Darren McClure - On Opposites

Neotantra: 2019

I've mentioned before that Darren McClure is something of a label journeyman, almost never releasing more than one item on any given print. The only exception Lord Discogs lists is an EP and a collaborative album with José Soberanes on Éter Editions. So it continues with Neotantra, as obvious a label he'd find his way on as any these days. 'Cause when you're down with the Lee Norris fam', you get all the sweet label bumps. Seriously, someone really ought to create an interconnecting chart with Mr. Norris at the centre of it all, just to discover how far reaching his influence stretches. Like, it wouldn't be Brian Eno levels of convolution, but at least on par with a top tier hip-hop producer.

Anyhow, On Opposites is Mr. McClure's contribution to Neotantra, and I cannot deny, there's little I've heard like how this one plays out. Yeah, yeah, I say that often, but seriously, there's something remarkably unique about this album. Even when I think there's some other producer's influence sneaking in (Strange Slip In Time had my John Beltram triggers flaring), I struggle placing this album in any tidy compartment.

Part of it is there's such diversity going on here, I sometimes forget this is all the work of one man as things play out. Many artists show off musical variety within their LPs, but they typically have a specific aesthetic tying everything together. Darren practically pulls a one-eighty with each track here, a pleasant melodic number followed upon by an experimental dark drone piece. Opposites indeed.

If there's any unifying theme with On Opposites, it's sonic exploration in unknown territory. Not that the sounds Darren uses are terribly unique, but it does feel like I'm excavating some future-shock archaeological discovery. Otaru Box and Strange Slip In Time are bright and spritely, like benign reflections of what once was. Meanwhile, Reflecting and Charmonia feature a low, thrumming pulses, like ancient machinery breathing, as distant airy synth pads paint pictures of a lost civilization farther advanced than we could comprehend. To say nothing of the straight-up field recordings of Snow Lapse, where something is literally being excavated (Geir Jenssen would approve). Elsewhere, Darren shows off his more experimental side, but never indulges things for long, serving more as sonic respites. Yes, even the six-minute long Slow Juno, essentially nothing more than perpetually layering synth drone, and unlike anything else on this album.

Are all of Mr. McClure's albums like this? The couple I've taken in were collaborations (with Porya Hatami and Lee Norris as Memex), so I don't have the strongest frame of reference there. I did dabble some samples of his other releases, but clearly it didn't leave the same impression as On Opposites has. I'm almost afraid to check them out, unsure if they could top the weird, captivating journey this one took me on. While not every track is a winner, it certainly kept my interest in whatever different turn it might take me on.

Frame - The Journey

Glacial Movements Records: 2019

No way I could resist an album like this. The cover art alone invokes so many sonic possibilities, all of them frigid, remote, isolated, and barren – perfect summer music! And gosh, it looks like the whole label is like this, with familiar names like Rapoon, bvdub, Chihei Hatakeyama, Scanner, and Skare. Hello, my new obsession!

With no frame of reference, I went into this one cold (puns for days!). Doing a little background reading wouldn't have helped much anyway, this being Frame's lone entry within Lord Discogs' tomes. The players involved have been around many, many years though, with releases dating back to the early '90s. Andrea Benedetti was among the earliest adopters of Detroit techno out of Italy, heading up a few labels in support of such sounds at the time. He's also released sporadic material as Sprawl, but it seems DJing has been his primary passion. His Frame partner, Eugenio Vatta, has even less info on his Discogs page, but apparently has worked with Andrea since ye' olden days as well, skint though those releases are.

Apparently Frame is something of a long-running live P.A. project of improvised gigs performed at artsy shows. They never committed anything to CD, figuring the spontaneity of a live performance couldn't be replicated within a studio. That didn't stop them from recording many sessions though, building up a library of material for possible consideration. Thus it turned out with The Journey, an attempt at creating some sort of narrative from these disparate performances.

Ah, a journey as in the journey Andrea and Eugino have taken as Frame over the years? Sort of, but that'd make for a boring concept album. Ah, so a journey to the frozen clime's of our planet, as indicated on the cover art? No, not that either. Going by the tracklist, this is nothing less than a journey to the cosmic reaches of... just our solar system. Well hey, plenty to explore here.

Truthfully though, Frame opts for the ultra-minimalist scenic tour. Often played real quietly too. Things start out rather typically for a dark drone outing, Mercury imparting a foreboding tone, while Venus brings in creepy, echoing rattlers while static hisses in the background. Almost feels like you're in a steamy, sticky hot jungle, which kinda' makes sense for the Hell planet.

Things go extremely minimal after that though. Heck, most of Mars' eight-minute runtime is just a sustained tone (oddly relaxing mood for the War planet). From there, a lot of abstraction, a lot of experimentation, all played impossibly quiet, such that the sounds often fade into whatever background ambience surrounds you. Yes, even when played on headphones – the sound of your own heart beating may be louder than some of this stuff. It's not until Neptune that something harmonic emerges, with synth pads gradually building, while Pluto And Charon goes more industrial. And hey, The Arrival finally gives us some actual melody! Hoo boy, what a journey to get to it though.

Mick Chillage - Epinaz

Neotantra: 2019

Of course Mick Chillage would end up on Neotantra. Heck, if we include his work with Lee Norris as Autumn Of Communion, Mick's up to four LPs on this label. Keep in mind there's only been twenty-five proper albums released thus far, making him by far the most prolific artist there. What's scary is that's but a drop in the bucket compared to how many albums he's self-released this past year, many of them containing single, long-form tracks. I sense all these lockdowns gave Mr. Chillage ample time to explore as much experimental ambient music as he could handle, and then some.

Yes, we're in experimental territory with Epinaz, which mostly means fiddling about archaic equipment crafting abstract sounds and tones. There are some welcome melodic moments too, and even a few sequenced bleeps and blorps that could constitute rhythms, but if you don't have much of an ear for '70s weirdo synth music, you can probably pass this one. Heck, there are portions of this album where there's barely sound at all, the only noise seemingly the feedback hum generated by cables.

