I tell you what.

Anyway, Syro is a good album from Aphex Twin.

Polygon Window - Surfing On Sine Waves

Warp Records: 1992/2000

The only Aphex Twin album you're supposed to have, if you want to have an Aphex Twin album that's not by Aphex Twin. No, the AFX stuff doesn't count, because you can totally tell it's the same guy. Who in their sane mind could tell Polygon Window was also a Richard D. James alias though? Not from a casual glance, no sir, though as soon as you throw this record on the player, it's pretty damn obvious. The main reason it wasn’t billed asan Aphex Twin album is ol’ Rich had yet to settle on a consistent alias, not to mention all the label politicking that went down in those days. His famous moniker was still an Apollo exclusive, he was using ‘Bradley Strider’ on his own Rephlex print, and ain’t no way Ffrreedom was letting go of Power-Pill. Thus, here’s Polygon Window making his debut on Warp Records.

Some state Surfing On Sine Waves as the best LP Mr. Dee James has ever put out. Yes, better than either Selected Ambient Works, better than his self-titled album, and even better than the best Aphex Twin album to come out in the last fifteen years, Syro. What could possibly be on this ancient record that has longtime Aphex fans proclaiming such a thing? Ambient techno, obviously, though some regular UK bleep and acid techno too. Nothing super mind-bending or obtuse for its own sake either - just interesting, intelligent tunes made in the Aphex aesthetic. As Surfing On Sine Waves was released as the second volume of Warp Records’ seminal Artificial Intelligence series (which included both compilations and artist albums), perhaps The Richarded One played nice with the fledgling London label. Or maybe he’d yet to discover his inner brilliant, wanker swagger.

The closest comparison Surfing On Sine Waves comes to the rest of Mr. James’ oeuvre is the first Selected Ambient Works. Hardly surprising since they were released around the same time, but these tracks are definitely more techno than ambient. Audax Powder has a gentle pad melody going for it, then changes gears to a bouncy rave beat. Dot goes for a moody atmosphere in robot Hell, and Quino-Phec is all sorts of dark, calming drone as found on the later volume of SAW. Reissues added Portreath Harbour and Redruth School, both sounding like early SAW session tracks that didn’t make the cut.

Other tracks fear no hardcore rhythm, Supremacy II getting its proper rave on, Quixote doing a techno-trance thing, and the titular opener showing them UK lads could go a little Detroit, should they so choose. Surprisingly, there’s some ‘conventional’ music here too, Quoth bangin’ percolating machine techno, If It Really Is Me rather drab piano techno, and an untitled track toying around with standard acid. Hey, Aphex Twin really is human after all!

At its best, Surfing On Sine Waves is a heavier, if simpler companion to James’ more famous work of the period. Not a must-have, but definitely worth the time invested.

Aphex Twin - Drukqs

Warp Records: 2001

Why, I remember a time when we took new Aphex Twin music for granted, by g'ar. You bet we received Drukqs with barely passing attention. “Yeah, yeah, it's fine,” we shrugged, “but when will you release Selected Ambient Works 3, Mr. James? Or redefine IDM again like with so many other prior albums and EPs?” How were we to know our lackadaisical interest in a double-LP opus would all but force the Aphex'd One into permanent production privacy, pulling a near KLF disappearance from the world of music. Yeah, there were all those acid singles as AFX, but not as Aphex Twin, the pseudonym everyone cared about (re: primarily knew). All these meticulously crafted drill’n’bass electro dancing in your brain, the attempts at ‘real’ music with pianos, harpsichords, and other assorted chamber instruments, all wasted on a selfish audience, wondering why Radiohead was going on about this guy so much.

Or, y’know, ol’ Richie had a pile of unused demo music and discarded braindance B-sides lying about and shoved Drukqs out for some quick dosh. Either scenario wouldn’t surprise me.

