Tomita - The Firebird

RCA: 1975/2016

Tomita's passing was sad, but not unexpected, the famed Japanese synth wizard having lived a long, accomplished life. And if there's anything positive to be gained from a storied musician's death, it gives their estate and associated labels a reason to push out a fresh round of re-issues of their seminal work. Not that it happens all the time – Prince's estate remains rightfully protective of the man's vaults of music – but far as I can tell, Sony and Tomita have been on okay terms for the past few decades. About as positive a relationship as anyone can have with a faceless monolithic entertainment corporation anyway. (they do make wonderful portable music devices tho'!)

Not that Tomita's '70s albums were out of print or hard to find, but it'd been a while since his famed records were last in fresh circulation. Heck, Firebird alone hadn't been released in non-Japanese stores since the early '90s, though to be fair, Snowflakes Are Dancing is generally regarded as the Very Important Tomita Album deserving of frequent re-issues, since that's where all his technical innovations (Phasing! Flanging! Spatial stereo!) first appeared.

Once he got all that sorted, Tomita was able to crank out more classical interpretations at a modestly steady clip – just which ones would he take on, then? Bach and Beethoven were clearly out, as Carlos had already created the defining electronic takes on them (for a while anyway). Nay, ol' Isao-san had something a little more modern in mind, one of the giants of 20th Century classical and ballet composers, Russian Igor Stravinsky and his Firebird suite. Even if you've never heard a single piece of orchestral music in your life (!!), you've likely heard some variation of Infernal Dance - pure heavy metal fodder, that. Though I always think final boss in jRPG, which makes sense since Infernal Dance kinda' is a final boss confrontation in the actual ballet.

Obviously Tomita couldn't perform and produce the entire suite, so we get a truncated version of Firebird, with most of the highlights intact (think Disney's Fantasia 2000 version). For a composition that traditionally utilizes huge orchestras, what Tomita cranks out here is quite remarkable, synth-heavy sections of Round Of The Princesses, Lullaby, and Finale hitting you with just as much gravitas while worming in quirky, bleepy, flanged sounds and effects. I cannot deny though, Infernal Dance doesn't pump the adrenaline so effectively with the tinny synths here. Give me that full-frontal horn assault any day!

A couple bonus compositions were made for Side B, including Debussy's Prelude To The Afternoon Of A Faun. I don't know much about this one, but it's pleasant enough. The second is another heavy metal favourite, Moussorgsky's A Night On Bald Mountain. Hot damn, but are those choir samples ever put to great use here! Even the weird, burbling bloops have me imagining dancing devils as some cyborg abominations. Like, if that Disney version went full anime. Makes sense, with all the players involved.

Yes - Yessongs

Atlantic: 1973

For some – okay, many - this is Peak Yes, a collection of live recordings cribbing tunes from their best Phase 1 albums with most of the classic line-up intact. After this, they'd release Tales From Topographic Oceans, where casual folks finally had just about enough of prog-rock's highfalutin sense of self, and the personnel changes would come often. Heck, they started right in the middle of these tours, original drummer Bill Bruford replaced by Alan White on the fly. Considering ol' Alan's stuck with the band longer than anyone not named Chris Squire though, shouldn't he be considered the official Yes drummer over Bill?

Also, how crazy must that have been for Mr. White to get thrown into the band's overtly complex compositions with almost no prep? He was already an experienced drummer with The Alan Price Set and The Plastic Ono Band, so he adapted fine, but still. Just as well the lone drum solo in this 3LP set is one of the few Bruford recordings, towards the tail-end of Perpetual Change. Don't worry, Alan, you'll get many opportunities to shine in the ensuing decade.

Naturally, a pretentious rock band has to open their pretentious concerts with nothing less than a pretentious excerpt from Igor Stravinsky's Firebird Suite (Tomita must have noticed), but it does serve a wicked lead-in for Siberian Khatru. Following that, all the Yes classics show up: Heart Of The Sunrise, Roundabout, Close To The Edge, Yours Is No Disgrace, And You And I, plus plenty of solo showcases along the way. Can't deny the synth-dork in me gets all atwitter over hearing Rick Wakeman doing his thing on various keyboards in Excerpts From “The Six Wives Of Henry VIII”, and Chris has plenty of funky bass jams on a lengthier rendition of The Fish (Schindleria Praematurus). Plus how can you deny all that awesome shredding from Steve Howe! So much shredding from Steve Howe, just so much...

As for actual differences between these live and studio versions, everything on Yessongs feels looser. Sometimes it can throw you off, especially if you're used to hearing the perfectly polished studio takes, but once the band locks into their groove and go off (the crescendos in Heart Of The Sunrise, the sonic freak-outs of Close To The Edge, etc.), it's quite the exhilarating ride of musicianship.

If any song makes perfect sense in a live context, it's Starship Trooper. The Life Seeker portion is a chipper, happy piece, then goes into the reflective Disillusion, before heading for the final stretch of Würm, quite possibly the greatest 'dumb rock-out' composition in Yes' entire discography. The hook is stupid simple, instantly lodging itself into your brain matter, and it just builds, and builds, and builds, each band member getting solo action along the way before ending on a huge musical high. It's like an awesome, extended, in-the-zone Neil Young & Crazy Horse jam, but with tons more technical skill that never loses its soul of rock 'n' roll.

Legiac - The Voynich Manuscript

Dronarivm: 2016

Hey, it's another Dronarivm release. Remember when I went through a bunch of these at the start of this months-long alphabetical backlog? My how time flies. Been nearly one-hundred reviews written since the last item from this label, and the fact I'm still not through yet sends my mind to the lands of Bogglin. Heck, this marks the fifth 'V' album in this batch, which increased my total 'V' albums by 30%! Can you just imagine how many 'W's there are? (spoiler: not many)

There hasn't been much released under the name Legiac, but the players involved have definitely been busy bodies. Dutch brothers Don and Roel Funcken started out doing glitchy braindance, IDM, and electro under a number of aliases, most prominent being Funckarma, Cane, and Mystery Artist. They got a look-in with Very Important IDM labels like Warp and Skam, but never broke out of obscurity in any significant way. The other player involved in Legiac is Cor Bolten, who Lord Discogs tells me was active with new wave bands since the early '80s, whilst doing film score work on the side.

Seems like an unlikely pairing with these folks, but somewhere along the way, they did team up. First it was doing experimental stuff as Cor Bolten, Don Funcken & Roel Funcken, then doing downtempo, abstract stuff as Dif:use, and finally IDM leaning material as Legiac. That one looked to be a one-off effort, and a final one, the individual parties going their separate ways again. A few years ago though, Roel and Cor dusted Legiac off, The Voynich Manuscript their second album under the revitalized project. Yo', where Don in all this?