I honestly thought opener Zond was missing portions of its twenty-four minutes. It starts innocently enough with eerie cosmic synth tones harking to the experimental side of krautrock. It eventually mellows out, and you figure the composition will transition into a meditative piece. Then, almost dead silence, save some impossibly distant mechanical clanking and that feedback hum. I didn't even know this was going on when I played it on my regular speakers, Zond's ultra-minimalism blending in with the background ambience of my environment. It wasn't until I played this on headphones that I discovered what was going on.

Eventually a charming, sparkly arp lifts things out of abeyance, a simple rhythm joining the fray. Now, you think, this track is going places, but it all recedes again, returning us back to nothing but analogue fuzz. It's all a bit of a frustrating listen, especially with a four minute fade-out of near nothingness. Kind of hard to keep one invested in the rest of the album when nearly a third of it amounts to a big tease.

Carry on we do though, and Mick gets into more sonic oddities in the following set of tracks. At least there's more activity in them, and even some lush pad work in Prophets Dream and I've Seen Things. Whether you mind the atonal bloopy things going on around them will likely boil down to personal preference (I don't mind them ...much).

Short track Norge keeps things simple with synth pads, then Everything Ends takes us out with a blissy ten-minute outing that's more reminiscent of Mick's ambient techno works than anything inspired by the '70s. Almost worth the price of admission alone. Still, while there are some interesting things about the rest of Epinaz, I don't see many getting past that opener Zond to hear it. But in this age of streaming, who listens to full albums anyway? *cough*

Nacht Plank - Broad Tape Band

self-release: 2011

I feel like I've come full circle with this release, which is weird because I wasn't aware of travelling on any particular path. Maybe not so much a circle, but hexagon? A Fibonacci sequence spiral? Some sort of Lee Norris route that had me starting with a Nacht Plank album, and ending on a Nacht Plank album. Not that Alien and Broad Tape Band are the first or last of Lee's projects covered here. Of what I have checked out though, the former was the first of his solo outings, and I'm sure there will be other Norken, Metamatics, or Crowbar Stardust items down the line.

Somehow, I keep being drawn back to Nacht Plank, which is weird because I can't say it's among my favourite of Norris' projects, at least not enough for a full-on deep dive. Really, I only have this and Third Sacraments Council because they were among those Bandcamp giveaways he offered some years back. But hey, I liked that one, so maybe Broad Tape Band will bring something more to enjoy.

Eh? You remember me thinking Broad Tape Band as 'harsh'? Ah yes, I did mention that in the Alien review, after taking a small sampling of sounds. It wasn't hard coming to that conclusion skipping through tracks, eighteen in all. Only a few breach the four-minute mark, while several log in under three minutes. Plenty of space for weird sonic experiments with vintage gear, creating static bursts, sputtering sequencers and atonal drones. Not the most pleasant of noises to sit through, unless you're approaching things from a purely intellectual stance. Or are intimately familiar with the equipment used, and get your vibe on hearing the sounds coerced from them. For sure there are those out there who dig it, I'm just not one of them.

When Lee does let the music breathe a little, there is some nice stuff. I'll grant it's sporadic, and takes until track ten for such a thing to happen (at least for me), but A Plants Day In Stages at least feels like it's going somewhere, less about the abstract experimentation, and painting weird, avant garde minimalist portrait. Elsewhere, whatever 'songs' might have once existed in prior tracks are generally subsumed by glitchy noises or static noise. Only Paoiz hints at a song, but doesn't last long enough to stick in the brain.

But gosh, there's a real gentle melody to hang off on in Field Piano Form. A lovely little thing, piercing the analogue fuzz, occasionally drifting on dubby, metallic rhythms. It rather reminds me of Jam & Spoon's Ancient Dream, itself from their weirdo experimental album, Tripomatic Fairytales 2002, though not to such extremes as heard here. Speaking of 'remembering things', I swear some of the whirring noises in Sirron come from FSOL's Lifeforms, one of the interstitial bits. Or is it Henge I heard it? I dunno, all these whirring bits and transistor bloops kinda' run together after a while on this album.

The Micronauts - Bleep To Bleep

Science: 2000

This was one of those CDs that seemed sat in every store. For the life of me, I can't understand why. Or rather, I get 'how' it ended up in music retailers and pawn shops, just not why The Micronauts got such a significant promotional push in the first place. Certainly nothing on this here debut mini-album would suggest a huge cross-over event in the making, this music brash and noisy, like some kind of put-on by misters Christophe Monier and George Issakidis (who left the duo shortly after Bleep To Bleep's release).

Digging around their Discoggian data, they had a respectable run of items leading up to this, both as The Micronauts and in other ventures. I distinctly recall hearing their acid stomper single The Jazz in a Chemical Brothers mix CD. Christophe had a tidy run with Pascal R as Impulsion, getting in on that stompin' acid and hard house that was quite popular with French producers in the back half the '90s. It also seems that Lord Discogs really loves tying these guys with that scene, throwing about recommendations for Daft Punk and Cassius. Hm, it's coming together, the Micronauts story: promising single, associated with the big movers and shakers of the era... How could the mighty Virgin not sign these guys, though I'm not sure if the label had the utmost confidence in them. Nay, better to shuffle them off to a sub-label, like that Science print that was a dumping ground for Photek and Source Direct records.

Even partial Virgin promotion was enough to get onto a tonne of store shelves though. So there it sat, a quirky little item on the slightly cheaper end of CDs, being a mini-album and all. A few curious glances are thrown its way, wondering what that might be, what with no names or titles on the cover art. Some might recognize the name on the spine from singles like The Jag or Get Funky Get Down, but none of that is on here. A few, daring souls decide to give this a demo spin anyways, their reward an assault of hard house beats, garish acid, and a cacophony of electro noise. Good gracious, whatever is this racket?

Baby Wants To Bleep, in all its permutations on this CD, almost feels like a joke. Like, The Micronauts wanted to make the most obnoxious sounds they could within acid house's parameters, extending it into a sort of jam session in the process. It's rather fascinating in of itself, and could even be pointed at as a precursor to the Ed Banger aesthetic that would come to dominate much of French techno half a decade later. Trying to come into this blind, however, would almost certainly turn folks off. Not to mention one of the longest tracks, Bleeper_0+2, is just a noise experiment no one with any aspiration of commercial intent would dare put on an album. Time to hunker the project down then, let the rest of clubland catch up.

