Eximia - Visitors

Cryo Chamber: 2018

Dark ambient covers quite a few topics within its bleak oeuvre, but alien invasion isn't very common. While I'm sure there are examples floating about, I've seldom stumbled upon them. This genre would rather crush your sense of being with dronescapes of a universe utterly devoid of life, an empty realm where conscious beings are more a fluke of incidental chemical reactions than part of a grand design. Where man may scream into the void all he wants, but there's no one to hear him, no one to respond back. Having aliens in your dark ambient, even hostile ones, defeats that concept.

Still, Cryo Chamber has never let a concept go untapped, and they found a worthy contender to explore an alien invasion album in Eximia. Lord Discogs doesn't list much of anything from the project, this here Visitors essentially a debut for Dominik Ragancík. The Slovakian has been busy elsewhere though, something of a sound designer and engineer for many other forms of media. Last-dot-FM lists previous credits such as car commercials and video games, including the Mass Effect series. Hmm, isn't that the one where an ancient Eldritch horror of a robotic space-faring race called The Reapers goes around exterminating all biological life, a purging of all organics from the cosmos? Sounds right up dark ambient's alley, that one.

So what kind of music is a sound designer inclined to make? None what so ever! There's barely a hint of any melody or even atonal drone throughout this album. Not until near the end of final track World Without End do we hear any sort of instrumentation, and it's discordant strings at that, not exactly the most cheerful of sounds.

Nay, Eximia has taken Cryo Chamber's 'cinematic drone' manifesto to its most extreme end, the bulk of Visitors consisting of sound effects and field recordings. There's little room for interpretation here, though plenty to tickle the imagination should you sit back with your eyes closed. Like, the opening track, Day One. Wide open spaces, shuffling feet in empty buildings, an eerie wind on the distant horizon, when a low, feral growl echoes upon the air, thunder crackling across the sky... Then, an ominous thrum pierces the atmosphere, a sound so strange, so foreign, so alien, it sets off all your primitive warning signals. Descending from on high, unknown and foreboding. What images play out in your mind as this unfolds will likely depend on what sci-fi you've consumed over the years.

So First Contact cranks the creep-out factor before seemingly going tits-up - guess Amy Adams didn't have much luck in this scenario. Abyss goes even further into the murk, sounding like you're stuck in some specimen vat while hearing horrors carry on from beyond. And if mankind's fate wasn't already clear, Extinction features the ghostly wails of a species in its last throes, muted sirens marking the end of everything. Well, it was a good run, while it lasted. So, which of you tripods has the tea?

Flowers For Bodysnatchers - Asylum Beyond

Cryo Chambers: 2017

I had a couple angle ideas going into this album from Flowers For Bodysnatchers. A brief recap on the project from where we'd left off. Something about the history of messed-up asylum stories. A quip about how it's been so long since I last wrote anything about Cryo Chamber. As I sat down to commit fingers to keyboard though, I got an email notice informing me that Duncan Ritchie is set to release a brand new Flowers For Bodysnatchers album in a week or two. Well that's cool, thinks I, Alive With Scars perhaps providing me with some additional tidbits of info I can use for this review.

I scope out the Bandcamp link, intrigued by the picture of an upright human nervous system seemingly wandering an abandoned Victorian garden. Definitely something I've never seen before, making me wonder what the concept behind the album is. Multiple Sclerosis is the concept, the PR blurb informs, a wasting away of one's body by its own immune system. A condition Duncan has lived with for the past decade. Oh. Oh my!

Suddenly making an album about 'the Suicide Forest' takes on a whole other light. Not that this has much to do with Asylum Beyond, but it's difficult shaking all that from my head. Must move on for now though, lest I use up any talking points for whenever I do get around to discussing Alive With Scars proper-like.

Asylum Beyond has plenty 'nuff material to dig into, a 'ripped from the headlines' tale of antique shop keepers, occult rituals, lunatic hospitals, and mass murders. Fairly traditional horror fiction topics, all told, but something of a departure for Mr. Ritchie, who's albums tend to deal with mood music and psychological depression. With its ample field recordings and sparse ambience, Asylum Beyond comes off one part film soundtrack, and one part radio drama, though lacking much dialog beyond your requisite Latin chanting; can't deal with the occult without that Latin chant.