When I first dove into this album, I wasn't expecting something as melodic as we get here. True, I didn't have any prior musical knowledge of Misters Funcken and Bolten, just my preconceived notions based on what Dronarivm works I have taken in. And for sure there's ample amounts of droning ambience and blanketing field recordings present, but often used in a subtler, graceful manner than most other works in this vein. There's space and depth in these layers of sound, with melodic tones at the fore, but never so prominent they drown out the burbling static and white noise lurking underneath. What's remarkable is the chaotic sub-surface of sound is so consistent throughout this album, whenever it does recede, it not only makes the melodic leads leap out, you also feel that absence as though you've lost a chunk of your soul. Or maybe it's just like that in the final piece Ambikythera Mechanism, what with opulent organ tones driving things forward.

It really is a gorgeous composition, and many of the early tracks in The Voynich Manuscript are darn lovely as well. However, there's also a lengthy stretch towards the back-half that kinda' dithers about with wallpaper sonic doodles and experimental drone. They're fine in their own right, but compared to the highs this album hits, kinda' forgettable too. So it goes.

Andrew Heath - Soundings

Disco Gecko: 2017

I've been neglectful of Andrew Heath. It's not like he's been absent, releasing music at a yearly clip, but it's been a few albums since I last talked him up. Thing is, though I generally like his minimalist ambient works, it's also something that's reliably just there, not terribly fussed about getting attention. I can go back to it whenever I feel, comfortable that it'll sound exactly how I expect it will, and that'll be that. Seeing as how it's been two years (!) since I last reviewed one of Mr. Heath's records, it stands to reason my attention's been diverted elsewhere in the meanwhile. Absolutely so, labels like ...txt, Dronarivm, Cryo Chamber, and, er, Psychonavigation having lured my ambient explorations away from Disco Gecko in that time. Well, better get caught up on ol' Andrew then, starting with his most recent offering, Soundings.

One thing Mr. Heath has started putting more focus on is his use of field recordings, making them the guiding backbone of his compositions rather than sonic texturing. That is no more prominently displayed than with the opening track Wanderlust, where the good ol' clackity-clack of a typewriter greets us. More often than not, when I hear an album open with a typewriter, I expect the person at the machine to proclaim he's taking his work back underground (to keep it from falling into the wrong hands), but I suspect Andrew's manifesto isn't so renegade. Instead, this piece features distant footsteps, crackling static, soft synthy timbres, and those distinct, sparse piano tones that will always bring the Harold Budd comparisons, though Heath's use of them goes into abstraction. Halfway through the fourteen-minute piece, acoustic guitar plucks and muted dialog take the lead, though the typewriter/piano combo does return for the final leg. If Wanderlust was about capturing the feeling of one's mind drifting while trying to get proper-work done, it certainly does that. You've no idea how many times I got distracted even writing this paragraph!

For as much Andrew made in the liner notes about his field recordings being his primary source of inspiration, from which he crafted his music around, I don't get that sense from the rest of Soundings. For sure there's more throughout, the usual assortment of open areas, intimate settings, and the like, but nothing quite so significant as the typewriter of Wanderlust. Rather, he's given more time and space for the guest musicians to do their things. This includes clarinet from Bill Howgego in A Break In The Clouds, cello from Stéphane Marlot in Days In-Between, and the usual instrumental accompaniments from Anne Chris Bakker, whom Heath's been working with for some time now. They're all fine pieces, though does edge the music closer into modern classical's domain than ambient.

And in the end, I still found myself more enthralled by Andrew's 'traditional' songs, such as the Bandcamp bonus of The Painted Surface, something of a sober reflection of Wanderlust. Navigating art halls never felt so isolating.

Phonothek - Red Moon

Cryo Chamber: 2017

If you asked me in early 2016 whether I'd buy Phonothek's second album sight-unheard, I'd have wondered who you were even talking about, the duo not making their debut on Cryo Chamber until mid-2016. I get the inquiry though, how first impressions can go a long way in determining future purchases. Simon Heath's dark ambient label has provided me with a lot of first impressions, more as a means to sate my own morbid curiosity of what sort of music lies behind any particular piece of cover art. Some discoveries have led me digging further into artists' discographies, but most are one-and-done deals for yours truly. That's not a bad thing, time devoted to music exploration limited as is – after casting a wide trawling net, you pick the ones you want to keep, and return the others to the cold, dark sea.

I was totally expecting Phonothek to be one such cast-off. Yeah, the cover art for Lost In Fog has a cool looking tower and all, which was enough for me to scope them out – might it be some sort of Mordor-drone? Beyond that, however, I didn't expect much, the album itself not especially hot on the tongues of dark ambient specialists compared to other frequently name-dropped artists. I sure as heck would never have guessed I'd buy a follow-up album the moment it was announced. There's just something about that trumpet playing though, so alluring, so hypnotizing... so seductive, like an enchantress' mesmerizing dance against a grey, windswept backdrop. Or an apocalyptic Hellscape of a world torn asunder by venturing too far across the Roche limit, in this particular case.

If Lost In Fog dealt with a near-future of barren wastes and emptied societies, Red Moon takes us even further, whatever remnants of civilizations reduced to a feral state even as their world literally collapses around them. Cool concept, bro, though I don't think Phonothek quite reach that level of 'cinematic drone' in this offering. When I think of the end of all that there is, I expect to hear that distinct crushing drone Cryo Chamber is so often replete with across their releases: distant rumbles of earthquakes, or collapsing mountainsides, even cascading thunder storms time-stretched into unearthly roars. Red Moon comes off rather small in scope, less about painting grand canvases and more about relaying the mood and tone of those existing in such a clime'. And boy do those trumpet solos ever portray a bleak, despairing atmosphere indeed.

Again, Phonothek's approach to dark ambient is more in line with modern classical and freeform jazz, utilizing various instruments in unconventional ways to create abstract music. This can range from simple piano, trumpet, woodwinds, or strings, to filtered percussion, orchestral swells, ghostly whispers, or whatever samples are causing that burbling, churning sound throughout. And once again, I find this all strangely hypnotic and entrancing, as though Phonothek are snake charmers, and I'm beholden to their swaying suites of desolate dirges. What, me worry of impending doom?