Atomine Elektrine - Nebulous (Expanded Edition)

Essence Music/Old Europa Cafe: 2007/2016

I came into contact with raison d'être because I saw a reissue of one of his albums with an aged picture of a boat on the cover. I dug a little deeper into his other works because I liked what I heard and wanted to hear more. Exploring through the Old Europa Cafe Bandcamp pointed me to an assortment of other items that caught my eye by an Atomine Elektrine. 'Cool,' thinks I, 'a chance to branch out into another untapped vein of dark ambient producers.' Turns out, nope, that's not the case at all, as this is a side project of Peter Andersson, whom I've already name-dropped in this paragraph as raison d'être. You'd think I'd pay more attention to these sorts of things, especially if I write about them in older reviews.

Best I can tell, Atomine Elektrine was Peter's outlet for music that skewed closer to the realms of techno. I don't know so much about his first album under the guise, Elemental Severance, the scant clips I've heard coming off like so many Enigma clones of the time. Still, kinda' interesting that it appeared on the fledgling Cold Meat Industry. He self-released a couple more items before the end of the century, then seemingly put the project into mothballs.

Nearly a decade later though, he dusted Atomine Elektrine off for a new album on Essence Music, the very record I'm talking about here! He's kept it active ever since, releasing a new record every few years, all the while coupling some of his older works with expanded editions filled with unreleased material. Man, I know some artists cultivate quite the dedicated followings, but are there really that many die-hard raison d'être fans who'd indulge in double-disc collections of side-projects? Yes, yes there is. I'm assuming they're also the sort who have every noise Merzbow's released.

Anyhow, Nebulous. Atomine Elektrine has often taken to the cosmic grande for inspiration, and this album's no exception. Track titles include such items like Transforming Space, The Eye Of The Nebula, Deep Sky Twilight, and, on this expanded edition, Plasma Core Of The Quasar. The music, such as it is, mostly amounts to experimental drone pieces with hazy melody drifting among the interstellar medium. Some of it, such as where the dronescapes are richly layered into something more dubby, is quite nice as it plays, though doesn't really stick much to the memory membranes after. It all rather reminds me of Biosphere at his more minimalist, though even colder in a space station laboratory sort of way. I want to like this more, but coupled with the second CD of live recordings, it all feels like too much to take in all at once.

Speaking of, CD2 of this reissue does have some nice little ambient numbers on offer, a surprise considering the dark ambient Mr. Andersson typically peddles in. If you like your bleepy, Forbidden Planet soundscapes, there's some cool stuff here. Bet the visuals were dope too.

Part-Sub-Merged - Four Forests

fsoldigital.com: 2007

Going direct to The Future Sound Of London's website to buy their music is good and all, but what's better are the few items from other artists along with the endless side-projects and alternate aliases. Daniel Pemberton, Neotropic, Ross Baker, and so on. What better way to discover someone new, especially if they come with a FSOL seal of approval! Who to choose, though, who to choose? As is so often the case, I went with my gut instinct, wherein my gut tells me to pick out an item with cover art that somehow resonates with me (often blue). Ah, this here wintry scene of barren trees partially obscured by a frost-encrusted glen fog. Reminds me of so many ambient dronescape releases I've dabbled in. 'Part-Sub-Merged'? Never heard of 'em before, so must be proper obscure. Sounds like a worthy candidate for a blind purchase, I reckon.

The project is obscure, yes, but not the producer behind it, for Part-Sub-Merged is none other than Brian Dougans. You may know him for his early seminal acid house work as Humanoid, or being one-half of psych-rockers Amorphous Androgynous (among other, incidental things). Not that I realized it when I bought it, the digital download offering little in the way of details. It's like, they expected the only folks who'd be interested in this would have already known that FSOL made a DVD movie, and this was the musical tie-in. I didn't though. I just saw an intriguing bit of cover-art in their digital shop, and went in cold-blind. Did make me curious of what this Four Forests film looked like.

Good luck finding that. The DVD was only available through the glitch.tv website, a rather archaic domain of custom FSOL gear and whatnot. A few selected vids can be found on YouTube though, which gives a decent idea of what you're in for. Drives out to the country, wanderings about the forests, a bunch of trippy effects and layered images, all doing that abstract art thing FSOL have been known for since their earliest days. It's interesting enough if the group's visual aesthetic isn't a turnoff, in a Boards Of Canada sort of way.

And speaking of retro music making, the score for this little film is pure '70s weirdness and experimentation, with a touch of the modern production quality thrown in. I'm sure you could squeeze contemporary genre tags into some of these pieces - Slight Movement as trip-hop, Cark as... dub, I guess? Melody isn't high on Brain's mind with this though, most of these tracks short pieces of musique concrete effects most definitely better suited for visual accompaniment. Occasionally something resembling a trippy tune emerges – the creepy bleep of Second Glance, the twee mini-Moog melody of First Breath, the outright psychedelic ambience of Held - but these aren't the norm.

Nothing about Four Forests is normal though. For sure check it out if you're insatiably curious, but this remains one of FSOL's most obscure items, deservedly so.

Various - Balance 027: Magda

Balance Records: 2015

The only reason I'm reviewing so many Balance mixes, this. Yeah, I've said I kept tabs on the series, but wasn't inspired to look back either. Magda though, I'm always on the look-out for more mixes from her, so when I heard she'd been tapped for the venerated prog and tech-house brand, you bet I double spit-taked. Ms. Chojnacka's aesthetic is so outside the traditional Balance wheel-house, it may as well be on a different planet. I suppose one could made a distant connection to Joris Voorn, in that they've both done Hawtin-esque ultra-mixes, but that's about it.

Maybe Balance felt the need for another change though, having used up just about all the prog veterans to this point. Perhaps Danny Tenaglia's heavy techno outing had the Balance staff feeling that pull (which would explain why this was followed by Stacey Pullen). Or supposedly they realized they'd never had a woman do a mix for them. With an utter dearth of prominent lady jocks within prog circles, however, they had to reach beyond the genre aisles to make amends.

