Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works Volume II

Sire Records Company: 1994

For many out there, this was their first Aphex Twin album. Mine too, in fact, though I bought it along with …I Care Because You Do and Richard D. James Album - when you’re diving into the Aphex’d one’s catalog, there’s no sense half-assing it, right? Selected Ambient Works Volume II was most fans’ first LP experience with the man from the lands of Cornish though, thanks in no small part to the abundance of recommendations it continuously received. Liked that droning ambient track off Radiohead’s Kid A? SAW II. Want more music like Boards Of Canada? SAW II. Need to complete your Very Important Ambient Albums collection? SAW II. Curious about Aphex Twin but hate ‘techno’ beats? Come To Daddy EP.

The internet has no shortage of metaphoric write-ups and poetic praise gushed upon this double-LP. Hell, I recall a PR blurb on the wrapping stating something like “if the Monolith from 2001 could make music, it’d sound like this album”, which is about as pretentious an assessment of droning ambience as you can get. Couple that with packaging that screams “THIS ARE ART!” (non-titles, abstract track depictions), and you’ve an album from the ‘rave ranks’ highly instrumental in electronic music’s continued ascent into credible discourse.

Not that it’s undeserved. The compositions crafted across these two CDs truly are remarkable in their bizarre, warped approach to tones and timbres. You often do feel like you’re navigating realms of the outworld, occasionally brought back to an earthly grounding only to be charted off to alien dreamscapes shortly after. At times Mr. James creates pieces of such lovely, soothing calm, you feel like being wrapped in a warm blanket of sonic bliss (Cliffs, Rhubarb, Lichen, Z Twig). Other times he’ll drag you through weird scenery, images distorted into lucid abstractions (Spots, White Blur 2, Radiator, Domino, Grass, Parallel Strips, Curtains, Tree). Some tracks offer a guiding rhythm, and thus a bit more structure to the proceedings (Blue Calx, Shiny Metal Rods, Blur, Hexagon, Weathered Stone). And in a few more pieces, it sounds like the Aphex’d one is just messing around with sounds and effects for their own sake, getting his musique concrete on because why not (White Blur 1, Grey Strip, Tassels). Yes, I’m referring to these compositions by their assumptive picture names – it’s easier that way.

Selected Ambient Works Volume II can seem a daunting excursion for some, a two-hour plus dive into various sonic doodles with no real rhyme or reason for their being. No doubt a few of the ultra-abstract sorts could have been jettisoned while lengthier pieces shortened. And yet, despite some tracks not sticking to my brain matter as memorably as others, I can’t imagine this album as less than its current sum. There’s honestly enough variety across twenty-four works (twenty-five for vinyl enthusiasts, lucky bastards) that you’re constantly engaged by each piece, just to hear where Aphex goes next with it. No wonder everyone keeps hoping for Selected Ambient Works Volume 3.

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.

Frank Bretschneider - Rhythm

Raster-Noton: 2007

Frank Bretschneider's the sort of producer I should know more about, given his long history in the realm of experimental glitch. And with that descriptor, you're likely thinking he's part of Mille Plateaux's legacy, one of their key acts at turn of the century. In fact, Frank goes further back than that, having a partnership in similar-styled label Raster-Noton where he released music as Komet before joining Mille as well. His chosen sound wasn't the sort I was actively seeking out way back when, but my so-called maturity of age has provided a measure of interest and respect of the whole 'clicks 'n cuts' scene. Thus it's only natural that my first forays into Mr. Bretschneider's discography should come when I first took my early dips within the Mille Plateaux brotherhood, which happened to be this particular album titled Rhythm. Well, not quite.

Nay, I got this from a trawling of Juno Records in search of new material to review for TranceCritic. It must have been one of the year's lean months, when hyped releases are scarce and I'd take chances on names unfamiliar to my eyes. Such was the case with ol' Frank here, and as Rhythm was filed under Juno's techno section, I thought I might end up with some kick-ass 4am bangin' shit. Oh, 2007 Sykonee, you silly naive fool, did you forget what year you were in?

That Rhythm ended up being a study in minimal beats shouldn't have surprised me, had I done a little prior back checking into Mr. Bretschneider's discography. These blind dives though, what thrills they often reveal, my uncanny sixth sense in judging albums by their covers seldom leading me astray. This LP's called Rhythm, and by God and his DJ, there's no way you can mess that up. No way at all. Except when one does.

Or rather, the Komet man's approach to this album is a strict exercise in form over function, which does fit his creative outlook, so success on those terms I guess. Dear Lord though, is Rhythm tedious: clicks, fuzz, and pops utilized in crafting beats, some low bass, and nothing else. Hell, I can't even call these 'beats', as that implies something that can latch onto your reptile brain and get you moving funky. I can hear a groove existed at some point in these tracks’ development – a hip-hop shuffle here or a breakbeat bounce there – but Bretschneider’s stripped everything down to the aforementioned clicks and such. The result is nine sterile, soulless tracks bereft of the very thing the album’s title implies should be there.

Rhythms can serve as pure head music. Just look at the spazzy braindance scene – ain’t no way folks are dancing to Squarepusher at his most insane. And I’ve heard minimalist, clicky stuff that wasn’t so dull either, though often spiced up with supplemental prefrontal cortex food (tone, hiss, pad!). Not on this album though. Bretschneider deserves another chance, but Rhythm soured me to exploring his material further anytime soon.