SiJ & Item Caligo - Queer Reminiscence

Reverse Alignment: 2017

Having taken in more of SiJ's music since my first dabbling last year, I'm surprised he's ended up with a couple albums on Cryo Chamber. For sure his style of dark ambient and sonic experiments works within the label's overall manifesto (cinematic drone, and all that), but his sense of sombre melancholy feels more benign than this genre typically goes. He's less about the bleak outlook and crippling depression, and more about quiet contemplation, reflective of inner struggles rather than chaotic turmoil. Or perhaps it's music capturing the moments following the strife, of accepting complacency, the calm of clarity that comes when all hope is finally lost. Not a cheering thought.

Still, that leaves Mr. Sikach in good company with his latest pairing, Item Caligo. More of a modern classical composer, with distant pianos and crackly strings his most striking features, he's released numerous albums with such reflective titles like The Night Of Escapism, Self-Deception As Rescue, and Go Away, I Want To Sleep. Even more intriguing is a one-time collaboration with a chap named 'i want to be dead' called Lifelong Suicidal Thoughts. According to Lord Discogs, that individual also goes by, Waqs, Serializer, Amen Weed, amphetamine hysteria, Freak Bwoy, 'born to be buried in the grave', I Cry When I Think Of Past, 'my family members were awful so i killed them in a particularly brutal form', and DJ Sailor Moon, among numerous others. I'm not joking.

Sorry for the side-track. Let's get to Queer Reminiscence, an album with song titles like So Terrible To Contemplate, Her Soul Involuntarily Yearned For Rest, It Was Good To Destroy Once Again, Life Loves Your Pain, and a final, fourteen-minute minimalist drone closer called Oblivion Is The Reward Of The Former. Yeah, it's one of those kinds of albums. All aboard the mope-mobile!

Heh, no, not really. Queer Reminiscence does have its brooding tones, but as mentioned, SiJ's craft with this music is often the sort of melancholy that feels strangely warm and comforting, like the embrace of an old, familiar blanket, even as you stare out a frigid window pane into a grey winter landscape. Add in Item Caligo's modern classical touches, and you have yourself an album perfectly suited for those with acute cases of SADS (*cough*). The titular track features forlorn pad work gently ebbing with layers of timbre, Her Soul Involuntarily Yearned For Rest is a soothing piece of traditional ambient, while If Our Hope Not Fades lets Item Caligo indulge the ol' ivories some - I'm assuming, since it's his thing.

Really, Queer Reminiscence mostly sounds like an Item Caligo album, with SiJ providing sonic treatments and field recordings. There's little of the dark ambient that typically keeps him in those folds, the music here more of a modern classical outing with drone tendencies. Good mood music, all said.

(PS: Vincent Villuis gets a 'samples credit' here, which can only mean, eventually, Ultimae's gonna' go dark ambient too!)

Rapoon - Psi-Transient

Aquarellist: 2013

I first stumbled upon Rapoon way back in my initial ambient explorations, and have consistently seen his name crop up ever since. However, an impossibly high work-rate has left Robin Storey with an incredibly daunting discography, Lord Discogs listing over seventy albums to his name. Hell, there's over twenty listed since Psi-Transient dropped four years ago! And that's not to mention his pioneering work with seminal dark ambient act Zoviet France before he went solo. So a regular busy-body all said, one I probably wasn't ready to take a plunge with back when, but definitely ready for here-now. Only trouble is where do I start? With a discography this extensive, I'll have to do some serious research, verify expert opinions, study scene influ- oh, never mind, I'll just buy this particular one I see on sale at Reverse Alignment's online shop.

Along with his Zoviet background, one of the things that made Rapoon stand out in the nu-Nineties ambient scene was his inclusion of ethnic and tribal sounds. This could be anything from drums, woodwinds, or chants, but always manipulated in such a way as to fit his looping, droning sound experiments. I honestly don't know how much of this has carried over to his recent output, as there's no possible way I'm taking in all of his music in such a short amount of time. I'd need a full day to just get through what's offered on Spotify alone, and there's not a person alive with that sort of attention span anymore. What I can tell you is if you're expecting some of that ethnic styling in Psi-Transient, you'll be left wanting.

Fortunately, I have such little knowledge of Rapoon's overall output, I come in with no preconceived biases. On the other hand, I've no clue where Psi-Transient exists within his oeuvre. Maybe nowhere specific, Mr. Storey striking me as the sort that follows wherever his muse takes him. If that means shovelling out music created for its own sake, then so be it.

For instance, opening track Shake Root prominently features distorted, thunking rhythms, and had me thinking I'd be in for some noisy, industrial-leaning sonic assaults; definitely not something I was expecting in the slightest. Then follow-up track Sentire goes mellow with gentle synth tones and looping, dubby drums pitter-pattering in the background. Ah, feeding off that old-school ambient techno vibe, then. Nah, scratch the 'techno' part of that, the next couple tracks strictly synth pad noodling. Then we're treated to some modern classical dalliances, More Halls And Afternoons Of Sun a gentle piano piece, In Voice We See mostly orchestral strings played in reverse.

From there, much of Psi-Transient flits between ambient drone and experimental modern classical pieces (ooh, trumpets in Smoke Glass Weed, like elephants trippin' on acid!). It's all very strangely captivating music, in a wall-papery sort of way. A fairly pleasant album, all said, though maybe not the best introduction to Rapoon's music. Which of his seventy albums are, though?

Dag Rosenqvist - Elephant

Dronarivm: 2016

As I trawl through Dronarivm albums, one thing's become clear to me: they don't really have a set roster of artists to their name. Rather, they welcome many a journeyman (and journeywoman) for a release or two, most of which already have extensive discographies behind them. Not that Dronarivm can help it, the Moscow print being in existence for a mere half-decade at this point. Either their A&R are quite efficient in bringing in veteran talent, or they quickly established a rep that made all these abstract ambient, drone-classical dudes and dudettes eager to contribute to the Dronarivm catalogue. Fair play I say, since the label's introduced me to a ton of musicians that I'd never have stumbled upon otherwise.

Maybe this Dag Rosenqvist though, as he's got quite the history in music making. His career started out as Jasper TX, releasing albums throughout the mid-'00s that leaned towards the post-rock side of things. As time went on, his guitar strums grew more abstract and droning, which has acts like Fennesz and Tim Hecker popping up in Lord Discogs' Recommendations algorithms. During this period he collaborated with other musicians under his own name, and when he retired the Jasper TX project in 2011, carried on making music as such. And he's played a part in other assorted groups like From The Mouth Of The Sun and The Silent Set. With over thirty albums to his name, the amount of labels he's appeared on is extensive, with almost none drawing recollection in my eyes (ooh, waz' this Slaapwel Records?). Just how many post-rock, ambient fuzz prints even exist?