For all the music on these two CDs, this album honestly does sound like two different ones mashed together. Half of it is made up of the aforementioned drillin’ breaks, the sort that still sounds indebted to Squarepusher but with enough of Aphex Twin’s quirky fills, changes in tone, melancholic ambient, and irreverent sense of humor making it distinctly his own. If this just sounds like retreads of Richard D. James Album, I counter these tunes off Drukqs are far better polished, even the most extreme glitched-out moments having a logical sense of musical flow to them. Plus, the production is incredibly slick, sounds never mashed into senseless noise even as any number of digital bits and pieces are flying about. Of course, by 2001 much of the IDM world had caught up to such tricks, so that folks wouldn’t be as impressed by Aphex’s efforts isn’t surprising. That doesn’t make them any less mint though.

The other half comprises all the classically minded compositions, most running a couple minutes of noodling about on keyboards of various types. The only unique thing about these is how Mr. James recorded a fair amount of the mechanical process involved in these instruments: the shuffling of pedals, the light plonks of ivory within wooden casings, and even his occasional faulty human flubs. For all I know though, this is a technique many pianists employ – I’m simply not well-versed in that field of music for any comparison. All I can tell is Aphex does craft some lovely little ditties, and a few utterly ART-wanky percussion pieces too (that said, Gwarek 2’s fun with headphones!).

Many came around to Drukqs when it seemed no new Aphex Twin material would ever materialize, so the album has gotten it’s just due now. It’s still better served for folks with some prior knowledge of his music before going in though. Not a beginner’s LP, this.

Aphex Twin - Richard D. James Album (Original TC Review)

Warp Records: 1996

(2015 Update:
Oh God, there's such a glaring hole in this review, a critical piece of information I left out. Or forgot. Or didn't bother researching for some lazy reason. Richard D. James Album is officially the first album Richard D. James produced using soft-synths as his primary music hardware, which should be totally obvious by the tonal shift in these tracks. The tickity-tack sounds, cut-up rhythms, micro-sliced sampling, and braindance glitch is common for compositions by way of computer trickery, of which this album his filled with. His prior work, still on analog gear, is more straight-forward in their arrangements, though filled with their own sonic oddities because it's Aphex. Even if that distinction is obvious though, it's an important piece of RDJA's make-up, an essential piece of music journalism I neglected.

Speaking of, man does this review ever read like a stock 'music journalism' piece. I guess that's sorta' good, in that in TranceCritic's late run we were finally coming off polished and professional. Can't say I like reading it now though, much of it feeling functional while sandpapering personality off. Probably didn't like it much then either, at least on a subconscious level. Two year hiatus was nigh.)


IN BRIEF: Aphex-Pusher? Or Square-Twin?

After so many years of being an eccentric pioneer, the perpetually creepy-grinning Richard D. James suddenly was not. Rather, he started following the lead of another eccentric pioneer, Tom Jenkinson. Legend goes James was so impressed by then-unknown Jenkinson’s live show that he quickly signed him to his Rephlex label and released the first Squarepusher album. Then, James himself went and started making tracks with similar aesthetics, where frenetic jazz-fusion rhythms were thrown into a mixing bowl of real-world noises and samples for use in sound banks.

For the Aphex Twin moniker, this was quite new. Granted, there were dabblings here and there (most famously Didgeridoo), but James had carved out his name with gritty drill’n’bass beats, strange yet lovely ambient textures, and, most famously, unique sounds that only he seemed able to create –which is no surprise since the Cornwall native's hobby was gleefully dissecting and experimenting with equipment like some kind of evil vivisectionist. Why would a guy who made a career of sounding like no one else suddenly make music that potentially did (and would when others followed his and Squarepusher's lead)?

Well, aside from the aforementioned Jenkinson influence, fact of the matter was electronic music in general was in transition in the mid-90s, and James was no exception. As a part of the old guard of rave musicians and partiers, he, like so many others, found himself at a crossroad once the original rave scene finally crumbled into separate niches: either find a way to become highly successful in the music industry, or retreat the other way to satisfy the muse. If this album is anything to go by, his initial gut reaction was to retreat – let the other guys (Orbital, Prodigy, et al) have their mainstream. Ironically, the Aphex moniker too would see mainstream success, thanks in huge part to a series of Chris Cunningham videos, but that came later.

Back to the album at hand, it isn’t nearly as over-indulgent as you might expect from the likes of James. It is, however, somewhat jarring on first listen, if for no reason than opening track 4 has some of the tinniest, blunt percs offered from any Aphex Twin tune. Sure, the melody is charming enough, but where are those trademark big crunchy beats, eh? Not here, my friends, and nowhere on this album either. The early-90s Aphex Twin has moved on.