Solar Fields - Reflective Frequencies

Ultimae Records: 2001/2008

You’d think Solar Fields’ debut album would get talked up often, but it’s hardly ever mentioned. For most, Magnus Birgersson’s project starts whenever they were first exposed to one of his later albums. The psy scene caught on to him with Blue Moon Station, the trance scene joined in with EarthShine, and most chill-out aficionados hitched their wagons with Movements. I’m sure late-comers were aware older Solar Fields LPs existed, but only the hardcore would invest in them, in part due to scarcity of limited issue runs. Then again, if you’re really curious, there’s always the digital realm, but that’s denying experiencing a Solar Fields album proper-like, hard copy in hand on a full sound system. You know I’m right!

*Ahem*. In all seriousness, I think Reflective Frequencies goes neglected because of how un-Solar Fieldsy it generally sounds. While Mr. Birgersson often hops genres with every full-length outing, he always retains a distinct emotional core within his music that’s uniquely his own, a warmth that can melt the coldest of hearts. Such attributes are seriously lacking on his debut though, where sound experiments and stark ambient techno rule the day. In all honesty, Reflective Frequencies sounds very much like a Future Sound Of London album, and I’ve no doubt you could fool a casual listener of that should one be so tempted to.

There’s future-shock trip-hop (6.7, Blue Light…, …Red Vortex, Inherit Velocity, Zero Rotation), cybernetic sound collages (Echoing Spectrum, Self Transforming Experience (First Movement), Overlapping Particles, Nea 3, Breathing Neutron Empire), and trippy ambient techno as heard echoing through dead cities (Floating Channels, Zone 12, Outlined Surfaces). Tell me those descriptors don't sound like a long lost mid-’90s FSOL album. And dammit, I know I shouldn’t make that comparison, but it’s hard shaking off. If you add a little extra psychedelia and a conceptual narrative to Reflective Frequencies, you’d have the album most folks expected Cobain and Dougans to deliver about the same year rather than The Isness.

Which still isn’t the best selling point for a Solar Fields debut album, is it? Ah well, for an ‘ambient techno by way of FSOL’ LP, Reflective Frequencies is plenty good, and contain little touches throughout that hint at the music Mr. Birgersson would craft in the future. Zero Rotation has a small amount of prog groove bubbling underneath, while Self Transforming Experience (Second Movement) and Outlined Surfaces are more in line with sort of psy-chill Ultimae was interested in promoting going forward. It wouldn’t surprise me if ol’ Magnus felt compelled to fall lock-step with the blissy vibes of the psy scene rather than continue exploring harsh electronics.

The liner notes mention Reflective Frequencies was recorded in 1999, and does it ever sound like a ‘90s album, many sections fitting for a cyberpunk thriller or PC game. It’s an odd outlier in the Solar Fields and Ultimae canon, an example of both producer and label still discovering their latent talents in a cybernetic realm. How Gibsony of them.

Kraftwerk - Radio-Activity

Astralwerks: 1975/2009

No, Kraftwerk, don't do it! No one's ready for a concept album from your group. Lengthy songs, sure that's fine, but sound experiments and quirky odes to Ohms is going too far. It'll be years before your promising, influential career will rebound from Radio-Activity. True, it'll all work out in the future-tense, when everyone goes back to these disregarded efforts with reverent eyes and ears. Can you afford that gap though? No, not yet, so just go make another Autobahn, over and over and over. Curses, why doesn't this time-travel portal let me interact with the past? More radioactive power, that’s what I need. Once accomplished, maybe I then could use this time-travel portal to go back a few minutes in the past and convince myself starting this review in such a goofy manner is a bad idea, yes?

The German quartet though, they had a vision, one where the future was now (then), and leading us into this undiscovered country were some of mankind’s greatest scientific discoveries of the last hundred years: the invisible realms of electromagnetic radio waves, and the radioactive energy emanating from everything that surrounds us. This wasn’t just Kraftwerk’s attitude either, as many Germans looked to the years ahead with fascination and optimism (the recent past was something of a sore spot) – it’s no coincidence many early electronic musicians hailed from Deutschland. That the Dusseldorf band would temporarily abandon the autobahn to explore things like transistors and Geiger counters makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, where Radio-Activity is concerned, a couple problems arise.

One, those darn experimental bits. As pieces of a concept album exploring the different aspects of radio transmissions and radiation, they’re fine, but man does it ever derail whatever musical momentum Radio-Activity has going for it. Okay, Geiger Counter is a cool opener, and The Voice Of Energy has that wicked-awesome Kraftwerk robot voice utilized for the first time. News though? Sorry, muffled German broadcasting items of the day isn’t compelling, especially following Intermission pings. And Radio Stars could have been a neat little bit of space-meditation if all those bleeps weren’t so grating.

Still, all this talk of radio activity, concepts of electromagnetic radiation, and evil-sounding robot voices, and it’s small surprise a few folks were sore at Kraftwerk’s seemingly thumbs-up for the nuclear age, potential nasty side-effects and all. Even the bouncy, chirpy tunes the group’s known for are rather absent, much of Radio-Activity cold and sterile as musique concrete of old. When our intrepid Germans do get melodic, it’s almost always melancholic (Radioland, Ohm Sweet Ohm) or ominous (Radioactivity, Uranium). Things aren’t out-and-out bleak on this album, but it sure isn’t as campy-fun as Autobahn or pop-tasty as their later work. At least Airwaves and Antenna bring a little peppy novelty for our listening consideration.

If you fear not these factors, then Radio-Activity is worth checking out. Though it’s the least essential of Kraftwerk’s Fabulous Five albums, it’s still interesting hearing the group discover their way through new ideas and gear.