So this doesn't come off like a typical Balance release, instead seemingly celebrating Magda's own history in the commercial mix domain. The cover art is like a scrapbook of her prior outings (open mouth for Fabric 49; creepy doll/mannequin from She's A Dancing Machine). As such, the music within adheres to no past trends within Balance canon, no established genres carried upon. This is a Magda set through and through, and if you only come to this series' style of prog and tech-house, you're gonna' have a bad time.

Yet I feel so hypocritical enjoying the weirdo minimal and odd-ball nu-jazz of CD1, because isn't this the sort of stuff that soured me on Agoria's set? A little, yeah, but Magda just does it better. Really, she does better what a lot of her peers do (for sure a lone bright spot during 'mnml's suffocating dominance), and its a crying shame she never got the due others received, but perhaps appearing on Balance would help endear her to a fresh audience. Or not, her quirky selections being a bit much for the prog faithful. Heck, some of the 'tunes' toward the end of CD1 were a bit much for me, and I'm usually more than willing to take the ride on whatever strange road Magda drives us on.

Anyway, CD1's traditionally the 'indulgent' set in these Balance releases, but does the clubbier CD2 deliver in any shape or form? If you like your stripped-down tech-house and acid boogie, most definitely! It's more straight-forward compared to Magda's older commercial mixes – no super-dense mash-ups of four minimal techno tracks at once, or something – but gets my shoulders shufflin' and my bottom wigglin' in my chair just the same. Once again, Ms. Chojnacka remains one of the few who delivers exactly what I like to hear in this style of music. To be fair though, it's been a very small sample size.

Ezdanitoff - We Bring Light

Silentes Minimal Editions: 2011

This was included in Databloem's 'mystery bundle', and did it ever cement my suspicion the offer was little more than a dumping ground of dead stock. No fault of the contents within, mind you, but cover art such as this hardly inspires impulse buys. Maybe if the photo was washed-out, adding aged grit and grime, you might convince a passer-by of it being some Boards Of Canada knock-off. As it stands though, your first impression is either an utterly twee electro-pop outing, or an incomprehensible experimental collection, using charming family photos as an ironic contrast to the anti-sounds you're about to experience.

If you're at all familiar with the players involved with this one-off project, you'd know it to be the latter case. One half is Wouter Jaspers, who hasn't done much beyond collaborations here and there, his work with Steffan de Turck as Preliminary Saturation probably the most fruitful of his pairings. The other half of Ezdanitoff, however, is Frans de Waard, who's been making experimental music as Kapotte Muziek since, gosh, the '80s? A very long time, to say the least, with around a dozen more aliases and group projects to his name. Not to mention running a handful of labels such as Bake Records, Korm Plastics, and ...Plinkity Plonk Records? Haha, and that was established in the late '90s too? Not that I'm saying he could have predicted such a term becoming synonymous with the worst of minimal-tech, but leave it to an experimental outfit coining it well before the curve.

We Bring Light first emerged on Waard's My Own Little Label print as a mini-album, but was expanded to a full-length LP with three additional tracks a year later. Some of them are welcome additions, others... well, it is an experimental album, featuring a pair of chaps quite enamoured with field recordings and transistor tweets.

Opener Gentle Men starts innocuously enough, with gentle bleepy noises, rushed footsteps, and children playing, but man, do those harsh 'melodies' ever grate at the end. The titular follow-up features what sounds like someone sucking and blowing through a straw into a glass or bowl of... I want to say water, but really, it could be any sort of liquid. Maybe I don't want to know.

I was almost ready to write this album off when third track First Circle offers an actual, true-blue warbly melody that almost brings to mind the 'hauntology' vibes you might have expected from the cover art. The rest of the album kinda' flits between abstract sound experiments and twitchy-analogue melodies, which at least maintains the weirdo atmosphere of the whole thing. Then, in the final five seconds, you hear the beeping of an alarm clock, shaking you out of whatever bizarre, lucid dreamstate you've endured for the past little while, leaving you wondering if you even experienced it at all. Can't deny it's an effective way of wrapping We Bring Light up, almost making it worth your while to listen to the album in full. Almost.

Waki - Hurry Up And Relax

Databloem: 2011

Oh, is that an order? A command? A decree? I... don't think I can take that kind of pressure. Like, have you ever had one of those nights where you have to wake up at a specific time to make important appointments, and you can't help but feel stressed out over the need to just relax and get to sleep? Having an album title literally demand that of you is that feeling, only ten times more so! What happens if I don't hurry up and relax as Waki instructs me to? Will I not get the full context of this record without my brain turning its attention span down several notches within the first few minutes? Or will something more sinister, more insidious happen, like a ticking time-bomb planted within my psyche that will implode if I don't chill the f' down soon enough? Should I consider the caffeine content within my bloodstream before throwing this album on, whether it will significantly impede upon my ability to relax within the ascribed amount of time Waki has allotted within, whatever that time-frame may be? Just so much pressure from a single title. Just... so much...

Even more disconcerting is the fact that Hurry Up And Relax is such a schizophrenic album, I couldn't chill out to it if I tried. You'd think this being out on Databloem, it'd contain some nice ambient passages, or pleasant downtempo vibes. And it does, but th'ar be techno here too. And Kraftwerkian electro-pop. And ...drum 'n' bass? No, wait, Drum & Space is atmospheric jungle – totally different! Still doesn't make a lick of sense on Databloem though.

Still, Wakisaka Akifumi has been a rather eclectic musician for much of his career, so genre dalliances isn't that much out of the norm. Mostly fussing about in Japanese obscurity while self-releasing his stuff throughout the '90s, he caught a small break getting picked up by trendy Cologne techno label Traum Schallplatten (Music For Lazy People), then shortly after got a release on the fledgling Databloem (Music For Waki People). This is the follow-up to that, released some seven years later. Guess he figured the 4CD retrospective Special he released in between would sate all the Waki-fans for a while.