And thus I've come to yet another dark ambient album conundrum, wherein talking about it seems a futile effort. Sure, I could detail all the creepy things that go on, like heavy, echoing footsteps in abandoned warehouses in Midnight My Dearest Midnight, or discordant string swells in Ravenfield (the asylum's name), or the cheeky sample of an old-timey symphony recording at the end Phantasma, but my detailing lacks context without hearing it as part of the album's narrative whole. Asylum Beyond is bookended by creepy piano pieces, but without taking the journey of deepening madness from beginning to end, they lack the poignancy Duncan's tale offers.

Dark ambient isn't generally the most musically inclined of genres out there, usually settling for mood and atmospherics. Strangely, it's even rarer to hear an album that's this detailed in its storytelling. Simon Heath definitely indulges it with his Atrium Carceri and Sabled Sun projects, and I'm sure there's others, but it's a treat to hear another take the challenge on just the same.

Hybrid - I Choose Noise

Distinct'ive Records: 2006

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

I Choose Noise is what I was expecting Morning Sci-Fi to sound like. Which is funny, because by the year 2006, I thought Hybrid was well onto their 'we are soundtrack composers now' stage. Like, I don't recall much promotion for I Choose Noise's singles. I'm sure tracks like Dogstar and Falling Down did well enough on the DJ circuit, but how represented your tunes are on compilations tends to signify actual popularity (yes, even in the mid-'00s), and if folks were mostly clamouring for a trend-whorish remix of an old single, well...

For those who'd been clamouring for another Wide Angle though, I Choose Noise finds Truman and Healings bringing the sophisticated songcraft back to the fore, with all the acoustic guitar interludes and orchestral arrangements some undoubtedly felt lacking in Morning Sci-Fi. Now, I liked the 'dumber' music of Morning Sci-Fi, but that's because I feel Hybrid are at their best when making 'dumb' music, utilizing their breakbeat science in ways my reptile brain interprets as transcendent (Live Angle still their best LP, no doubt).

And there are some of those wonderfully 'dumb' moments on I Choose Noise, including the titular cut, big aggressive beats boshing things out as an urgent string section wonderfully builds tension. Last Man Standing gets funkier with the breakbeat science, harking back to the days when such tunes were found aplenty and cyber-action movies of the late '90s – how odd to hear it in the year 2006, I wager. Hooligan Spirit dips its toes into boshing electo, as though the cyborg police are on the march for criminal hackers, and Dream Stalker gets Peter Hook back on the bass guitar for another smooth slice of progressive breaks that wouldn't sound out of place in a movie credit roll.

Ah, hm, y'know, I'm getting quite the sense of these tunes being written with films in mind. Hybrid had released a collection of music intended for potential movies the year prior (Scores), and while these are far denser in arrangement than simple background fodder, I can't say any real hook or melody latches on the same way older tunes have. Dogstar is a well crafted single, with all the things folks who love Hybrid come to enjoy (strong rhythms, strong lead singer, nice instrumentation, smart use of an orchestra), but Lord help me if I had to hum it to anyone. You'd think tunes like Falling Down or Until Tomorrow, with actual choruses, would have some sort of hook, but Hybrid's production smooths everything out into a dense wall-of-sound almost to a fault. At least I remember Choke for that weird bell tone over a trip-hop beat.

I Choose Noise ends on another big orchestral anthem of Just For Today, clearly trying to ape Wide Angle's climax of Finished Symphony. It doesn't quite hit the mark, but as a whole, I liked this album more, even if the individual tunes don't stick with me as much as Wide Angle's. Weird how that works sometimes.

God Body Disconnect - Sleeper's Fate

Cryo Chamber: 2017

Definitely a surprise that Bruce Moallem returned to the story arc he started in Dredge Portals. How much is left to tell about a man lost in a coma? We've already explored the past memories, the self-reflections, and the damning judgments. All that remains is the final climb up Jacob's ladder, but the last track off Dredge Portals made it clear the narrator wasn't destined for such a fate any time soon, trapped in a forever loop wandering his own psychosis. And perhaps that still remains, though taking in Sleeper's Fate, I get a sense there's conclusion here, a new path taken behind a previously locked door. Literally, one of the many field recordings being a key unlocking a door.