The Orb - Pomme Fritz

Island Red Label: 1994

Perhaps the best era to step into The Orb's world as a doe-eyed ambient newbie was around 1995 (yeah, that year again). Though the group's discography was but a third of its current size, the scant choices for an album plunge were bona-fide classics, as decreed by the Ambient Emporium Consortium Collective. Simply walk into a shop and pick any ol' Orb CD you found sitting on the shelves, confident that the plaudits graced upon them were sure and true. That's the theory anyway, and undoubtedly worked fine for those living in the UK or major metropolitan districts with A&B Sounds and Tower Records aplenty. For a west coast Canadian teenager with paltry sums of money, however, paying big bucks for double-disc albums was simply unthinkable (to say nothing of the curious scarcity of U.F. Orb and Orbus Terrarum in those days). But what's this? Why, a little album at half the price of a regular LP. What a perfect entry point, thought I. Surely I will learn all that I need to know about The Orb from Pomme Fritz! Wait, what are you doing with that rug I currently stand upon?

Look, it isn’t much surprise that whatever druggy tomfoolery was going down in The Orb studios would manifest itself with patience sapping experimentation. I guess folks should be thankful it was mostly relegated to this stopgap, and honestly only two tracks at that, titled More Gills Less Fishcakes and We’re Pastie To Be Grill You. There’s irreverent sampling, bizarre tape manipulations, occasional ear-wormy bits that go absolutely nowhere, splashy über-dubbed rhythms, and a few instances of lovely spaced-out synth work.

Fortunately, they took that one good element and made it a prominent feature in Bang ‘Er ‘n Chips, working it into a minimalist excursion into ambient dub. It also features some of the group’s vintage clever style of sampling: a woman talks about wishing upon stars at night (with billions and billions to choose from!), recalling the Little Fluffy Clouds monologue, while an old Saturday Night Live skit about the relaxing nature of electroshock therapy keeps the mood firmly in cheek. Following that, Alles Ist Schoen goes for the ‘dreamy time’ music road, cascading synths galore. Ah, now he gets it, Teenage Sykonee does.

I guess I should mention that the main track off Pomme Fritz, Meat ‘N Veg, has all the above features arranged into the closest thing to an actual song. Yeah, this ‘little album’ is ‘little’ more than variations on it – not really remixes, but Paterson and co. dicking around in the studio with all those elements (apparently the recent re-issue has even more sessions; yay?). Well, except for the final ditty, His Immortal Logness, a ridiculous piece of short music that would feature wonderfully in a parody of stuffy 1700s European chamber gatherings. I like this more than I should, and as a D-side, it’s totally harmless fluff. Frankly, Pomme Fritz comes off like a D-side, one that charted on sheer Orb prestige alone.

Tomita - The Planets

RCA Red Seal: 1976/1991

Ol' Isao proved he could create clever synthesizer interpretations of the classics with Firebird, outclassing even the pioneering work Wendy Carlos did with Hooked On Bach. There was a sense, however, he was selling his potential short in keeping his chosen works 'grounded'. Whereas most modern classicists were content in doing straight-forward covers, Tomita's style suggested room for experimentation and free-flowing expressionism - his works need not be intended for art houses or chambers, but capable of sending the listener into the wider cosmos above. Just borrow a few stylistic markers from those Berlin guys, and Tomita could craft music as futurist as anything conceived from sci-fi's golden years.

Okay, I’ve no idea whether it was Tomita’s intent in turning his focus primarily towards space music, but this album sure supports the theory. Gustav Holst’s The Planets is considered one of orchestral music’s defining suites, with various portions, passages, and pieces adapted into several genres since (progressive rock adores it). The concept was simple enough: each planet has its own musical theme derived from its astrological attribute, a fair idea since science was still sketchy on several of our solar system’s neighbours. Thus Mars: The Bringer Of War is fierce and aggressive, while Venus: The Bringer Of Peace is tranquil and lovely – which is practically opposite of what those planets are like in reality. Mercury: The Winged Messenger’s spritely, sunny bounce makes good sense for the innermost body though, and having Neptune: The Mystic quietly fade out to ghostly, lonesome choirs evokes the wondrous mysteries that lurked beyond the largely unknown blue ice giant. The Planets may have been astrological in inspiration, but Holst couldn’t resist adding a little astronomy in there too. Tomita, on the other hand, fully embraces it wherever he can. After a whole lot of music box tinkering and robot Moog squawking, The Planets literally lifts off on rockets.

Talking about these pieces in specific detail won’t do much good on my part, especially if you’re familiar with the original orchestral arrangements (if you aren’t, get on that, mang!). The attributes Tomita brings probably won’t surprise folks already weaned on his other works either, much less modern classical in general. What gives The Planets such standout quality though, is how ol’ Isao flits between grand space opera and pulpy sci-fi quirk throughout, keeping you guessing exactly where he’s taking things next. It’d be far simpler to rely on basic substitutes, but Tomita’s fearless in having singing Moogs, simulated radio chatter, and far-out flanged pads sharing the spotlight with symphonic synth strings, organs, and harps. It’s remarkable just how much millage Tomita got out of his hardware here, apparently all performed on his own. Holst’s estate sure weren’t impressed though, forcing The Planets’ initial vinyl run off shelves in short order – same ol’ difficulties for these modern classicists, eh?

This is a great album, essential listening for anyone with a hankering for raw, exploratory ‘70s synth works. I would say that with a ‘Saturn’ track, wouldn’t I?