When I say Hurry Up And Relax is schizo', I ain't messing. This album has the sort of lengthy, minimalist pieces of dense timbre you'd expect out of harmonic Japanese ambient, but will follow them up with something out of a totally different release. Stargate sounds like it should be in a Swayzak DJ set, not surrounded by two atonal drone compositions. How does Ocean's retro Berlin-School noodling mesh with the aforementioned Drum & Space? Going from the languid ambience of Family to the oddball electro-pop of Dr. Loveburger? Sure, I think these are all interesting tracks on their own, but come off nonsensical when mashed all together as they are here. Context: an important factor that I'm either completely missing, or Hurry Up And Relax lacks regardless.

Spielerei & Mantacoup - Cold War

Silentes: 2007

Amplexus was dead, but that didn't mean someone could gather the ashes and relaunch another Italian ambient label in its stead. There's always room for more Italian ambient labels, especially ones you've barely heard of. I'm not sure who used the Phoenix Materia on Amplexus, giving rise to Silentes, but in short order Michael Mantra, Rod Modell, and Seele found comfortable homes there. It's a label that's quietly kept a small number of annual releases these past fifteen years, doing little to attract attention to itself but always drawing in a few well-regarded countrymen for an album or three.

The duo of Spielerei & Mantacoup falls into that category (though they're Dutch rather than Italian). They haven't released much, mind you, this Cold War and earlier Wichman And Other Pieces their lone collaborative works, and practically nothing since (so sayeth Lord Discogs). Each have put out solo works on dataObscura, while Spielerei has an additional item out on Databloem. And right he should, since Spielerei's real name is Dennis Knopper, owner of Databloem. Oh yeah, have I mentioned that dataObscura was an offspring of Databloem too? I don't think I have. Good to have that tidbit of info logged somewhere in the pounds of words contained on this blog. Point being, considering he has such a highly regarded label to his name, it's surprising he and Mr. Vermeent (Mantacoup) went with a different label for a second album together. Was it a request from Silentes? A favour owed to Michael Mantra? Figuring a 'cold war' theme fit better with a label that resides closer to the former iron curtain?

Now that I've got all that rambling out of the way, here comes the part where I must confess Cold War hasn't made much of an impression on me. For sure I'm hearing a lot of things I like, but it feels like I'm spending too much time wanting to like it more than just the basic appreciation I have for ambient techno glitch. There's a concept here, lurking, urging to get out and expose itself, but can't quite break through. Maybe I've been too spoiled by dark ambient exploring similar themes – that scene always knows how to construct a narrative out of their albums. I struggle in hearing where Spielerei and Mantacoup's muses are going here though.

Where It All Ends opens Cold War with a suitably melancholy mood, while the frantic, glitchy percussion of follow-up Cuba Crisis hints at the technological monstrosity that the battle of super-powers created. Pigs Bay has urgent burbling electronics, Meanwhile In Moscow goes minimalist and sonically paranoid, but the album's momentum kinda' dies after that, with far too much dithering experimentation interspersed with soundtracky ambient pads. As I said, all stuff I like hearing in general, just lacking the strong songcraft structure I've come to expect of such music. Oh well, final track After The Shockwave is a nice lead-out of micro-hop and synth-glitch – nicely sells the reckless futility of cold wars.

Autechre - Incunabula

Warp Records: 1993

(a Patreon Request)

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

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

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

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

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

Various - Ambient Rituals - Exercise One: Music For Soul Braiding

Hypnotic: 1995

I believe this was Hypnotic's first ambient compilation, though I use the genre lightly regarding the music on here. Dark ambient, yeah, plus weird dronescapes too, though nothing so occult as you might think from “Rituals” in the title. Then again, I had no clue of what to expect from a Hypnotic ambient release. All I'd ever heard from them was German trance, and while I knew some of those acts had downtempo material under their belt (ie: Komakino as Ynos), I'd never seen it appear on Hypnotic CDs before.

Well, none of that mattered, because Hypnotic didn't bother reaching into their Music Research trough for this compilation. Instead, they tapped an obscure Toronto print called DOVentertainment Inc., which briefly housed such famed industrial names like Zoviet France (and by extension, Rapoon), Digital Poodle, Dead Voices On Air, and La Floa Maldita. Okay, 'housed' is stretching it a bit; handled Canadian distribution, more like. Somehow, Cleopatra got the distribution rights to their material, and since they'd established Hypnotic as their one-stop outlet/dumping ground of all things 'raverish', handed it off there as an ambient collection, never mind the music here most definitely unplayable in traditional chill rooms. Technical stuff sometimes makes my head hurt, or maybe it's this inner-ear infection I'm dealing with.

Track one comes care of Kinder Atom, a quartet of producers that includes Heiki Sillaste. Their track of Scanus is a weird, spacey minimalist techno-dub, sounding rather empty yet soothing as subtle blips and beeps sing and breathe along a steady rhythm pulsing along. Ambient techno for sure, but with a striking ominous tone befit of an industrial outlet. Mr. Sillaste returns in track number two, Autorhythm Two from A.S.A., the second time I've come across this alias, meaning I now own half of this ridiculously obscure Canadian project. And what a strange track it is too, layers of bloopy sounds creating a percolating dripping sound as a lone beep echoes every so often. Interesting, if you dig your experimental techno. Heiki appears a third time later, under his most famed handle of Digital Poodle, though Weapon is but a transitional track, showing off angry robot noises before playing a forlorn ode to a post-war industrial wasteland. Surprisingly captivating, for the short time it plays. Rapoon's here too, with a super-long ultra-repetitive track that's also very meditative, in that old-school Rapoony sort of way.

Really, the two big takeaways I got from Ambient Rituals are a pair of tracks that couldn't be further apart if they tried. The first is Hemisphere from Synaesthesia, whom you may know as good ol' Leeb and Fulber merging their EBM and world beat senses into a big, bruising downtempo jam. The other is Vuls from Dead Voices On Air, a desolate composition of distant sounds and drones. Imagine being bound inside an asylum, the hum of ventilation ducts and a security camera your lone companions, words from your overseers intermittently oozing through the cold concrete walls. Delectable paranoia for the mindspace.