So obviously ol' Dag has made more music than I can reasonably take in to give this here Elephant perspective among his works. From what I can glean, it touches upon many facets of his muse, tying everything together under a pseudo-narrative of dealing with tumultuous emotions long after we're told to have moved on from them. Gentle, quiet passages are interrupted with brutal distortion (oh God, does Porcelain ever do this). Touching piano leitmotifs lead to mournful reflections with horns and cellos. Tension is built through muted percussion and twitchy drone, erupting in abrasive climaxes that, even after knowing they're coming, still throws me off with dread anticipation. Throughout it all, Elephant almost cruelly teases, tugs, and toys with your senses, and I have no doubt this album captures a rather bad day for those suffering from crippling anxiety, even while doing something as simple as “out grocery shopping” or “when you ride your bike to work”, as Dag puts it. (he apparently went through some difficult times himself).

The album all plays out like a soundtrack to an intense, psychological drama, scored by an unrestrained Hans Zimmer (he loves tense builds and overbearing crescendos). The track Come Silence even has a little noir feel going for it. It's also nothing I expected from an album called Elephant, but then this little Dronarivm excursion's been chock-full of surprises. What's one more?

Olan Mill - Cavade Morlem

Dronarivm: 2015

Olan Mill makes ambient music with a modern classical mindset. Or modern classical music with an ambient approach. Or drone music with a whole 'lotta strings. Or calm music that has nothing to do with Viking breakcore. I somehow feel that such a description still isn't specific enough, but there's only so many ways one can describe ambient music. It doesn't even have nifty unique 'narratives' I can wax poetic over like its darker cousin. Nay, this is ambient music in its purist form, in that it's relatively formless, abstract art best served as background texture, though accompanying a lovely video of natural settings or garden fauna doesn't hurt either.

As always then, it's up to the info surrounding Olan Mill to fill out my self-imposed word count quota. This is in fact a project headed up by Alex Smalley, who's been releasing music under this guise since way back in 2010 (holy cow, it's been seven years!). He also has another project with one Simon Bainton as Pausal, and while that one's also been releasing music since 2010, it isn't with as much frequency. Still, between the two, Mr. Smalley has accumulated around eighteen albums under his belt, across such labels as Serein, Preservation, hibernate, Barge Recordings, Students Of Decay, plus a DJ mix for Headphone Commute. Oh, a couple items on Dronarivm too.

Of what I can gather from sporadic samples, Olan Mill trends towards the more modern classically minded vein of Mr. Smalley's muse, whereas his Pausal material goes more ambient. Not that your typical layman will notice much difference between either project, but with my highly attuned music critic ears, I can indeed tell there's distinct instrumentation in Olan Mill, whereas Pausal tends to layer the timbre thick in pad and string drone.

Which makes Cavade Morlem a conundrum within ol' Alex' discography, in that it comes off more of a Pausal album than an Olan Mill one, at least with the limited examples of each project I've taken in. The music here started out as pieces performed live in concerts involving violins, guitars, plus samples of organs and voices, which fits the Olan Mill mould. Smalley then reworked those into comparatively serene compositions, where the inevitable Brian Eno namedrop is unavoidable. Heck, Byruck wouldn't sound out of place as a companion to An Ending (Ascent). Also, Gurriva reminds me of the outro portion of First Twilight from Deep Forest. Talk about your obscure callbacks.

While the actual arrangements don't differ much from track to track - flowing stretches of layered synths, strings, and sounds - they do offer differing textures dependant on which leads. Chort features prominent ethereal vocals, Novnal has angelic pads, Feina features shimmering strings, Lighul has an ominous tone, and Live At The Millenium Barn has a surprisingly heavy bottom end on its synths, like the power of a hefty church organ. It's all a rather vintage, classical take on ambient music, which only makes sense given the musician involved.

Cyril Secq & Orla Wren - Branches

Dronarivm: 2016

Can't say I've ever taken in an album of classical guitar music. Have I even dabbled? The closest I can think of is Michael Brook, but his Cobalt Blue was more an ambient thing, his guitar work another layer of timbre (especially that sweet 'Infinite Guitar' layer!). I must have a couple stray examples of the stuff lurking in this pile of music o' mine, yet the fact I can't instantly recall any doesn't bode well for its prospects. Like, is Jam & Spoon's Hispanos In Space really the best I can think of?

And yeah, all those prog-rock dudes for sure lay out some complicated, classically inspired segments in their works. They're still doing it within the confines of prog-rock though, with fellow band members contributing to the overall songcraft. No, I'm talking solo, acoustic, non-folksy, improvisational technical works. With such greats as... um, okay, I don't know anyone in this field. Even bringing up Wiki-Lists draws a complete blank on yours truly. Julian Bream? Xuefei Yang? Craig Ogden? John Williams? (no, not that John Williams) Yeah, I know shit all here. But hey, even doing this cursory research into the subject has jacked a solid info-dump into my brainpan, so there's that.

Which finally brings us to Branches from Cyril Secq and Orla Wren. The former formed the experimental French folk group Astrïd, while the latter often pairs up with acoustic string musicians to make clicky fuzzy abstract ambient folk-pop. I'm assuming the two were at least aware of each others work, as somewhere along the way, Orla roped Cyril into providing guitar work for his 2013 album Book Of The Folded Forest. Mind, several musicians contributed to that one, as is often the case with many Orla Wren albums, but the creative synergy must have held stronger between the two, going into a collaborative project together. Cyril will provide the strings, and Orla will provide the treatments.

No, really, that's about all there is to Branches. Mr. Secq's finger plucking is spacious and unfussy, the very definition of music as like a meandering stream of conscious flow. Or exploring the branching paths on the limb of a tree, as it were. Of the eight tracks, Troisième Branche uses violin strokes rather than acoustic strumming, while Sixième Branche and Huitième Branche mixes the two together. Regarding the types of guitar Cyril uses, 'fraid I can't help you there. As said, I'm woefully under-educated in the intricacies of classical acoustic music. It does all sound quite pleasant though.

As for Orla Wren, it seems as though he's taken a step back in this partnership, his minimalist sounds consisting of static burbles, clicking pops, sprinkling tonks, airy feedback, weird echoes, and the sort of random electronic noises you'd expect of musique concrete. You know, pretentious art! Heh, no, I'm ribbing - Branches doesn't come off nearly as stuffy. It is extremely avante garde though, clearly intended for intellectual sorts more interested in studying minutiae than a little easy-listening enjoyment.