Antendex - Photons

Force Intel: 2010

I kicked this November’s batch of reviews off with ZerO One, an ambient techno producer that isn’t all that dissimilar to The Higher Intelligence Agency. Now I’m at the end of November reviewing an album called Photons from Antendex, another collection of music that bears striking similarities to The HIA. And in the middle of this month I reviewed Boards Of Canada’s Geogaddi, which only has tangentially related stylistic markers within ambient techno’s scope to any of these acts. But a tangent is a prominent feature in geometry and trigonometric applications, which is more math you know – just know - BoC intended as another hidden clue to that album’s deeper meanings that the music alone couldn’t articulate. And that message…? That I’m never gonna’ let fan-based theoretical bollocks go, am I?

Seriously though, it’s a remarkable coincidence that this month of reviews is bookmarked by a pair of such albums. However, where ZerO One’s efforts were of a more playful approach, Antendex (or Tamás Olejnik to Hungarian credit companies) goes for the serious, experimental side of ambient ‘bleep’ dub techno. Though I immediately thought of HIA when listening to Photons, you could probably namedrop plenty other early IDM acts who shared similar aesthetics with Bobby Bird’s work (Autechre, Biosphere, etc.). This album also smacked some sense into my jaded assumptions of ambient techno’s non-status in the new millennium. I had no idea anyone would make deliberately old-school ‘bleep’ dub, yet on reflection it shouldn’t have surprised me, dub techno finding all sorts of in-roads with budding laptop producers. That Mr. Olejnik would craft an album strong enough to gain Force Intel’s notice and blessing is remarkable, but then perhaps the Mille Plateaux offshoot had as much of a hankering for the retro style Antendex offered as I did.

Yeah, I should get this out of the way: as a collection of ‘bleep’ ambient dub,Photons is incredibly vintage, almost to a fault. I don’t know whether Mr. Olejnik was directly inspired by Bird, but these sound an awful lot like HIA b-sides. If I’ve never convinced you of the wicked-neat sounds of HIA, I doubt I’ll have any luck with Antendex. If you’re game though, stick around to the end of this review for some convincing. Or pie. I promise there’ll be pie afterwards.

Photons is made up of thirteen primary tracks, plus a remix of the first song Quanta. Other track titles include names like Emission, Amino, Modulation, and Dronflex. This is all very geeky sounding, and the music is too. It’s also quite pretty in that minimalist way spacious bleep ambience can go, though a few experimental drone tracks are littered about too. Very little breaches the four minute mark either, giving these tracks an bit of pop writing sensibility. Just as well since the sonic ideas Antendex brings up in each track didn’t need much exploration anyway. It’s all rather samey throughout, but if it’s a sound you can dig, your ear-holes shall be tickled proper.

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.

The Orb - Orbus Terrarum

Island Records: 1995

The trippy, goofy, psychedelic edge The Orb cultivated helped them develop a distinctive sound unlike any of their growing legion of contemporaries. You just knew they were indulging in the narcotics for their inspiration though, and one couldn't help but wonder if it'd get the better of them after awhile. Orbus Terrarum gave us the answer, an album full of weird experimentation for seemingly no better reason than its own sake. Most were ready to give up on The Orb after this one, wondering if their creativity had worn itself out. Oddly enough, Orbus Terrarum has gained more love in the ensuing years, folks now praising the bold attempts at such leftfield production, even if the actual results were sometimes tedious as a listening experience. Goes to show what a string of truly mediocre releases can do for one's back catalogue.

It starts out innocently enough with Valley and Plateau, two tracks that’d previously appeared on Live 93. Right off you can hear the group (re: whoever you believe to have done most of the production while others sat in and smoked blunts) is pushing their ideas of dub as far as they can. So many layers of sounds and effects are found in Valley - jangly rhythms, grumbly basslines, dreamy pads, samples of nature – that it creates an almost endless sense of space, one you can easily get lost in with good headphones. Plateau, meanwhile, is an utterly blissful piece of ambience, with shimmering cascade of warm strings and synths – an added groovy reggae-dub rhythm midway helps maintain a sense of progression in the track, that we’re not pointlessly meandering about in a flights of psychedelic fancy.

With its charming opening of classical piano, Oxbow Lakes looks primed for another memorable piece of music. Letting it morph into endless layers of jangly dub effects is all well and good, but it doesn’t go anywhere, save an ethereal return to the main melody as the track winds down. Even less focused is Montagne d’Or, at first seemingly a new take on Spanish Castles In Space with (then) current production chops. Then it starts building up tempo, eventually erupting into cavernous beats. It sure sounds cool, but what was the point, other than the guys in the studio wanting to try it out?

That sense of ‘music in service of experimentation’ carries through White River Junction and Occidental, nearly twenty-five minutes worth of sounds, effects, samples, and incoherence. Aside from brief bits (a bobbly bass sound here, a quirky dialog snippet there), hardly anything sticks in my head. Despite playing far too coy with a children’s tale about mischievous slugs eating juicy green lettuces, final track Slug Dub at least knocks off all the studio wankery for a simpler, though overlong, ambient dub outing.

Orbus Terrarum’s a love/hate album at this point. You’re either down for The Orb’s experimental excess, or not. When on point, it’s wonderful music – when not, it’s a waste your time (oh hi, Occidental).