Sleep Research Facility - Stealth

Cold Spring: 2012

Now here's an alias up my alley! I like good sleep, but sometimes I feel I'm not getting the best sleep all the time. What the most efficient hours are, whether going down for huge blocks of time or interspersing it in shorter, nappier chunks is better. Should I keep milking those REM dreams or cut them off once they get too surreal. What I should take before lying down. What I shouldn't take before lying down! Sleep is one of the most natural things every complex organism does on this planet, yet it still remains one of the oddest things we don't fully understand. When did it become practical for a living being to simply shut down its higher functions for a period of time? Was consumable energy really in such scarcity in the primordial Earth that they had no other recourse than to hibernate for a while, preferably when the sunlight wasn't out and about? So strange, and we cannot fight it, no matter how many stimulants we may pump our bodies with. That there are research facilities dedicated to discovering these secrets is a-ok in my books.

All this has precious little to do with the album I'm reviewing today. Far as I can tell, Sleep Research Facility is simply a cool sounding handle Kevin Doherty adopted for making his dark dronescapes. His first album was called Nostromo, which yeah, featured some hibernating space-truckers (and gestating body horrors) but nothing involving researching their sleeping habits. He also has an album called Deep_Friez, something about the encroaching slumber of hypothermia, which I'm sure makes for fascinating study, but kinda' difficult to report your findings once you've turned into an Antarctic Popsicle.

Finally, we have his (thus far) final album, Stealth, which has nothing to do with sleep at all. Or maybe a little, those sleak, black killers of the sky moving as quietly as my computer in hibernation mode. I'm sure the B2 bomber has its own 'sleep mode' during its runs too, making sure its as invisible as possible from any observer. Remarkable feat of engineering, that plane. I'm not surprised folks find some inspiration in its aesthetic and design, even to create music based on it. This album though, has to be a first. Or at least a very unique interpretation.

For you see, Mr. Doherty posited the question: what would it be like as a stealth bomber? No, seriously, that's the vibe I get off this album! Unsurprisingly, this is a very minimalist drone album, almost entirely composed of electronic tweeting, chirping, whirring, and other assorted field recordings, all the while an ever present engine hum envelops you - it's like you're inside the machine, that you are part of the machine. Every so often the monotony is broken up by radio chatter, orders being relayed, information being sorted. I imagine if a B2 bomber had thoughts, Stealth is what its sensory A.I. perceives as reality. Or you're a hapless maintenance guy stuck in the landing gear.

Pan Sonic - A

Mute: 1999

(a Patreon Request)

Who knew Scandinavians to be ahead of the techno curve? While Detroit was getting minimal and Germany was getting dubby, a little trio out of Finland were exploring the extreme end of experimental. Consisting of Mika Vainio, Ilpo Väisänen, and Sami Salo, their productions bridged the decades-old gap between techno's futurist outlook and musique conrete's dated art-noise. Okay, that's unfair, plenty of 'interesting' electronic sonic doodles and Pollock paintings by way of vacuum tubes and radio transistors having emerged from this scene. Still, you gotta' be all in with this, or it'll just come off as the random sounds heat radiators or telephone boxes create on a fussy night. Of course, this all became super-trendy once Very Important techno DJs began raiding labels Mille Plateaux and Raster-Noton for a little variety in the sets, but Panasonic was among the first to do it with some level of recognition.

Whoops, sorry, I mean Pan Sonic. Obviously their original handle wasn't gonna' fly with the increased international exposure. Along with losing the 'a' though, they also lost Sami Salo, who had a promising NHL career ahead of him, sporting one of the heaviest slap-shots the league had ever seen. Perhaps not a Hall Of Famer, but still, a top four d-man on whatever team he played for. Just a shame his career was derailed by frequent injuries, such that- Eh? It's a different Sami Salo? Wow, the odds! I mean, he joined the NHL right about the same time as the Panasonic Sami Salo left. That's too much of a coincidence.

Mika and Ilpo may have lost an 'a' (and a Salo), but they still got some use out of it, cheekily sliding the letter onto the spine of the CD case and using it as the title of their third album. As Pan(a)Sonic were definitely in the mix of the new Trendy Techno discourse, there was probably a little pressure in crafting an album that lived up to whatever hype was generated in their favour. Figures they'd almost completely abandon techno for the sake of sonic experiments, then.

I suppose A firmly sits in the IDM camps, though the clinical sterility of the genre isn't so prevalent. Tracks like Maa, Askel, and A-Kemia, for instance, feature nice reverb and echo among its low throbs, clicky percussion and drone tones. Lomittain has a cool, low-ridin' groove going for it. Telakoe is almost an 'ardcore track, though sounds more jokey than po-faced. And Voima could have fit snuggly as a b-side remix on some industrial rock single.

That's only five tracks out of seventeen though, and while a number of the rest are ninety second doodles, there's a wi-i-i-ide gap between 'real' tunes and musique concrete dithering on this album. I get that's the point, Pan Sonic crafting a huge pit of near-nothingness between the noisier tracks on A - makes Talakoe and Voima stand out more. If you've never dug the experimental side electronic music's non-musical potential though, A won't convert you either.

Various - Hyperdub 10.3

Hyperdub: 2014

Wait, Hyperdub did ambient music too? Well, yeah, guy, of course they did. Doesn't everyone? Mind, what you consider ambient is probably a rather narrow niche of sonic padding and lengthy doodling, but that doesn't mean other scenes can't have their kick at the can with their own beatless interpretations of abstract art music, especially ones where 'dub' production is seen as the norm. While many musicians have taken the original Eno concept down radically divergent paths, that doesn't mean folks in the UK garage scene haven't felt the influence of spacious sounds filling sonic gaps between heavy bangers and the ephemeral void leading you to the Land Of Nod. Even 'gaihr-idge' heads need their comedown music, mate.

Still, it's not like Hyperdub has any dedicated musicians making just ambient music, or even much ambient adjacent music on the regular. Rather, they'll craft little interludes and quiet sound experiments as part of a larger album narrative (or a B2 on a single). As such, most of the twenty-three 'ambient' tracks on offer with Hyperdub 10.3 hover around the two-to-three minute mark, some not even reaching ninety seconds in length. Which urges the question, exactly what the point of this particular compilation is? Like, I get you wanted an excuse to show off more Burial, and certainly his two pieces of At McDonald's and Night Bus were key elements of what made Untold the seminal work of post-clubbing reflective misery that it was. However, sixty-four seconds of chopped pad tones from Dean Blunt and Inga Copeland comes off as redundant filler on a CD that's already technically filled with the filler of other LPs.