Lorenzo Masotto - Aeolian Processes

Dronarivm: 2017

I've bought a few releases from Dronarivm now, but it wasn't with intent to scope the Moscow label out. It just happened that way, me spotting a few eye-catching items, and taking a blind leap of faith that they'd turn out interesting. That they have, so I figured a little stop-over at Dronarivm's Bandcamp couldn't hurt either, see what their full discography looks like. And lo', wouldn't you know it, they had one of those nifty 'bulk CD' deals available too. I sure as shit can't resist one of those, and I may as well spring for the big ol' 10x bundle while I'm at it. Only... there isn't even that many available in one fell swoop, Dronarivm's limited-runs having thus created a stock issue. Ah well, the five-piece it is then, starting with Aeolian Processes from Lornezo Masotto.

Mr. Masotto hails from Italy (shock!), and is more of a classical musician than the drone ambient sort I've often found on Dronarivm. Not that this is some anomaly with the label, as they do offer outlets for modern classical composers. As this blog's a testament towards though, it's not a style of music I typically indulge in, but as the more minimalist strains of the genre can tread into ambient's territory, I'll cross paths with it on occasion. That all being said, I cannot deny it was the cover art that drew me into Aeolian Processes, a windswept tree shorn naked by atmospheric forces a striking image among Dronarivm's usual fare. You'd almost expect it a dark ambient release. All that's missing is an abandoned boat laying at the base of the tree's trunk.

Lorenzo primarily specializes in piano compositions, of which makes up the bulk of the music here as well. Again, I'm no expert on this aspect of modern classical, though I do know this is a wide open field of expertise, several pianists across the globe plying their trade to captivated audiences. Martha Argerich! Vladimir Horowitz! Evgeny Kissin! Sergei Rachmanioff! Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli! Maurizio Pollini! Yuja Wang! Krystian Zimerman! Mikhail Pletnev! Vladimir Ashkenzy! These are all great piano players, because Ranker.com tells me they are. I'm not sure how Lorenzo Masotto stacks against them, but I bet they don't add subtle electronic drones and burbling synths to their compositions.

His electronic treatments provide each track with their own flavor beyond being another lovely piece of melancholy piano music. Space Flowers, When The City Sleeps, and the titular cut have little bloopy arps playing in the background. My Great-Grandmother Lived In The Mountains makes use of pulsing synths playing in reverse. Geyser features blobby burbles bubbling out. Desert and Repeater indulge a little pad drone in support. Drone even features something approaching percussion.

I can't say Aeolian Processes is the most exceptional album of piano music I've ever heard, because I'm hardly well-versed in the genre to give such a definitive statement. For those rather grey days, however, I do find it most pleasant indeed.

Mick Chillage - Paths

Databloem: 2016

I spent a huge chunk of my last Mick Chillage review endlessly going on about music formats, nearly rendering (M)odes a hilarious/frustrating non-review. Not this time though. I'm giving Paths all the musical critical hyper-practical attention it deserves. But first, some background on Databloem!

I've name-dropped the label in the past, on account artists I've covered before have released material through them. Finally digging through their catalogue proper-like, I didn't realize how wide a net Databloem casts. They've put out albums from students of '80s old-school ambient (Oöphoi! Tau Ceti! Steve Stoll! Mathias Grassow!) to students of '90s school ambient (Chillage! Norris as Nacht Plank! Segue! Lingua Lustra!), and a whole lot more I don't recognize in the slightest (I think sgnl_fltr appeared on an Ultimae compilation one time). They aren't a large label by any stretch – fifteen years in business, with a half-dozen releases per – but as they came upon that anniversary, Databloem felt a swagger-itch in need of scratching. Their solution was rounding up some artists who'd released prior music on their print, and have them craft whole new albums in celebration. Only, a regular LP just wouldn't do, oh no. To celebrate fifteen years, Databloem shot for nothing less than the double-LP experience for each artist. I... can't say I've ever seen that happen before, so points for unique marketing.

Of course, dealing with ambient producers here, knocking out a couple fifty-plus minute compositions to fill that running length ain't no th'ang. And while Mick Chillage doesn't typically go to those runtimes in his works, he does indulge himself to that degree in the fifty minute long Three Years. Beyond being something of a nod to the '80s school of ambient though, I'm struggling to justify such a length. The opening section has flowing pad synths, and under normal circumstances, tidily wraps up around the thirteen minute mark, a suitable length for this sort of track. But a single, low drone carries on, and we're eventually introduced to spacier, minimalist doodling with piano touches – rather '90s style. That carries on for another twelve or so minutes, then things go brighter with drawn-out strings (I'm hesitant to drop the 'modern classical' tag on it). There's a return to prior elements for the lengthy finish, but man does Three Years ever take its time getting there. And if you feel I've spent too much word-count detailing a single track out of twelve, it's kinda' hard ignoring such a behemoth of a composition.

Three Years essentially eats up the bulk of CD2, with a couple 'shorter' ambient pieces that tread close to the realms of New Age ambient rounding it out (Hearts Of Space, yo'). If you have a craving for Chillage beats though, CD1 should get your fix in, some even getting downright peppy and funky with it (Canis Majoris). It isn't anything we haven't heard from Mick before, but chap's got a solid groove going such that he doesn't need convoluted wheels at this point.

Harold Budd & Brian Eno - Ambient 2: The Plateaux Of Mirror

Editions EG/EMI: 1980/2009

How does one follow-up a genre- nay, scene-defining album? Carry on with business as usual, I guess, and that's what Brian Eno did in the immediate aftermath of Music For Airports. It's not like he had plans to create ambient music as a critical benchmark and cultural touchstone, 'music as abstract art' ideas already explored throughout the '70s. All Music For Airports really did was crystallize those concepts under an easily identifiable banner. It wasn't Eno's manifesto to be the vanguard of an entirely new approach in music-making, more content playing the role of producer for numerous new wave bands emerging out of Britain and New York. Then again, one does not title an album Ambient 1 without some inclining this was a concept that would see future interpretations as a series. Kinda' committed yourself there, Eno ol' chap.

He couldn't tackle this wide-open field of potential music exploration on his own though, hence calling in one Harold Budd for a little collaborative work. Mr. Budd, having worked behind the scenes with jazz and minimalist musicians as a composer since the mid-'60s, released a proper debut album in 1978 called The Pavilion Of Dreams, released on Eno's own Obscure print. In fact, ol' Brian helped produce it, finding Budd's lengthy and sustained 'soft pedal' approach to piano playing gelling nicely with his notions of abstract minimalism. If anyone should join the ambient jamboree Eno was itching to set off, Harold was a perfect pairing. Having an actual pianist making the music instead of manipulating tape-loops is always preferable, right?