Carl Craig - Onsumotahasheeat

Shadow Records: 2001

While there's no doubting Carl Craig's status as a Very Important Person in the world techno, his has increased with age. Yeah, he was Very Important during the '90s, what with being second generation Detroit, Landcruising and some other stuff that was important enough to namedrop him in conversation. Yet as the new millennium took form and the number of yesteryear names to drop was gradually pruned, Mr. Craig continuously elevated above his peers. I honestly haven't a clue why this was so, but then I'm slightly biased to the late '90s, where his output was on a downswing as techno generally floundered about looking for new directions and relevancy. Guess all those hip kids getting into tech-house and minimal found some reason to prop him up to legendary status.

Am I blowing smoke with this theory? Perhaps a little, but take a look at this CD, Onsumotahasheeat - I’ll bet a Paperclip People white label that this is the first any of you have seen it (you people lurking my Discogs profile don’t count). You’d think his second official DJ mix would garner more attention, but then it is Shadow Records, a label not exactly high on the minds of the average techno head. On the other hand, few make mention of his way early contribution to the DJ-Kicks series either, and he never had a significant mix out again until 2005’s Fabric 25, when name-dropping techno’s old guard was incredibly fashionable again. From there, Carl Craig kept gaining Very Important Person status point, earning him mixes on all the significant labels and podcasts. Where was the love back in the day, mang?

Oh, wait, maybe the reason Onsumotahasheeat’s gone neglected is due to its content, essentially a Shadow Records showcase. Jimpster is here! Recloose is here! Goo’s here! Droid’s here! L.B.’s here. Um, Marasma’s here. Er... Shinju Gumi’s here? R. Craig? Sneakster? Ultralights? Where’d you dig up these guys, Carl? Yeah, the Shadow archives have some relative unknowns about, but Mr. Craig claims he was fascinated by their library such that he wanted his mix spotlighting the label’s musically bold ways. Fair enough, as the tunes are at least fascinating.

There’s Latin jazz-funk (Jimpster’s Wild Light, John Arnold’s Universal Mind, Ultralights’ Supernova), wicked Scarface turntable action by Goo in The O.G., and big beat business in Shinju Gumi’s Hide And Seek. Then there’s the weird stuff: Droid’s Spacey Poly Bell gives us taste of Detroit d’n’b (!), leftfield electro covers by L.B. (James Brown’s Superbad and Prince’s The Future, if you’re curious), drone-ambient trip-hop (!!) with Sneakster’s Twisted, and fuzzed-out jazz-rock-hop in Marasma’s I Have Got Garlic Hanging On My Front Door. Okay, that last one’s mostly weird for the title.

As you’ve undoubtedly guessed, Onsumotahasheeat’s all over the place in terms of genre. About the only thing holding it together is Craig’s esoteric ear for electronic music. Mixing’s mostly non-existent, but unnecessary for this CD. A fun little throw-on for those days in blunted haze.

Ametsub - The Nothings Of The North

Mille Plateaux: 2010

Mille Plateaux’s had many starts and stops since the label first emerged two decades ago, its latest (and seemingly last) perhaps the most disappointing. Glitch music was turning into a commercially viable force, and here was one of the genre’s Godfather labels returning in 2010. Nor was this just a small relaunch offloading and redistributing back-catalog, oh no. They were signing new artists and even setting up sub-labels, perhaps creating a new musical empire within the realms of minimalistic experimentation that would put Mille Plateaux’s former glory years to shame! Or not.

Sadly, the label ceased releasing material in but a year’s worth of operation, and Mille Plateaux’s website still hasn’t been updated since 2010. Maybe it couldn’t compete with all the free laptop ambient-glitch material clogging up the interwebs? Whatever the case, the initial hope the label could grow again was kicked off with this particular album, Ametsub’s The Nothings Of The North.

Ametsub himself is a minor enigma, even with three albums to his name (this one being his second). Japanese in origin, no name is provided on the broken-English bio at his homepage, though he’s toured enough to earn a few associative namedrops in it (Actress, Apparat, Plaid, Floating Points). If Nothings Of The North is anything to go by, it's small wonder Mille Plateaux would have tapped him for their 2010 relaunch, the music here very much in the 'jazz-click' and 'micro-hop' aesthetic you'd associate with impossibly stuffy conceptual experimentation.

Already backing out that door, are you? Can't blame you, the above descriptors appealing only to the most egg-headed musical sorts. Honestly, I felt the same way when I first heard this as a promo, my patience for glitch-click minimalist techno already stretched to its breaking point. Something kept me from deleting it after that initial listen though, a subtle warmth lurking underneath it all. Ametsub's approach reminds me a lot of early Akufen, where ear-wormy patterns emerge with a couple repeated plays. Also, there's none of the dry sterility that marks so much experimental glitch, in fact a strange bit of warmth permeating throughout. Chalk it up to Ametsub's ear for rhythm, things playing mostly on the downbeat that wouldn't be too out of place on Ninja Tune in an alternate universe where Amon Tobin performed at art museums.

The Nothings Of The North is an odd one, but then what would you have expected from a Mille Plateaux album? Not a 'morning after' LP, that's for sure, but this one sure does the trick I've found, 66 encapsulating this perfectly. It starts all sketchy with constrictive field-recordings, like being stuck in a savanna tree as a wildebeest stampede thunders all around you (ooh, such a headache...). All you want is to curl inside, retreating from the harsh elements outside. Yet, you brave the sunlight, and the song erupts in a rapturous, overbearing synth wash, nearly numbing your senses into submission. You come away feeling refreshed, vitalized, the previous paranoia miraculously cleansed away. Or something.