Most of these pieces are of such nature, taking the Hyperdub notions of urban digital editing to the realm of wallpaper music. It does provide a unique take on ambient, though it isn't that far removed from the glitchy realm of IDM experiments. It's interesting that two such disparate scenes could arrive at similar sonic points though – gotta' love all that easily accessible production software! Heck, some of this stuff could fit in with the noise camps, like DVA's Reach The Devil, and Jeremy Greenspan & Borys' Gage, which ends the whole CD off with an awful aural assault before abruptly ending. Kewl.

Personally though, I prefer it when things go for the urban-soul Burial mould, as in Cooly G's Mind and Trying, or Lee Gamble's DSM. But let's not leave out the retro-ghetto stylings of Darkstar's Ostkreuz, or the near synthwavey pieces from Ikonika's Time/Speed and Completion V.3. Wait, synthwave, in a Hyperdub collection? What timeline is this?

Then there's more traditional stuff, like The Bug's five-minute long Siren, and the super-traditional stuff, as in Fhloston Paradigm's Liloo's Seduction. Seriously, this production from the King Britt alias brings to mind '70s Berlin-School, and lasts ten minutes in length. On a CD where only three other tracks break the four-minute mark, Liloo's Seduction might as well be a double-LP composition.

John Beltran - Everything At Once

Delsin: 2016

John Beltran should be a more important person in the world of techno. For sure he's highly regarded and respected, a two-decade veteran of the Detroit scene that's danced with the Belgian dudes just as often. He even scored a licensing hit in Collage Of Dreams - not many Detroit producers can claim that. And whenever a new album from Mr. Beltran drops, it always earns plenty of props, kudos, and love from the techno community. For whatever reason though, he's never quite broken through the ceiling that separates the Darn Good producers from the Legendary Name-Droppers. I can only assume his frequent flirtations with the ambient techno camps isolates him from the True-Pure Detroit leagues – Motor City don't take kindly to those who pall about with them softy Belgian boys, I reckon. Pft, as if that ever stopped Juan Atkins' status after releasing material on R & S Records.

Early seminal works aside, two decades of music is daunting to dive into for the Beltran newbie, few albums sounding quite like what came before. How nice of him, then, that for his tenth outing, John went with the ol' 'career retrospective' take, Everything At Once intended as a reflection of all that he's done. Can't think of a better excuse for a 'jumping-on point' than that!

And absolutely does Beltran deliver a smorgasbord of his various musical inclinations. There's ambient! There's techno! There's ambient with techno! There's twee acoustic glitch (She Dwells In Beauty)! There's dreamy indie loop-jazz (Dream Lover!)! (!!) There's Kraftwerk homage (Tanzmuzik)! There's... um, drone-tone...? Whatever Gentle Boxes is.

So there's eclecticism on Everything At Once, and at seventeen tracks, can get a tad overlong to sit through. While I'll always champion musical diversity, there needs to be some uniting theme tying it all together for each piece to properly settle into my brain-matter. Otherwise, bloopy jazz-shuffle tracks like White Rainbows get lost among the fuzzy ambient drone of Nice Sun and mellow Aphex nods like A New Room.

It also doesn't help matters when many of the lengthier tracks are front-loaded in this album, second-cut Faux giving us over seven minutes of soft clippity-clop breaks with acoustic strums and warped, harmonizing pads. That's followed upon by the titular cut doing a jazzy groove with haunting soul singing (paging Dr. Burial, if you may), while Sine M gets back to that vintage, chill Detroit techno, and Lift works the electro-jazz 'bells-n-bleep' businesses. Bookend this opening act with two short ambient pieces, and you'd be forgiven for thinking Everything At Once nicely wraps up just a shade shorter than many breezy albums do these days.

Not that there's isn't nice music in the remaining two-thirds, but they don't imprint quite the same, tracks seemingly more about Beltran indulging himself. Which is fine, ol' John more than capable of crafting engaging pieces even at his most left-of-field tendencies. It just leaves the back-end of Everything At Once a tad wanting, 'tis all.

Plunderphonic - Plunderphonic

Mystery Tape Laboratory: 1989

(A Patreon Request)

It's not every decade that a conceptual album title so perfectly encapsulates a new genre of music that it's forever attributed to it ...but enough about Brian Eno's Ambient 1: Music For Airports. We're here to read my typed words regarding Plunderphonic, the seminal album from John Oswald that took the concept of sampling into strange new realms.

These aren't remixes or pilfered breaks or the stitching of uncleared sources into something entirely new, oh no. Mr. Oswald's aim was re-contextualize existing and familiar music such that you could still easily recognize the source, but be thrown just askew enough that it sounds warped and twisted from the author's original intent. As you can imagine, this was highly dodgy where copyright was concerned, but John never intended to make a single dime out of the project, giving copies away freely to radio stations, libraries, and passing gents. Even that wasn't good enough for the Canadian Recording Industry Association though, forcing him to destroy any copies he had on his person or face being sued into oblivion. Thus, original CD copies of this album now fetch stupid prices on the collector's market, which kinda' defeats Mr. Oswald's intent, doesn't it.

Another key gimmick/challenge/stylistic-choice John placed upon himself in crafting these tracks was to only use material recorded by a given artist in each piece. For instance, opener Beatles only uses The Big Chord that ended their song A Day In The Life (plus some fanfare chords). Dab tape-splices and edits Michael Jackson's Bad (in case the cheeky cover-art didn't give it away). Don't pilfers Elvis Presley's Don't Be Cruel. Net cribs snippets off of Metallica's And Justice For All (and sounds like a really complex math-metal tune in the process – I wonder if anyone's tried performing this live?). Spring plays about with Stravinsky's Rite Of Spring (for a composition that induced a riot when it premiered, it sure does receive love from unconventional sources). Brown gets ultra-meta in raiding Public Enemy's raiding of James Brown. As should be clear, no genre or scene was safe from Oswald's interest, everything from any era fair game for plunder.