Y'know, I'm not so sure I can call what God Body Disconnect does with sounds is field recordings. When most producers make use of such sounds, it's as sonic dressing, ambient canvasing, and other 'aural painting' analogies you may think of. You may hear babbling brooks or falling rain or stampeding wildebeest, but it's all in service of setting mood and tone for the composition being presented, seldom a narrative device. Mr. Moallem, however, is so precise and focused in his use of such sounds, it's like I'm watching a movie play out without watching anything on a screen.

The opening titular cut, for instance, places us back at the scene of the narrator's attack. There's falling rain, distant thunder, radio chatter from nearby cop cars, a screaming ambulance arriving, and through it all, a dying man's haggard gasping breath, his throat choking from blood welling up through his mouth. And I'm right there, in this man's viewpoint, as vividly as though watching such images play out on celluloid. Only after this scene plays out do we get some music playing, a sombre piece of strings, pads, and echoing guitar, though even this feels like a 'credit roll' portion of the album before we return to the actual film.

Sleeper's Fate essentially plays out like this, long stretches of 'foley recordings' (can I call this a thing?), with the narrator traversing empty corridors and past hazy memories. It's not too dissimilar to Dredge Portals in that way, but whereas the atmosphere of that album could feel damning and claustrophobic, there's more sense of openness here, lighting once shadowed recesses of the narrator's state of mind.

To put a finer point on it, the whole reason our viewpoint character is stuck in a coma is because, no matter how much he thinks he wants death, he just can't let go of life. Sleeper's Fate is about finally giving in, and the release that provides. The back-half of this album features the most music, almost all of it the sort of soothing ambient that's antithetical to a dark ambient label. Has our narrator awoken from his torturous Hell? Is he walking in the literal Garden Of Eden? Guess we'll have to wait for a third God Body Disconnect for an answer.

Sabled Sun - 2148

Cryo Chamber: 2016

After completing his third Sabled Sun album, 2147, Simon Heath put out the idea of taking the project into its past - prior to the current protagonist’s cryo awakening, and to the point of when it all went wrong. While I’m sure some would love a little insight into the Sabled Sun backstory, I can’t say I was one of them. The project’s strength lies not in How Things Came To Be, but rather How Might Things Move On. Whatever caused this cataclysm can be revealed through the course of our protagonist’s journey, for seeing how he copes with this hostile environment is a far more compelling narrative, especially where dark ambient is concerned, what with the genre’s frequent themes of isolationism and all.

Regardless, it appeared Mr. Heath was content in letting the current focus of the Sabled Sun tale take a respite of some sort, ending 2147 with a sufficient amount of hope as allowable given the circumstances. After the first two years/albums presented us with despair and ruin, the third showed signs of recovery, a world not completely dead, though undoubtedly untamed and feral, civilization in total remission if any remained. Though but a glimmer, it was enough optimism to look forward to the future. Thus, it seemed our protagonist had enough of his sickly wanderings, and went back into his cryo sleep, perhaps reviving in a world better recovered from when he first woke. Sadly for him, one year later is hardly enough time.

Again, though the specifics are left vague enough for your own interpretation, 2148 does mark a departure from previous Sabled Sun albums, in that our protagonist is dealing with a different situation. Instead of wandering desolation and ruin in search of answers and survival, something more specific is taking place. Upon re-awakening, the tone is more claustrophobic than before, an environment much different than the one 2147 left off. There’s less sense of open world discovery, instead poking about a specific location, as though trapped in a facility that, while not fully functional, is still active enough that it raises questions of who left the power on. Is it automated? Might there be other survivors? How did he even end up here? And what, pray tell, is Project Locus Arcadia? It certainly must be important, given it’s the second longest track on 2148, and possibly the most ‘musical’ among all the typical sci-fi field recordings and dark ambient drone expected of a Sabled Sun CD. If anything, Project Locus Arcadia sounds like an homage to John Carpenter, though done in Cryo Chamber’s brand of post-apocalyptic tone.