The Future Sound Of London - Environments 4

fsoldigital.com: 2012

It's surprising there's so little talk of Environments out there in interwebland. The Future Sound Of London was a big freakin' deal back in the '90s, why even a very important duo in the world of electronic music. I get that Dougans and Corbain are quite content in remaining independent with their output now, but the nice thing about being on a major like Virgin is the over-aggressive promotion such a label provides. Okay, such hype's annoying as Hell when the music's bunk; can you imagine FSOL putting out anything that wasn't at least average though? Thus here we are, three straight albums of class material, and barely a whisper about them within the usual rags. Sign of the times indeed.

As before, I must turn to the track list titles for an idea of what theme Environments 4 aims at creating, however tenuously. No Man's Land (dark ambient lifeforms), River Delta (psy dub by way of Ultimae!), Supercontinents (modern classicalism), Sediment (chilling on the shores of Goa), Vast Landscape (weirdness with closed frets plucks low on a guitar neck)... ah, geomorphology. Wait, that's what I've been studying for God knows how long now. I can't be mixing college and hobby here, it'll screw up my upcoming finals. Damn it, is this a nice rock, and is this a gneiss track?

No, wait, that’s not right. A chunk of the E4’s middle deals with fat ol’ Sol. Sunsets (slow jam prog rock), Photosynthesis (beach-view ambience), Stand A Little Less Between Me And The Sun (Robert Fripp’s in tha’ house), and maybe even Long Day (beatnik poetry in the park?) all could have links to that blazing white orb we see on the cover art. And if that’s the case, what of Architektur (noise rock jam in an Indian jungle!?), Murmurations (quick, let’s get this hippie music session on the rockin’ road?!), and Fibrillation (watch those proteins fibre-ize like mini-machinery!?!?) sounding all sciencey and egg-headed, having nothing else to do with the surrounding titles? Gads, is E4 every a confounding one.

Heh, no not really. What it does sound like is the ambient B-side to an album from FSOL’s psychedelic side-project, Amorphous Androgynous. Swell thing, if we were dealing with the ‘90s version of that alias, but most fans lost the plot with them following The Isness (which confounded fans further when Hypnotic released it under the FSOL banner in America). It wasn’t a bad album by any stretch (somehow earning a 6/5 from Muzik Magazine), but not the sort of music folks wanted from Dougans and Corbain at the time, if ever. Pft, as if they should cater to the wishes of a petulant fandom. The FSOL are followers of their oft-time weird muses, not pigeon-holed lackeys.

Environments 4 is yet another lovely collection of music, if you’ve a place for psychedelic jam-scapes along with your downtempo and chill. It’s understandable why those only familiar with their ‘90s output wouldn’t like it though. If only FSOL still had ace PR.

The Future Sound Of London - Environments 3

fsoldigital.com: 2010

So I skipped the first Environments. It wasn't because of the general shrug from fan-based opinions on it, oh no. Rather, it was its presentation, a mere two tracks averaging about twenty-five minutes, each plainly titled Environments. If that doesn't come off about as lazy as anything the Future Sound Of London's put out, I don't know what else could top it (no, From The Archives doesn't count). Lengthy ambient soundscapes are already a dubious proposition, and while I've no doubt the FSOL can capably craft such music, part of their appeal's long been the quirky titles they give their tracks. They're like a guiding suggestion in what imagery is created with their soundscapes. Compared to names like Spineless Jelly, Smoking Japanese Babe, and Antique Toy, Environments is vague and dull.

Dougans and Corbain must have realized this weakness in the first Environments, every piece of music since of digestible length and with an individual identity. While it's unfortunate they still aren't composing albums as distinct thematic wholes, this approach is far preferable to the formless method before. At least, that's how I like my FSOL, hence skipping on the first one.

Okay, I shouldn’t say Environments is totally without theme, as II, 3, and 4 do have self-contained premises, even if it’s only hinted through track titles (do you see why it’s important?). E3 features names like Sunken Ships, The Empty Land, The Oldest Lady, and End Of The World, so we’re in future-shock desolation territory again.

E3 may as well be Dead Cities: 100 Years After, a reasonable assumption considering The Empty Land sounds like a mash-up of My Kingdom and In A State Of Permanent Abyss (and boy, does that ever further beg the question whether all these Environments albums are repurposed old material or spankin’ new compositions). The cataclysm that caused the fall of civilization is an old memory, occasionally retold by aging elders but seldom reflected upon by the surviving generations. Those who remain are eking out a new life for themselves, building upon the structures of old, a somber struggle of a stubborn people. Summer’s Dream has quiet, clicking machinery minding its own business as ominous pads weave about; A Glitch In Cellular Memory is cheerful and jubilant, while Recollection following it invokes child innocence and whimsy. Beware those that will steal what’s yours through dark ambient techno in A Diversionary Tactic, or false complacency as tranquil pianos play in Hall Of Mirrors and gentle guitars strum in Sense Of Being. For, in this uncertain world, who know what electro horror lurks beneath Surface Waters, ready to undo all that was regained.

Yeah, as I’ve said, writing the finer details of FSOL’s music isn’t the easiest, especially when they allow themselves this much freeform expressionism. Environments 3 is another great body of work from the duo though, one that can take you to captivating surroundings, provided you have a foundation to start from.

The Future Sound Of London - Environments II

fsoldigital.com: 2008

Yes! A return to my normal backlog, however briefly. I'd been eyeing The Future Sound Of London's semi-return with some interest these past couple years, curious what the deal with all these releases were about. The From The Archives compilations seems self-explanatory, but my God they just keep coming out with them. Dougans and Cobain also released a few more Amorphous Androgynous albums, though as they're still exploring the roads of psychedelic music that was The Isness, I can't say an album titled The Peppermint Tree & The Seeds Of Superconsciousness looks promising. Then there's Environments, initially the mysterious album advertised in Lifeforms that never came to be, now up to its fourth volume. What's the deal, then?