Which is all interesting to hear, especially for trainspotters and studio rats. Does it actually sound good though, or does Oswald's incessant cutting, splicing, and layering render tunes intimately familiar into weird nonsense? Eh, depends on what you want out of this. Why settle for a herky-jerky mess in Birth when you can hear The Beatles original Birthday instead – oh, isn't it cool how manipulated it sounds though? I don't know anything about the jazz originals Mirror gets its stuff from, but to my ears, it don't come off much different than the actual nonsensical improv free-jazz gets up to on the regular. Still, d'at ambient drone of Rainbow!

There's fun bits and pieces in Plunderphonic, but ultimately comes off as John Oswald intended : an exercise in abstract studio artistry, with familiar music as the painter's palette. Goodness, how pretentious.

Biosphere - Compilation 1991-2004

Biophon Records: 2012/2017

Now isn't this just a right dandy little item Geir Jenssen's given us. As Biosphere, he released few actual albums throughout his first fifteen years of music making, but each one was a bonafide classic of ambient and frigid techno, making fans squirm and itch for more material. There were collaborations with Pete Namlook (Fires Of Ork) and Higher Intelligence Agency, but if you fancied yourself a true Biosphere completist, you'd have to do some serious sleuthing and digging, many tracks exclusive to compilations littered among his discography. Some of these weren't too hard find – even I could find copies of Trance Europe Express 3 on my local store shelves – but chances are you'd have to come from the hinterlands of Norway to snag yourself a copy of Nova Norvegia – (Get) Into The Arctic Groove. To say nothing of the outright obscurity of a Denmark museum collection in Krydsfelt – Norpol. I imagine even the peer-to-peer juggernauts of old had trouble tracking that one down.

Well fuss no more, Biosphere Completists, for Geir has gathered all his wayward offspring between the years 1991 and 2004 into a tidy 2CD compilation, titled, um, Compilation 1991-2004 - doesn't beat around the lichen moss, does it? Of course, if you really want to fancy yourself a true-proper Biosphere Completist, you'll still hunt down all those CDs these tracks were sprung from. For sensible people though, this will suffice.

Although, having listened through this now, I wonder if Compilation: My First Fifteen Years has any appeal beyond only the most die-hard Biosphere disciples. There's no denying Mr. Jenssen's frigid oeuvre can leave some folks cold (hah!). Yet whether you prefer his bleep techno beginnings, desolate field recordings, or looping drone, few come away from his work without at least thinking, “Hm, that's interesting.” And this double-discer touches base on all these aspects, but if you were coming in here looking for brilliant exclusives that never made an album cut, you've come to the wrong place indeed.

There isn't much from his techno days, opener Hypnophone the lone cut with any sort of beat among these fifteen tracks. The Third Planet and The Seal & The Hydrophone (Geir has a fascination for hydrophones) do the bleep ambient thing that marked his second album. By four tracks in though, we're already in the year 1997, when the minimalist abstraction really started taking hold of the Biosphere muse. Knives In Hens and Superfluid features some of the most experimental samples and drones Geir's ever produced, tediously so. At least the gentle ambience of Bird Watching and Sun-Baked end CD1 on a pleasant note.

CD2 is generally more consistent, as Mr. Jenssen's figured out how to craft his abstraction sampling into compositions with direction and focus, despite sometimes taking forever getting there (such a lonely road in Vi Kan Tenka Digitalt, Vi Kan Tala Digitalt). If you can't mess with ultra-minimalism though, well, you probably haven't bothered with post-Millennium Biosphere anyway.

Plank & Ishq - Zeal Monachorum

...txt: 2017

Not content to pair up with Ishq with one alias, Lee Norris dragged his Nacht Plank pseudonym in for a little collaborative work too. That may seem either redundant or overkill, but the Ishqamatics stuff, that had a very specific sound, a 'bound' sound, if you will. Misters Norris and Hillier though, they have other musical explorations in mind, stuff that isn't so tied to that project's ambient techno leanings. They have all this vintage analogue gear at their disposal, see, equipment they can jam away for hours on end in freeform music making as the OG krautrockers like Tangerine Dream and Cluster did. And Lee, he already had a project name for such craftsmanship, that being Nacht Plank. Ishq though, he's still just same ol' Ishq.

Thus a number of albums resulted in their sessions. First were three volumes titled Crows An Wra, featuring tracks averaging between ten and twenty minutes in length, one even breaking the half-hour mark. I haven't listened to any of them, because even that seems a bit much sonic noodling and musical doodling than I'm usually willing to take in from these two. But hey, if you're a huge fan of either Nacht Plank or Ishq, have at 'em.

Me, I'll take a sampling for now, in this follow-up album of Zeal Monachorum. It features four tracks, the opener lasting over twenty-four minutes long, the rest hovering around the sixteen minute mark. It honestly doesn't come across that way though, more like a disconnected assemblage of experimental sounds, bleepy passages, oscillating synths, and all manner of eggheaded ideas coming and going. If they'd broken everything up into individual tracks, however, you'd be looking at around a dozen pieces of conceptual art-music, some of which you might skip if given the option. Plank & Ishq ain't having any of your picky-nicky notions of music consumption though. You're gonna' take all their meandering audible activities, from the broken snippets of dialog, to the chirping electronics, to the soothing pad drone, to the languid bell tones, to the wobbly Moog – and that's all just in Church Of The Cross Modulation! Okay, not the dialog bits, those are in other tracks.

I suppose there are loose themes tying each track together. Zeal Monachorum Moonships mostly has sci-fi modulating sounds, every so often broken up by dubby, flowy synth-pad passages – it's like Plank and Ishq are taking turns with the assorted gear. Oxenham Space Locator maintains the Berlin-School modulating fun for much of its duration, save a bleep-ambient coda towards the end. Devonschire Oscillations treads closest to something like ambient techno, though the added guitar-synth tones keeping things on that '70s vibe.

Zeal Monachorum does have nifty portions throughout, but like the krautrock Plank & Ishq are drawing influence from, demands your undivided attention to get much out of it. Fortunately, you'll get plenty opportunities to do so, as the two have launched a new label exclusively exploring such music, called Zeit. That word sounds familiar, somehow.