But more than that… dude! Locus Arcadia again! I’ve joked about this label having continuity between their releases, but does this actually confirm they’re going this route? Does this mean we’ll have to start collecting Cryo Chamber albums like comic books to keep speed with their ongoing narrative? Has any label attempted such a thing!? This is, of course, all suppositional, but still… Dude…!

Atrium Carceri - The Untold

Cryo Chamber: 2013

Yeah, not even the comparatively small block of albums that the letter ‘U’ occupies within my collection is free of a Cryo Chamber release. For sure absolute runt sections like ‘J’, ‘Q’, ‘V’, and ‘X-Y-Z’ lack them, but give the label time – I’m sure there’s some Old One deity that has one of those letters in its name, waiting in the queue for A Cryo Chamber Collaboration. Or I could simply pick up the first Cryo Chamber CD, Atrium Carceri’s Void, help speed that the process up. The… O.C.D… compels me…!

After spending much of his new print’s early existence providing digital releases of old and new material, it wasn’t long before Simon Heath took his original dark ambient project into new territory. No longer content in exploring cellblocks and seishinbyouins, he pondered what lay beyond the ruined city-scapes, whether there was more mythos to unearth. The Untold essentially re-launched Atrium Carceri with this in mind, to give his long standing followers the untold story of this broken world. And hey, if you’re just joining us because you wandered in as a Sabled Sun fan (*cough*), it’s a handy jumping on point without getting bogged down in a bunch of back story or loose continuity. Who knew dark ambient projects could be so alike to comic books?

Even with a glance at the track list, The Untold’s narrative is clear as day (heh, genre oxymoron). The Expedition, Unlocking The Seal, The Way Down, Catacombs Of The Forgotten… pretty obvious we’re on an archeological expedition here, though given the occult nature of Atrium Carceri’s themes, we might want someone with a little guts in our lead. Who knows what ancient treasures both grand and gross lurk in this forgotten realm?

The music, such as it is, alternates between sample-heavy works painting a cinematic canvas guiding you deep into this journey, and droning dirges reflecting the despondent, suffocating mood as you make your way through. A few moments offer a respite, such as crackling, ancient piano pieces at the tail end of A Flickering Hope and throughout Comfort Of The Night Mother, but the surrounding noises and droning ambience within these tracks make it clear the darkness is forever lurking at the edges of whatever feeble light you’re huddled around. Some garbled, menacing dialog forces its way into The Traitor as mournful pads and crunching, stomping static makes it sound as though someone’s being led to execution. Great Old One features distant, echoing horns as rain pelts away at your surroundings, as though you’re coming into view of a crumbling cathedral where whatever civilization once existed here found solace. And if you thought there was any positive denouement to The Untold, a twelve-minute long deep drone awaits you at the end with Ego Death.

I rather prefer the follow-up to this album, Metropolis, in that there’s a grander sense of journey in the Atrium Carceri mythos there. This one’s still a solid entry in Simon’s world building though.

Aegri Somnia - Monde Obscure

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Oh, dark ambient, may you wrap your bleak, inky tendrils over my confused being, leading me into dreams, reflections, and realms that are as twisted reality to our own. The Dread Year Of 2016 shows no remorse, but it cannot compare to the strangeness your scene provides in a multitude of ways. Near futures where we blew it all up (us maniacs!), peaks into dimensions perverting our hypercritical sense of moral decency into twisted parodies upon ourselves, inner and outward sojourns into extreme isolation from humanity’s failings, pondering how the self can carry on in the face of so much strife and decay. Forever searching for those specks and glimmers of light and hope in an unyielding chaos of black.

I did not intend for this genre to provide so much escapist solace this year, but damn if it doesn’t do the job better than most of my traditional standbys. Or maybe it’s that whole ‘new novelty’ factor, sounds and songcraft that is fresher for yours truly. Oh, but that’s just so much less poetic.