Though details remain sketchy, Environments was hinted at being what ISDN was: a collection of live-broadcast material of generally free-form music making. You can imagine Virgin, already feeling leery about FSOL's new-found experimental tendencies, would balk at such an endeavour. So to the back-burner Environments went as Dougans and Corbain focused on Dead Cities instead. As the millennium turned, the FSOL were back in charge of their own distribution, and started making available all that originally archived material. Thus, Environments gets its long overdue release in 2007. The world of electronic music shrugged.

Fortunately, that album garnered enough interest to warrant follow-ups, where the narrative of FSOL’s output gets murkier. Far as anyone knew, there was only one Environments, so were these albums new material, or had it also sat fallow all these years? It wouldn’t surprise me if it was a mixture of both, but until we get concrete confirmation, we may as well sit back and enjoy what we do have.

While every Environments album is primarily about exploring sound-forms, Environments II has a loose winter theme running through it. Track titles like Ice Formed, North Arctic, Glacier, and Newfoundland are self-explanatory, while Small Town, Nearly Home, and A Corner may also work in you know your Canadiana (are we certain this isn’t a Boards Of Canada album?). Of course, Serengeti totally deep-sixes that theory, but that’s just one track, and it contains droning voice pads that could invoke glacial imagery just as easily.

As for the music itself... um, it’s FSOL? Describing their future sounds was difficult enough for albums with actual themes, and there’s little hope of proper detail here without bursting the self-imposed word count. Here’s a taster: electro crops up in Factories And Assembly; Glacier would go great with an opium den; Baco Manu comes off like Jan Hammer on acid; Colour-Blind cribs Vit Drowning’s beats; Journey To The Center and Viewed From Above features orchestral arrangements.

Stylistically, Environments II isn’t that far a leap forward from their ‘90s output, though hardly dated either, as the FSOL were already light-years ahead in musical craft back then. The fact they can still release music unlike anyone else in the experimental chill-out scene to this day is all the proof you need this album’s worth your attention.

Various - Macro Dub Infection, Volume 1

Virgin: 1995

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

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

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

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

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

µ-Ziq - Lunatic Harness

Virgin: 1997

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

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

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

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

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

Radiohead - Kid A

EMI Music Canada: 2000

The most important album to have, if you want to have a credible taste in music. That's right, Boomers, your 'most important albums' are no longer relevant! Dark Side Of The Moon? Pet Sounds? Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band?? Pft, as if they could compare to the true importance of Radiohead's most important album. Your old, fuddy-duddy classic be-bop is old, old timers. This one, this defines a generation. Not just any generation, but all generations. Bach couldn't compare to Radiohead. Nirvana couldn't compare to Radiohead. Hank Williams Sr, Jr, and III can't stand against the might of Radiohead. Maybe Miles Davis, Aphex Twin, and The Stanley Brothers can be held in the same breath as Radiohead, but those artists never earned the coveted Seal Of Pretentious Perfection from Pitchfork. Never, I says!

Okay, even the douchiest McHipster skinny-pants wouldn't come off that stupid, but man, the way so many contemporary indie rags went on about Kid A, you'd think that was the common line of thought. In some regards, I can't blame them for the over-reaction of adulation. Here it was, an album that our generation could claim as a modern work of art, one that could be held in the highest esteem along side all those Boomer greats that get carted out for regular Rolling Stone “best all-time” duty. And what was even better, Kid A was something we figured our parents wouldn't quite understand, what with all those electronic noises, effects, and tinkering that the guys at Warp Records had been doodling about with for the past decade. This was music that was looking to the future as much as utilizing the past, thus making it ours, ours, ours! What's that, mums and pops, you don't get the droning ambient bliss of Treefingers or the glitchy manipulation of Thom Yorke's voice on Everything In Its Right Place? Of course you don't.

Actually, I must say something that'll make me come off as the ultimate hipster around: I was into Kid A before it was cool. “How can that be possible,” you ask, “when the album was considered cool almost as soon as it the shelves?” Yeah, that was one of the perks about working a music shop, getting CDs before street date and such. Even ahead of throwing it on for a demo, I knew Radiohead's fourth would be special – no popular band makes album art and packaging that unique without something equally original committed to disc. I only had a passing respect for the band (OK Computer had some good tunes), but little of their output made me want to dig into their discography. And even after picking up Kid A, that feeling remains.

Therein lies this album's strength. You don't have to be a fan of Radiohead, indie rock, or whatever to enjoy it. All that's required is an appreciation for music and the limitless potential it holds. Just, y'know, don't be a smug, fedora-wearing, scarf-snuffling twat about it.

Gas - Gas 0095 (Original TC Review)

em:t/Microscopics: 1995/2008

(2013 Update:
I had to find out exactly what that Timestretch track properly sounded like, so using Mixcraft, I time-stretched the shit out of it! Turns out it's just some ambient drone, though I did notice the slower I got it, subtle tiny bleeps began revealing themselves. Oh, Mr. Jarvis, you and your fascination with all things infinitesimal.)


IN BRIEF: Soothing synths and experimental doodling.