Fingerbib aside, the first half of Richard D. James is probably going to sound like a bunch of glitchy, abrasive, noisy nonsense for those uninitiated to IDM’s more screwy, intense drum programmers. Granted, we’ve had over a decade to get accustomed to such screwbars and nutballs (Venetians Snares, Bogdan Racyzinski, to just name-drop a couple we’ve already covered [at TranceCritic]), but way back in ye’ old 1996, this was some radical sounding stuff. Poor folks were coming into this album looking for more ambient bliss like Blue Calx or drill’n’bass delights like Come As You Mean To Go On, and instead get bizarre metallic clanging in Peek 8245yadayada or contortions of modem dial-up squawks in Carn Marth. You could still hear some of those old Aphex tropes littered about - the melodies James came up with, no matter how distorted or buried they got, still sounded great - but you had to give this album repeated listens to actually get it. Aphex Twin had always been a bit challenging in that regard, but he at least could be counted on cuts that you could easily digest in one sitting. Not so much here though.

Moving on to the second half in short time, James leaves behind most of the harsh sounds in favor of cute’n’cuddly silliness. Result: something far more accessible for those untrained IDM ears out there, and a good load of giddy adulation at the cleverness of it all from the rest. For instance, the brilliantly titled To Cure A Weakling Child splices together pieces of children singing along with infantile melodies (and, of course, intense clippity-cloppity skitter-beats), creating something that’s ridiculously twee, yet very disconcerting whenever James goes into a ‘drum solo’. Yellow Calx aside (which has more in common with older Aphex material due to the synthy backing melodies), Richard D. James wraps up on such silly charming sentiments, even going so far as to include a slide whistle in the final track. It does work wonderfully in a track like Girl/Boy Song, bringing nutty grins to your face in spite of the frenetic drum work, but is simply wacked in Logan Rock Witch, which seems to be James messing around with a bunch of left over samples.

Whatever the case, Richard D. James Album is definitely one of those Must Have releases for connoisseurs of IDM. Along with Squarepusher, it set a precedent for the future direction of this wildly eclectic genre, as several others began following suite and diving off the deep end with such experimental albums (unfortunately to ever-increasing patience-trying results).

For the rest, though, I can sense a little trepidation, especially considering the short running time (finishing out at just under thirty-three minutes). Frankly - and I know this point has been hotly contested over the years - this isn’t the best starting point for Aphex Twin material. Actually, I’m not even sure which album would be, but Richard D. James Album definitely is not it. Due to the very short running times of most of these tracks, the album comes across more like a collection of jingles than songs; great jingles, mind, but jingles nonetheless.

Unless you’re already well versed in IDM sample-skitter-step, I’d hold off on this album until you’ve already taken in one or two Aphex Twin releases. You will eventually enjoy Richard D. James - if not for the eccentric attributes, then for discovering the warmth underneath the eccentric attributes - but at least this way you’ll soften that initial “WTF?” blow to your ears.

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

Boards Of Canada - In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country

Warp Records: 2000

Between the critical nostalgia-soaked darling Music Has The Right To Children and the patchy schizophrenic outing Geogaddi, Boards Of Canada released this unassuming EP titled In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country. Okay, using the word ‘unassuming’ with regards to anything Misters Eoin and Sandison did at that point in their career isn’t quite right – they couldn’t sneeze without legions of fans proclaiming it a new masterpiece. It doesn’t get mentioned as often as their LP efforts though, mostly due to the fact the Boards aren’t typically thought of as an EP act. There’s been a few singles from the albums, but short-form players containing exclusive material comes in small supply from the Scottish duo. A shame really, as I’ve found some of their best material is found in these concise collections of music.

For instance, Amo Bishop Roden is Boards at their best: dusty, warped synth pads playing a charming, warm melody, riding along simple downtempo rhythms. Okay, it’s also sort of Boards at their most predictable, but more often than not Amo Bishop Roden is the type of sound most identify with them and look forward to. Kid For Today offers the other side of vintage BoC, what with lazy, hazy trip-hop beats, mellow organ tones, and field recording ambience. Truthfully, they sound like leftovers from the Musical Children sessions, but didn’t quite fit the overall tone of that album. Praise to the B-sides industry!