Anyhow, Monde Obscure is yet another Cryo Chamber album I’m reviewing, because of course it is. I promise though, this will be it from the label for… a little while? There’s only a few left in this endless backlog, so they gotta’ be spaced out better than this last batch of EVERY. OTHER. CD. Though I’m quite enraptured by a lot of this label’s output, a little more variety needs to kick in soon. I didn’t undertake this wacky listening project just to hear the same ol’ over and over.

ANYhoo, this album comes from Aegri Somnia, or Jurica Santek to the Croatian Crab-Lovers Committee [citation needed]. The Latin alias translates to ‘The Patient’s Dreams’ in Google, referring to fever dreams, or dreams induced from madness – something to do with a suffering sickness. And while the project has existed in some capacity over the last decade, Mr. Santek hasn’t done too much with it, a sprinkling of a smattering of released material over that time. Still, with digital albums like Nothingness and Script, he developed enough of a cult following (yeah yeah, ‘cult’, ‘dark ambient’, har har), that Cryo Chamber gave him the greenlight to put out a new album under their banner, spiffy hardcopy CD and all.

With cover art of a burnt-out husk of an apartment tower, you’d expect Monde Obscure some post-apocalyptic business, but the tale behind this album is a much different. Rather, this charred building serves as a portal to another realm, one not for the faint of heart. As dark ambient records go, this one is heavy on the field recordings, music almost incidental to the whole. There are snippets of piano, pad, choir, and tonal drone, but Mr. Santek would rather guide you through creaking infrastructure, dripping water, burning hallways, and distant echoes of crowds shuffling beyond this mortal coil. Feels like I’m playing one of the good Silent Hill game while listening to this.

Randal Collier-Ford, Flowers For Bodysnatchers, Council Of Nine, God Body Disconnect - Locus Arcadia

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Scaling back from the super-mega-ultra concept of ‘ALL The Roster Work On Singular Label Project’, we have ‘A Few Guys On Label Work On Concept Album’. Not under a group pseudonym though, nor with any specific collaboration between each artist beyond working around the theme as laid out by Bruce Moallem (God Body Disconnect). Cryo Chamber's done something similar as this before, an album called Tomb Of Empires, and I can’t help but continuously marvel at how much creative freedom Simon Heath offers all these morbid musicians from across the globe. Still, despite each contributor providing a single (long) track to Locus Arcadia, this is more than a compilation. Applying the trusty ol’ ‘dark ambient as storytelling’ analogy, each piece is rather like a short story set within a specific setting, though whether we’re dealing with the same protagonist throughout, I’m not sure.

Locus Arcadia is the brain-child of Bruce Moallem, whose backstory I’ve detailed in the God Body Disconnect album Dredge Portals. Along for the ride is Council Of Nine, one Maximillion Olivier, whom I’ve also detailed to some degree with his two albums Dakhma and Diagnosis. Flowers For Bodysnatchers joins the haunted sci-fi party, though I didn’t get as heavy into Duncan Ritchie’s history while writing up his Aokigahara album (the forest history ate most of my word count). And finally there’s Randal Collier-Ford, who’s making his debut with this blog! Well, technically he did on the Cryo Chamber Collaboration of Azathoth, but who could tell where his portions of that jumbo project began and ended. Ah, maybe if I’d taken in some of his prior work, I’d figure out what his particular dark ambient attributes are. For now, all I’ve got to go with is the opening piece on Locus Arcadia.

Into The Maw Where All Men Die certainly is an auspicious title to kick off a dark sci-fi outing, and the music within is suitably apt. Menacing drone, mechanical breathing, claustrophobic mood, with a touch of wonderment at the end as you take in the grandeur of whatever deserted, orbiting super-structure you’re wandering about. Flowers For Bodysnatchers opts more for a pure ‘haunted house’ vibe with his piece, Black Echo Of Morgues And Memory: lots of distant clanking across empty halls, creepy sounds clawing at metal chambers nearby, all leading to an unleashed cacophonic fury of whatever horror lurks erupting on your senses. Mr. Ritichie’s use of natural instruments definitely plays a crucial role in his piece. Council Of Nine, meanwhile, brings things down to a steady ambient drone, Pale Sister Of Sanctuary Lost an almost calm and soothing respite from FfB’s intense outing. He still maintains the desolate space drone that permeates Locus Arcadia though, for God Body Disconnect must take us out in an incredibly cinematic piece. Using a Death Star-tonne of sci-fi sound effects, Prisoner’s Sacrifice Facing Arcadia could be a mini-movie in its own right, complete with soaring score and gentle piano denouement at the end. How Spielbergian of Maollem.