Yep, this is an album by Gas, and it is a re-issue from the mid-90s, but before all you Wolfgang Voigt fans out there befuddle yourself over what’s going on here, allow me to clarify. The individual behind this particular Gas alias is Mat Jarvis, whom has continuously burbled in obscurity for years, known primarily only to the cultish fans of ambient techno label em:t. As such, fans of the well-known obscure Gas project might cynically think this lesser-known obscure Gas project is trying to gain some extra publicity by re-issuing this album at a time when interest in the well-known obscure Gas project has never been higher. Meanwhile, everyone else outside the ambient techno sphere of influence has read the previous sentence, wondered what this fool just said, and promptly clicked ‘Back’ on their web browser. Probably.

For those whose curiosity kept them on this page, Jarvis’ Gas (oh, the puns we could have…) falls into the more egg-headed variety of ambient techno. Don’t worry too much, though, as the sonic experimentalism associated with this style doesn’t grow too unbearable. In fact, Gas 0095 is quite quaint in execution.

The five main tracks - Experiments On Live Electricity, Microscopic, Earthshake, Mathematics And Electronics, and Discovery - all make use of simple drum programming, soothing backing pads, and bleepy supporting sounds, easily conjuring up the kinds of images one might associate with scientific endeavors. Meanwhile, the lead synths in these tunes tend to evoke a sense of wonder at the mysteries of the world around us – because they are subtle, though, it seems Jarvis is more intrigued by inner space rather than outer space. Well, actually, that may only be the case with the lovely Microscopic and delicate Disocvery, while Earthshake is more of a ‘club cut.’

As for the other two, their unwieldy lengthy names also reveal unwieldy lengthy tracks. Experiments… and Mathematics… both have some nice things working for them, but overall ramble too much. Mathematics… in particular really stumbles with its faux-funk leanings, never grabbing you in the same way the better cuts on this album do. It’s telling that the literal sonic *blip* that is Miniscule is more of a talking point than Mathematics…, in that it’s such a “what’s the point?” moment. I guess Jarvis figured it’d be ‘clever’ to make one of the shortest songs in existence, lasting a fraction of a second. Hnn, perhaps it’s quirky in showing how remarkably acute our audio perception can be to even hear something like that, but indeed, “what’s the point?”

There isn’t much to talk about with the rest of the sonic doodles comprising Gas 0095. Earthloop is about the closest thing coming to a fully-fledged song, with blissful ambient loops and soothing meditative sounds comprising the bulk of it. There’s another “why?” sonic experiment in Timestretch (a four-and-a-half minute long song compressed into one second), and other brief weird bits that sound like they could be the backing soundtrack to a science documentary. These are all skippable for the most part, although they last so short you’d probably barely notice them during a play-through.

Was this album worth re-issuing then? Of course, silly. It’s always good to have old collections of music made available again, even if it only interests a select few out there. The better question to ask is whether this particular re-issue is worth the attention of you, the casual consumer. Microscopic is definitely a keeper, while Earthshake, Earthloop, and even Experiments… should warrant your attention if you fancy ambient techno from the mid-90s. However, Gas 0095 is far from a necessary pick-up, as there’s plenty of other similar releases from that time which hold up better. Jarvis’ project does have moments of unique charm, but not enough to draw in those who prefer their ambient techno with much less experimentation.

Nine Inch Nails - Further Down The Spiral

Nothing Records: 1995

I swear I never intended to get such a crash-course in Nine Inch Nails’ peak years. I figured it’d come as a slow, gradual process, assimilating Reznor’s music at a comfortable pace of my own volition. Oh so fool hardy of me to think thus. It’s almost as though ol’ Trent intended to release so much material within such a narrow alphabetical range, such that should anyone attempt to listen through their music collections in that order, they’d be forced to go through Nine Inch Nails discography almost all at once. It even makes me want to pick up The Fragile now, just to complete the process. Oh what the hell, I may as well.

Until that shows up, however, here we get the remix EP to The Downward Spiral, Further Down The Spiral. I’m not sure why it’s considered an EP though, as its runtime easily makes this a proper full-length remix album. And like all Nine Inch Nails remix projects, an attempt at creative a cohesive listening experience is repeated, a small collection of artists and producers called upon for all eleven tracks.

Returning from the Fixed remix project are industry icons Coil and J.G. Thirlwell (most well known as Foetus). Coil’s trippy, psychedelic take on The Downward Spiral actually ends up sounding like something The Orb was producing in those days (which may have contributed to Dr. Patterson getting tapped for a remix on The Perfect Drug a couple years later), while three different version of Erased play more to Coil’s twisted sense of choking soundscapes (the short Polite version notwithstanding). Meanwhile, Mr. Thirlwell gets his hands on Mr. Self Destruct, and brings the thrashing original closer to a proper industrial work; good for what it is, but his remix for Wish still ranks as his best.

Reznor adds a little distortion to Hurt, and studio associates Brian Pollack and Sean Beaven turn Self Destruction more clubby. Let’s face it though, the real draw of Further Down The Spiral is the special guest producer on hand. That’s right, let’s give it up for Rick Rubin! He gets to work with Piggy, where-

Eh? What do you mean there’s another special guest providing a remix? No he isn’t. Oh, he was approached to do so - guess someone in Reznor’s camp (Trent himself?) noticed that oddball Aphex Twin chap shared a similar noisy aesthetic, and thought he’d make for a welcome addition to the Further project. Turns out, however, Richard D. James couldn’t be bothered to even listen to the original track to remix, and simply sent some unreleased material instead (legend purports he initially used the excuse of “sped up entire song to use as a snare” to get away with it).

So you ended up with a Nine Inch Nails remix album, plus two new Aphex Twin tunes (both of which skew closer to his drill’n’bass period). Guess Futher Down The Spiral becomes essential purchasing if you’re a completist of either act.