And yet, it was the looping nature of Music For Airports that gave it such a distinct characteristic that it spawned an entire genre of music. With Harold Budd laying his feathery touch upon the ol' ivories though, The Mirror Of Plateaux comes off less an ambient record, and more a modern classical one, where traditional musicianship remains in charge of a composition's direction. It's still very loose and improvisational, mind you, but you can't help but see Budd performing it, whereas ambient music typically prefers removing the notion of a musician at work altogether. At least, that's how it evolved over time – ironclad genre rules were still in the process of development at this early stage.

As for how Ambient 2: Plateaux Boogaloo sounds, it's fairly similar to Budd & Eno's later work on The Pearl, though with less of a coherent theme going on beyond music making for its own sake. It's mostly delicate piano noodling or soft organ diddling, with some synth pad in support. Not Yet Remembered breaks mould with a choir pad, and Wind In Lonely Faces adds bell and bowl tones, but that's about as adventurous as this album gets. Pleasant? Yes. Calm and soothing? Absolutely. Essential listening? Eh, The Pearl was a better pairing of these two's talents, but Plateaux Of Mirrors is a fine effort all around, a fitting companion piece to Eno's Ambient series.

Tangerine Dream - Alpha Centauri

Ohr/Esoteric Reactive: 1971/2011

Any chronicler of Tangerine Dream claims every album of theirs is an Important Stepping Stone in the band's development throughout the '70s, how each LP led to another new wrinkle in their sonic tapestry. And that remains true for their sophomore effort Alpha Centauri, though consensus states this one isn't as important as the others that came later. I don't agree with that entirely - at least on a conceptual level it's a significant change of direction from their debut Electronic Meditation. Even by title alone, you can tell this one's aiming for sending you on a journey somewhere specific, no matter how abstract and psychedelic the music gets. It just so happens space was the place everyone thought was the new hotness at the time, moon landings and Stanley Kubrick movies inspiring folks with their own takes on cosmic exploration. Plus, you can totally get away with sounding all weird and shit, because does anyone know what music at Alpha Centauri actually sounds like? Heck, we didn't even know what sounds Saturn could make yet! Freeform imagination songcraft abounds!

First up, because this is way-early Tangerine Dream, don't come into this album expecting anything like their mid-'70s genre-defining Berlin-School synth-wizardry sound. Nay, this is the band still in their psychedelic rock phase, though definitely pushing the boundaries of what could still be technically classified as 'rock music' within this nascent kraut offshoot. Opener Sunrise In The Third System serves as an intro of sorts, only four-and-a-half minutes long while building upon organ operatics and spaced-out guitar sounds. If this doesn't sound like you're out on the fringes of an extra-terrestrial planet, then you don't know your kosmische.

That one's fairly straight-forward as songs go on this album though. Second track Fly And Collision Of Comas Sola settles for nothing less than musique concrete abstraction for a good two minutes of its start, all pinging synth zaps and shimmering laser-lights; it's like you're riding the comet itself! Oh yeah, Comas Sola refers to a comet passing near Jupiter at the time, so this piece wants to recreate a journey on said comet, and potential collision with the big ball of temperamental hydrogen. I'd say they pull it off, much of the track a meandering, dithering piece of synth strings, organs, and almost inaudible guitar strums. Two-thirds deep, drums emerge, flutes be a tootin', and the track erupts in a cacophonous, psychedelic freak-out. If you feel that's too rocky for your Tangerine Dream music, check out the 2011 bonus track Ultima Thule Part One, where the band does a full rock-out as any psych-band could.

Still, the titular cut is the main attraction, running twenty-two minutes long. Yeah, it's one of those pieces, where the band seems to be fluffing about for an endless amount of time. Some weird synth noises here, an extended flute solo there, a little choir action and spoken German radio-chatter elsewhere, not much linking it all together. Methinks some refinement in their song-writing is still required.

Enigma - Voyageur

Virgin: 2003

I can't say Enigma fell off after this album, Michael Cretu having released three additional albums since, including one this past winter after an eight year absence. And while hard sales are no where near what was enjoyed at the start of this project, he's retained enough of a dedicated following that his streaming figures remain respectable (so sayeth The Spotify).

Yet ask casual electronic music followers these days what they think of those albums, and they'll answer you with “Who's Enigma?” Then you'll try to educate them on albums like MCMXC a.D., and singles like Return To Innocence, and maybe they'll mention hearing their moms play those when they were kids, to which you'll realize you're getting just so very old and want to retreat to comforting sounds. Like the familiar, seductive, soothing refrains of classic Enigma, yeah, that'll do the trick, and by the by, have they released anything new lately? Ooh, here's some stuff on Spotify, may as well check that out.

Not that I blame folks for figuring Engima's time had passed. By the fourth album, The Screen Behind The Mirror, it felt as though Mr. Cretu was stuck recycling old habits; at least even he recognized the sound had grown stale. Following a greatest hits package proclaiming closure on the first chapter of Enigma's story, he came out with this album, Voyageur, a stated deliberate change in direction and song-writing. What that was supposed to lead to remains anyone's guess.

Rather, the main talking points surrounding Voyageur almost always bring up what it lacks compared to Enigma of old. No more ethnic chants and Gregorian sampling, gone are the vintage woodwinds that always immediately identified a Michael Cretu production. Both “Curly” M.C. and his wife still provide a few vocals, but more vocalists have been added to the table too. In fact, this is the 'poppiest' Enigma's ever sounded, songs short, concise, and radio-ready should any of them catch on. Only two did, the titular cut and Boum-Boum, both dancier options. Not so dancey as Look Of Today though, with one of the catchiest hooks I've ever heard in the Enigma canon (and well it should, being an interpolation of ABC's The Look Of Love).

Elsewhere, Incognito gets rockier, Page Of Cups aims for a little chill-out compilation action (it failed), and tracks like Weightless and The Piano dip closer to the New Age side of Cretu's muse. Meanwhile, In The Shadow, In The Light and closer Follow The Sun shoot for the emotional, spiritual feels, and I can't say I'm getting the feels from them like other Enigma tunes. There's something lacking, the same strident confidence you'd hear from Cretu's production no matter how overblown the music could get. Maybe its the result of trying something different, a feeling-out process after so many years relying on familiar songcraft. And Voyageur is fine enough on that regard, but that's about the only lasting impression this album ever generated. Ain't no one humming Boum-Boum, even then.