God Body Disconnect - Dredge Portals

Cryo Chamber: 2016

How? How does Cryo Chamber keep finding these guys? Like, has the dark ambient scene always been this flush with talent, but seldom given much exposure because, y’know, it’s dark ambient? The genre certainly doesn’t have much rep’ outside morbid sorts, nor is it the most inviting environment for the curious passerby. I certainly had little interest in digging beyond the most basic cliff’s notes sampling, and likely would have remained that way had Ultimae not sent me that Krusseldorf album by accident. Which led me to discovering other Simon Heath works. Which led me to Sabled Sun. Which led me to Cryo Chamber. Which keeps leading me to all these neat, creative artists exploring intriguing facets of the human psyche through cinematic music. Do other electronic scenes have this going for them? Like, how about Simpsonwave, eh? Yeah, no.

God Body Disconnect is one Bruce Moallem, Dredge Portals his debut under the alias. His only prior claim to fame was as part of the death metal band Dripping, which has something of a cult following in that scene, their scant CDs commanding a surprising amount of money on the open market. Not that he actively sought fame, and didn’t do much beyond those early days, mostly providing music support for friends and local bands. He kept doing his own stuff too, but little of it was intended for folks beyond his close associates to hear. Then, after hearing what Cryo Chamber was offering, he sent some demos to the label, if anything for feedback on the sounds he was cultivating. They went one further, immediately signing him. And here we are today, some guy now reviewing it after only getting into dark ambient barely a year prior. The Fates make bizarre connections sometimes.

So Dredge Portals. The concept is more concrete than most dark ambient albums go, of a narrator trapped in a coma, explicitly detailing the thoughts, worries, and fears of being in such a state within the opener Rise Of The Dormant Host. From there, Dredge Portals takes you on the sort of suggestive journey this scene – and especially these Cryo Chamber guys – so often excels at. Second track The Reflection Tower is calm, soothing ambient, with sounds of children laughing having me conjuring the narrator remembering an innocent youth, now lost as all his sins come back to haunt him. Descend With Demons is as dark and droning as you’d expect from the title, and Heart Of The Mirror’s Abyss combines the two disparate moods into a remarkable piece of widescreen drone and dub.

Dredge Portals does grow a tad repetitive in tone with its final run of tracks, but by then I’m well consumed by God Body Disconnect’s version of Jacob’s Ladder to care of such quibbles. And hey, Dreaming Of Glaciers does offer a rather gentle mood to end the tale. Save a disquieting bit of final dialog, seemingly rewinding the narrator’s time alive – forever trapped in looping reflection.

Atrium Carceri - Metropolis

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Of course I’d give Atrium Carceri a go in my Cryo Chamber splurge. This label may not even exist without Simon Heath’s early success with the project. In short order he carved a deep incision within the dark ambient scene, injecting it with many albums under the guise. Ew, sorry for the metaphor, but when one looks at that early material on Cold Meat Industry - with albums like Cellblock or Seishinbyouin (translation: mental hospital), and Eldritch horror cover art as found on Kapnabatai - Lord knows it gives you all the fidgety creeps right out of Silent Hill. Though I’ve much fondness for Mr. Heath’s Sabled Sun material, I’d need a sturdy frame of mind to take on those Atrium Carceri LPs. Or, y’know, bulk buy them and see what happens.

His early albums were considered instant classics, no small feat considering the pedigree Cold Meat Industry carries for connoisseurs of dark ambient. Most of those focused on singular spaces though, derelict buildings and decayed populaces, creating a loose mythology in the process. When he resurrected Atrium Carceri for Cyro Chamber, Simon saw more potential in the project, expanding the early lore to encompass an entire civilization. What could have caused such rot among these people? Who were those in power that allowed it to happen? Where did all these strange obelisks come from? Were there any survivors able or willing to unearth these secrets, to perhaps rebuild? Yeah, the ‘exploration of dying/extinct societies’ is pretty consistent with Mr. Heath’s dark ambient work. Heck, he even scored a game called… The Old City: Leviathan. Play to your strengths, yo’.