Or the “We Got A New Sound We’d Like To Try Out, So Here’s A Sample Track With A Couple Older Left-Overs” industry, if you’re the cynical sort. Yeah, for as nice and classic Boards as the opening two tunes are, the titular cut is something else entirely, and given it’s the name of the EP, odds are high this is what BoC wanted our attention focused on. If anything, it hints at where they’d go next with Geogaddi, exploring an uneasy vibe with lyrics fed through a vocoder and disconcerting laughter of children. A promising look, though I’m not sure if many even suspected that was the track’s intent. Hell, maybe it wasn’t at all, but the Boards must have liked the results enough to indulge further for their following LP. Lastly, final track Zoetrope forgoes any suggestiveness of their ‘70s synth inspirations, a spritely bit of ambience that would find a comfortable home on the records of that era’s classicist-leaning composers.

And that’s about it for In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country. Considering its chronological placement within Boards Of Canada’s discography, it’s not surprising this EP goes overlooked most of the time, completely overtaken by the overbearing shadows Music Has The Right To Children and Geogaddi cast in that era. I honestly only gave it a purchase because Lord Discogs keeps recommending it, no matter what sort of downtempo IDM I may be browsing about for at the time. That and Autechre’s Amber. Shit, now I have to start an Autechre collection, don’t I?

Boards Of Canada - Geogaddi

Warp Records: 2002

Geogaddi came out about the time the Cult Of BoC was at its insufferable worst, ridiculous amounts of love and praise gushing in on any and all music scene message forums you’d happen to frequent. It wasn’t just the ravers slobbering over the Scottish duo either, but the indie kids who never gave ‘techno’ much pause were citing Music Has The Right To Children as the best electronic album ever. Okay, enjoy your stay here; there’s more than enough Boards to go around. For the love of God though, please cease the idolization and trumped-up mythology surrounding these guys - they just make charming music for the after-hours.

Whatever you thought about their PR and fanbase, you couldn’t fault the music, much of which remained quite exceptional for its time. Unfortunately, with all the garrulous hype surrounding them, some backlash against the Boards was inevitable. To take the mighty Boards Of Canada down a peg though, you’d need an album that proved these nostalgic-glazed chill-out Emperors were lacking in bell-bottomed accoutrements. Geogaddi was that album.

Already tasked with the impossibility of following upon Music Has The Right To Children, Sandison and Eoin tried going deeply conceptual with Geogaddi, offering tons of sonic Easter Eggs and numerological nonsense for the true believers to dig and discover with repeated play-throughs. For the rest of us, it’s just a rather dull record. For one thing, despite a track list detailing twenty-three cuts, less than half of those are fully-formed pieces of music, some of which are ridiculously tedious experimental loops. Gyroscope in particular is hopelessly annoying and inane with clunky percussion and muffled child dialog that probably has some cool secret that you’d only understand if you were a real fan of the Boards. Or how about the effects wankery of The Devil Is In The Details, barely a piece of music save the gentle echoing synth pulse underneath garble noises like an evil being of demonic origin contrasted with wisps of ethereal pads and, of course, children laughing. No, wait, how about Magic Window, literally one-minute forty-five seconds of silence, just to reach an album runtime of sixty-six minutes and six seconds (though my player reads 66:04, hah!). Gads, see how pretentious this comes off?

Boards Of Canada’s strength is their seemingly effortless approach to song craft – no matter the depth in execution, the final result is simple and class. Geogaddi, on the other hand, sounds like the Scottish duo pushed and strained themselves in creating cleverness for its own sake, forgetting to write decent music in the process. There’s a flat, sterility to so much of Geogaddi, it’s small wonder it remains their most divisive LP.

That said, it’s the Boards we’re dealing with, and a few mint numbers do find their way in. I don’t doubt some fans will snicker at my inability to decipher all the codes hidden within Geogaddi, but I listen to Boards Of Canada for fuzzy, dayglow chill times, not to solve puzzled bollocks.