Phonothek - Lost In Fog

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Yes, I'm still astounded that Cryo Chamber keeps unearthing unique artists that must satisfy whatever micro-niche taste one might have. How does that selection process go, though? I mean, a dark ambient label that’s gained an impeccable reputation in such a short time must get sent demos constantly now, budding artists looking to make their mark with Simon Heath’s blessing. I can imagine it almost turning into American Idol:

Heath: “What sort of dark ambient do you make?”
Contestant 1: “I make cold, wintery music, like you’re traversing the Arctic.”
Heath: “Sorry, already got one of those. Next.”
Contestant 1: “No, wait, I meant ANT-arctic!”
Contestant 2: “Haha, too late. So yo’, check it, Sabled Sun, m’man! I’m all about that bleak, future-shock dystopia sound too.”
Heath: “Why would I add another artist that makes music like myself?”
Contestant 2: “’Cause – and this’ll blow your mind – it’s from the perspective of the Star Wars universe, man!”
Heath: “That… might be too specific for what we do here. Wait, aren’t you MC Chris?”
Contestant 2: “Uh, …no?”
Heath: *sigh* “And you, sir, what unique angle might you bring to Cryo Chamber?”
Contestant 3: “I play a trumpet.”
Heath: “Ooh, do tell!”

I wouldn’t go so far as to say the trumpet is Phonothek’s defining characteristic, but it’s certainly the first time I’ve heard it so prominently used in a dark ambient project. From what I gather, there’s a whole sub-set of ‘industrial jazz’ or ‘doom jazz’ out there, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. Jazz musicians gotta’ try every form of genre fusion they can.

Phonothek is primarily the brainchild of George from Georgia (oddly, I can’t find a last name for him), with a musical assist from his wife Nina. He has an orchestral background, and while the trumpet is his main sonic weapon of choice, he doesn’t rely on it, only half the tracks on this debut album of Lost In Fog making significant use of it. For the most part, Phonothek does the modern classical thing with ample instrumentation and digital manipulations, but in a loose, freeform, jazzy sort of way. This makes it quite the fun headphone album (those ping-pong sounds!), though a 5.1 system should do you fine in a pinch.

There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme with Lost In Fog other than weird, abstract music making for its own sake. When the trumpet playing does lead (Heavy Thoughts, Old Swings, Lost In Fog), it creates a melancholic mood, almost right out of a noir film. Some tracks use discordant strings or sampled voices to create unease (Last Train), sometimes it’s traditional piano (Dancing With The Ghosts), others chopping up synth pad and droning passages such that they seemingly play out of sync, yet flow together regardless (Something Happened). Meanwhile, Clown Is Dead goes from creepy to forlorn to positively strident with its ethereal marching. Yes, Phonothek has made ‘ethereal marching’ a thing, though wasn’t that Dead Can Dance’s thing too?

Jean-Michel Jarre - Equinoxe

Disques Dreyfus/BMG: 1978/2014

Despite being a solid follow-up to Jarre’s synth-wizardry debut Oxygene, Equinoxe remains overshadowed by its elder sibling. Like, why hasn’t Jarre’s sophomore earned itself a spiffy New Master Recording? Or a conceptual return three volumes deep? Not to mention the oodles of EP re-releases, usually coinciding with a greatest hits package. And while a couple tracks from Equinoxe often make the cut on such compilations, Oxygene dominates the selection process.

Part of this has to do with the fact Equinoxe pretty much is a continuation of ideas and sounds already explored in Oxygene - and as we all know, it’s primarily the First of something that gets all the attention. As Jean-Michel’s career carried on through the decades, it was marked by several other significant moments that took up space in your standard Cliff’s Notes recaps: the mega-concerts, the switch to digital from analog, the switch back to analog from digital, the on-again off-again relationship with club culture, etc. With so many talking points to touch upon, its unsurprising discussion of ‘the album that came after Oxygene’ isn’t the highest priority.

But important it is. Not Very Important, mind you, but important enough in that Jarre had to prove Oxygene wasn’t some fluke of creative serendipity. Given the nearly unprecedented global success of his debut in the world of synth music (no, we will not include Deserted Palace in this discussion, ever), fan and foe were eager to hear what he’d come out with next. Could he replicate that magical blend of modern classical artfulness while keeping an ear tuned with pop sensibilities? Might he go more abstract as a creative challenge? Or totally sell out with some disco pop, as was the happenin’ thing to do at the time? A little of each, turns out.

For sure Jarre has another long-player concept in mind for Equinoxe, this time of the dawn-to-dusk journey of Mankind. Right, that’s one Hell of a vague descriptor, though listening through this album, I can hear what Jean-Michel was shooting for. The first two tracks (Part 1 and Part 2) call upon his classical music knowledge, the first more a grand opening, the second a somber, mysterious reflective piece. Things get peppier in Part 3, building up to the centerpiece of the album in Part 4. It’s got a strident rhythm, sweeping synth strings, a hooky refrain, key changes, and lots of plinky sounds, burbling proto-acid…the usual assortment of Jarre treatments. Is it better than Oxygene? Does it matter? I think it’s cool, isn’t that enough?

Part 5 and Part 6 are even brisker than Part 4, though clearly treading into synth-pop’s territory. Part 7’s where it’s at though, tying everything together in a tidy, tasty sonic bow. Would have made for a perfect end to Equinoxe, but Jarre decides a little indulgence is in order, Part 8 running through some French pop silliness, then going full modern classical again for an outro. Ah, why not; I’ll allow it. ‘Tis fun.

Synergy - Electronic Realizations For Rock Orchestra

Passport Records/Third Contact: 1975/2013

For a while, I figured the reason Larry Fast’s Synergy project never got the same buzz as his ‘70s synth contemporaries was due to his being American. All the biggest names in this high-concept, technical-wizardry scene hailed from Europe, where pushing the boundaries of Art was accepted, encouraged, and applauded by the music press. Meanwhile, in America, folks were still clinging to that good ol’ rock ‘n’ roll music, whether it be AM radio soft jams, funk fusions, or that punky stuff brewing in the East coast. While I can’t claim everyone in the U.S. of A. was anti-synthesizer, it certainly wasn’t as popular an instrument compared to elsewhere in the world, to say nothing of those who made extravagant compositions consisting of this cutting-edge hardware. So of course poor Larry Fast would be ignored in his home country, no matter how pioneering his works might have been.

Then I realized the truth of the matter is a lot simpler. It’s not that Fast was overlooked despite being among the earliest American adopters of pure synth music, it’s just that he wasn’t the first. Nay, that distinction goes to none other than Wendy Carlos, beating Fast to the game by several years. You can give ol’ Larry plenty of plaudits for taking up the mantle of American modern classical musicians when there still weren’t many around, but the country only cares about who got there before everyone else. No exceptions.

Speaking of firsts, here’s the debut Synergy album, Electronic Realizations For Rock Orchestra, about as egg-headed a title as you could get in the ‘70s. Fortunately, it’s something of a piss-take on the growing fad of prog-rock bands going full opera with their endeavors, especially those who ironically claimed being above all that (hi, Queen!).