Metropolis sets out to unearth some of the Atrium Carceri secrets, a mini-quest of discovery from The Gargantuan Tower, Across The Seas Of The Dead to a Decrepit City, through an Industrial District into the Heart Of The Metropolis, where you’ll encounter The Cowled Seers, and perhaps unlock The Machine that governs everything. Though capable standalones, each of the eleven tracks plays best like a chapter in this album’s narrative. While specifics are seldom detailed about what transpires, Heath coaxes your imagination wonderfully with his cinematic songcraft.

The Dark Mother provides a gloomy dirge with a thudding rhythm, music for your trek in this inhospitable world. Across The Sea Of The Dead captures an endlessly bleak expanse, charred clouds suffocating the few flashes of distant lightening. Black Needle drones with atonal pads and distorted bells, as though revealing piercing, deformed towers against a blackened sky. Sacred Slab crushes you with drone while offering a tantalizing, tangible mystery within. 200 Days has a bit of narration offered, a storied recap as told by a messenger long since deceased. Industrial drone grinds and clatters about the metropolis, even as those cowled seers dutifully task themselves with maintaining whatever it is this ancient machine does. We may have uncovered the Metropolis secrets, but there sure isn’t much we can do about it. Well, maybe in a sequel, there’ll be hope.

Juno Reactor - Labyrinth

Metropolis: 2004

Labyrinth feels like the culmination of years of experimentation coming together, talent finally reaching the vision Juno Reactor saw possible (holy shit, what a pretentious way to open a review...). There were early glimmers of Ben Watkins breaking his project out from bog-standard psy trappings, but it wasn't until Shango where he took his first proper risky steps. It was regarded as... well, I'll get to that eventually. It must have given Watkins a strong shot of confidence though, as Labyrinth goes full bore outside the psy comfort zone as anyone could get.

Right, so part of that was likely getting more soundtrack opportunities, and the success of The Matrix franchise didn’t hurt in giving Juno Reactor more exposure (not to mention greenbacks). It got Watkins thinking bigger and bolder while putting together Labyrinth, as there’s quite a cinematic tone to the whole album. The opening salvo of Conquistador I & II may as well be your first act – the former dark, quiet and moody as the atmosphere of some desolate Spanish landscapes reveals itself, the latter erupting into a big action set piece with those galloping beats, tribal drums, and snarling lyrics (Danny Trejo stars). It’s basically what the opening two cuts off Shango would sound like if they sexed it up and downed LSD-soaked tequila afterwards. Awesome!

The rest of Labyrinth plays out in similar fashion, tracks jamming various genres into a blender, and everything coming out tasty. Want a little more thrash in your Juno? Try Giant, but stay for the operatic vocals too. Still hanker for the old psy? Mona Lisa Overdrive’s got you covered, but with more tribal fusion than you got on Bible Of Dreams. One of the few folks that found Watkins’ best ever single was Pistolero? Here’s War Dogs for your fix, now with backing orchestra! Prefer the mellow moments on prior albums? The one-two soft-punch of Mutant Message and Angels And Men should serve you fine, though the former uses its calm as a prelude to a musical eruption mid-song.

All this is fine and dandy, but everyone knows you save your best for the climax at the end, and Navaras serves as a perfect capper to Labyrinth. Apocalyptic choir, piercing industrial synths and beats, orchestral swells, tribal chants, and a meditative breather in the middle before erupting with the bedlam at the end again. Wait, how am I fighting the final boss of a Final Fantasy game all of a sudden here?

I can see why Mr. Watkins felt compelled to explore ever further deviations from the psy sound he grew popular with on Gods & Monsters - how could he top Labyrinth? Whether it’s the best Juno Reactor album remains open to discussion, as many still prefer the older sound to the genre exploration found in the post-Shango albums, which admittedly continues to be hit or miss. Labyrinth finds the mark about as close to flawless as he’s gotten though, and is definitely worth your time and pennies.

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!