The record consists of three pieces that break the ten-minute mark, and two shorter ones hover about six minutes. The opener, Legacy was even featured in the Cosmos soundtrack, and for the longest time, I never made the connection it was the same Synergy that would go on to do Cords and The Jupiter Menace. Even longer, I didn’t realize that particular composition featured on his debut either, not until I actually bought this and threw the CD on. Felt mighty sheepish being thrown for a loop hearing those cascading synths right off, you bet’cha. There’s just not much in the way of Synergy documentaries.

Slaughter On Tenth Avenue is a spiffy cover of the Richard Rodgers ballet, part of a Broadway musical. Makes sense that, while Tomita was doing classical covers, Fast would tackle something a little more American. Final track Warriors goes full modern classical in its composition, perhaps a tad twee in doing so, but sounds great if you dig your closing credit sequences in SNES-era jRPGs. The shorter pieces sound more like Fast showing off his technical skill on these cumbersome keyboards, which was just the thing to do at the time. Ask Rick Wakeman about it.

Tosca - Dehli9

Studio !K7: 2003

It shouldn’t have taken this long to finally nab myself a Tosca album. For sure I’ve gathered a few tracks over the years, mostly found on compilations showcasing dubby, downtempo tunes with a light jazz inflection. Theirs is a sound that finds a cool middle-ground between ambient dub of Sounds From The Ground, and ethnic-infused lounge-hop of Thievery Corporation. As you’d expect when one-half of the immortal downtempo duo Kruder & Dorfmeister is involved, though it surprises me Richard’s work with Rupert Huber doesn’t get near as much fame as his work with Peter. He’s worked with both for about the same amount of time, Tosca forming in the mid-‘90s. And while the K&D sessions gave Dorfmeister plenty of plaudits, it’s his work alongside Mr. Huber that continues to this day, at least ten albums deep into a two-decade long partnership, not to mention oodles of ‘dub version’ albums. For all intents, this should be the Dorfmeister project that everyone gushes over, but man, that The K&D Sessions™, eh?

Dehli9 is Tosca’s third LP, which I grabbed because it was the first return in an Amazon search. Yeah, can’t claim doing much research into the duo’s ‘Essential Albums’ list, going in with arms out, ears open, and expectations unsullied by other people’s opinions. Which I guess makes me a tad contradictory, if you’re reading this for my opinion before indulging Dehli9 yourself. Really, I just assume it’s searches for confirmation bias that lures folks into reading reviews anymore, though maybe a little exploration outside comfort zones factors into it too – also, quips aplenty!

I actually knew at least one track off here, the jazzy reggae tune Gute Laune, appearing on the Studio !K7 celebratory showcase compilation !K7150. Heck, that song alone helped clue me into getting off my duffer and check out this other Dorfmeister project, despite how long it took me getting around to it. Much of Dehli9 plays to this sound, which tends to be the Tosca style regardless. Tracks like Me & Yoko Ono and Every Day & Every Night go more for a dubby trip-hop vibe, whereas jazzy deep house feature on tunes like Rolf Royce, Spert, La Vendeuse Des Chaussures Des Femmes Part 1, and lead single Wonderful. And we can’t forget some Latin-fusion for good measure (Oscar, Dave Dudley), plus whatever form of jazz-hop is going on in Mango Di Bango, because why not.

Dehli9 is a fine downtempo album, classy as it needs to be, though admittedly keeping an even keel where this music is concerned – you can find this sound on oodles of compilations throughout the ‘00s. Tosca sweetens the deal then, with a second CD of piano pieces, apparently all based on a book Huber wrote called 12 Easy To Play Piano Pieces. These are all very much in the minimalist modern classical mold, though with just enough ambient treatment they’re distinct from much piano music out there. Unless you’re well versed in the works of Harold Budd, anyway.

Klaus Schulze & Pete Namlook - The Dark Side Of The Moog VIII

Fax +49-69/450464/MIG: 1999/2016

This series wasn’t the only instance of Misters Schulze and Kuhlmann collaborating, Namlook also lending a hand on Klaus’ 1996 album Are You Sequenced. Essentially Schulze’s stab at updating his sound, the album was met with plaudits from his long-standing followers, and indifferent snickers from actual techno dorks. So it goes, but for the purpose of showcasing everything he and Pete worked together on, we get a few tracks from that record included as a bonus CD of the second box set in this reissue extravaganza. SQ 1 runs seventeen minutes, doing the trancey space-synth stuff we’ve heard elsewhere on Dark Side Of The Moog, Namlook provides a pulsing Chill Mix for Voices In The Dark, while SQ 4 goes full classic trance – why only the Short Cut though? In any event, this is a perfectly fine bonus disc, and thankfully wasn’t another reissue of a prior album, because I’ve been at these Dark Side Of The Moogs long enough, eh?

And so it’s come to this: my final entry into the epic Klaus-Pete saga. Unless I spring for the third box set, but nay, I’m not in any hurry for that. Or maybe so, if Dark Side Of The Moog VIII is an indicator of things to come. Stretching that “this series are ‘90s TV seasons!” analogy further, Season 8 of most shows often feature a radical twist or ratings stunt to shake up the status quo, and this album comes through once again. For you see, my friends, th’ar be d’n’b in here!

But first, a twenty-five minute opener of psy dub, world beat, and cosmic music. Wait, are we certain Bill Laswell’s no longer around? Other parts of Careful With The AKS, Peter feature short sound-effect doodles (Part II), straight-up psy dub freak-outs (Part IV), throwback modern classical (Part III, Part V, Part VIII), and one Hell of a techno stomper in fifteen-minute long Part VI. Throw in some wailing synth solos (or is that a guitar?) that would have Steve Hillage weak in the knees, and call me flabbergasted we’re still dealing with a two-man party of Schulze and Namlook. And that’s before they start dropping drillin’ Amen Breaks in Part VII! Seriously, jungle is the last thing I’d ever expect these guys taking on – hardcore is a less daft notion, given their proximity to German hard dance – yet here we are, eight album deep in the series, actual freewheelin’ d’n’b on the CD, and sounding not a touch out of place. This, from a Fax+ release? Astounding! Or a ‘shark jumping’ moment if you’re brutal cynical, but I like Part VIII too much to care about scene purity.

And that about wraps up our week-plus long journey to the Dark Side Of The Moog. From here, the two would collaborate less frequently, reconvening every few years for another studio session, plus a couple live shows too. After Namlook’s untimely death though, that was all she wrote for the longest running series in Fax+’ legacy.