Harold Budd - Abandoned Cities

Cantil/All Saints: 1984/2018

We're not done with the Buddster just yet. The Budd Box contains six of his albums, and I've only covered four of them now. As is clear, he's titled his works all over the alphabet, from the dizzying highs of the 'A's and 'B's, to the decrepit lows of the 'W's and 'V's. Okay, not 'V's, but it don't rhyme otherwise, and like Hell I'm gonna' betray my Canadian heritage in saying anything other than 'zed', eh.

Abandoned Cities was the follow-up to The Serpent (In Quicksilver), and couldn't be more different from that record if ol' Harold tried. In fact, this is almost nothing like anything he'd released prior. And though I've hardly taken in much of his post-'80s work, I can't imagine many pieces in his archives quite like this either. For you see, my friends, Mr. Budd took it upon himself to do something nearly all ambient musicians do: the twenty-minute long composition!

True ultra-lengthy ambient compositions were hardly a new thing by the mid-'80s. Brain Eno's 1/1, the very first ambient track was sixteen and a half minutes long, not to mention- What? Of course 1/1 was the first ambient track. How is that even a debate? It's literally the first track on the first album with the title of Ambient in it! *does a soft-shoe off to Stage Right*

Anyhow, while ambient producers and minimalist Berlin-Schoolers were all about the long-form dronescapes, Budd typically kept his pieces short and to the point, seldom breaching the double-digit domain. Not with Abandoned Cities though, a mere two tracks long, the titular cut a whopping twenty-three in total. And moody, oh my is it ever a moody piece. Like, I get that calling a composition of music Abandoned Cities creates a sense of emptiness and desolation, forlorn thoughts of what once was and is now lost. That omnipresent synth drone though, sounding like a suffocating blanket of darkness and depression, such that Budd's usual gentle piano tones have difficulty piercing the murk. Even those, so often tranquil and introspective in his other works, can't help but ooze melancholy in their surroundings. This is about as 'dark ambient' as I'm sure Budd's ever gone, though still feels more at home in the 'modern classical' domain, befitting an art gallery of derelict husks slowly eroding in vacant urban settings.

If that seems just a tad on the “Hey, you okay, bro'?” side of things, then get a load of the first track on here, Dark Star. As depressive as Abandoned Cities is, at least it still had a thread of humanity in it, Budd's piano a comforting, familiar companion. There's no such instrument in play here though, Harold's trademark gentle touches on the keys replaced with stark synth stabs, stripping out all traces of human soul in the process. Oh, what a tantalizing 'what if' this piece proposes, Harold Budd doing dark ambient for the remain of his career. Might still have worked in that Cocteau Twins collaboration too.

Harold Budd - The White Arcades

Opal Records/All Saints: 1988/2018

I've noticed some folks pointing to this particular album as the point Harold Budd broke out from being thought of as just 'that guy who provides piano on Brian Eno's ambient', which is funny since Brian Eno produced this album. I get where they're coming from though, Harold's most prominent records prior to this still his Eno collaborations (Ambient 2: The Plateaux Of Mirrors and The Pearl). He'd released at least a half-dozen other LPs in that time, but remained rather obscure compared to those – forced to basically self-release some of them didn't help Budd's efforts in getting noticed outside Eno's shadow.

Still, Harold found other musicians to work with throughout his budding '80s career, including the folks over in the Cocteau Twins camp. He even made an album with them, The Moon And The Melodies, though for some reason, it wasn't credited as an album with the Cocteau Twins. Rather, each member of the band was credited separately, as though they were musicians on par with Harold Budd in this particular recording session. Odd, is all I'm saying, though it did give Mr. Budd access to their studio for future projects, plus a little extra bump of prestige beyond the ambient art world.

The effects of that collaboration could definitely be felt in Lovely Thunder, released the same year as The Moon And The Melody, and might have even been included in this Budd Box, if it had been out on a different label. But nay, the purpose of this set was to round up Harold's albums on minor prints, from which the follow-up to that was The White Arcades, released on Opal Records. In fact, it was among the print's launching releases, established by, of course, Brian Eno. Well, something had to take the place of the defunct Editions EG. Again, it just seems odd seeing folks pointing here as Harold's major turning point outside Eno's influence with so much of Brian's hand still in the pot.

What I think is meant is that The White Arcades is a handy summation of what Budd was doing throughout the '80s, a nice capper on a decade's worth of music making. For sure it's got the gentle piano tones about, but moody, atmospheric pad work with modern classical flourishes too. Yeah, we're still in the era when ambient was still mostly abstract art music, so you wouldn't imagine this stuff being out of place in museum galleries or the like, but it's also quite nice and soothing and relaxing to hear too. We're still a year or two off from when the scene would take a sharp turn towards the ravey-psychedelic stuff.

The White Arcades might be among Harold Budd's best solo albums of the '80s, but as I've already talked about so many of his albums from that period, I'm not left with much else to say than that. You should know what to expect from a Budd joint by now, and this record delivers it wonderfully.

Daniel Pemberton - Space Dive

fsoldigital.com: 2012

I should have expected this, but for some reason, upon seeing the cover art, an alternate version of Space Dive lodged itself into my brain, leading me to believe that was what I was gonna' hear. One of pure conceptual space-age ambient noodling, like AstroPilot's Solar Walk series, filled with actual radio chatter samples between Felix Baumgartner and Red Bull ground control. That it came out on The Future Sound Of London's digital label, the last place I'd expect to find a National Geographic documentary soundtrack, is my only excuse for coming to such a premature conclusion. How did this end up on fsoldigital anyhow?

Easy answer, that. Daniel Pemberton often works with Brian Dougans and Garry Cobain, especially contributing to their Environments series. I'm not sure how far back their collaborations officially goes – at least The Isness - but it's possible Daniel was hanging around the FSOL boys since even the Dead Cities period. Thus, it makes sense they'd let him use their label for releases slightly outside traditional chains. Oh, and Pemberton made his (teenaged!) debut on Fax +49-69/450464, which means that, yes, he too was included in the inimitable, ineluctable Die Welt Ist Klang Pete Namlook tribute box-set. Just throwing that out there.

But yes, Daniel's career arc this century has primarily been in the realm of score work, starting out doing TV spots and documentaries before getting the nod for major movies. What movies, you ask? Oh, just a little critical darling called Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse, to name one. Also, um, King Arthur: Legend Of The Sword. Still, a resume that includes Steve Jobs and Ocean's 8 ain't too shabby. Dude knows his way around providing audio stimuli for visual entertainment, is what I'm saying.

And I can only assume his work for Space Dive is exemplary of a one hour documentary covering Felix's freefall from the outer reaches of our atmosphere because, um, I haven't seen it. I tried to find it, but it's not on Amazon Prime (.ca), not on YouTube, and I don't really care enough about it to drop paywall money to see it (sorry, Nat Geo). I'm sure it's like most modern documentaries anyway: a lot of dawdling and faux-tension building leading up to the main event, presented after seven commercial breaks. I remember the live stream just fine, thanks.

Musically, Space Dive sounds like most modern documentary scores as well, with the subdued orchestras and pounding percussion sections (he's Going Supersonic, yo'!), light synth touches, and such as. Little of it leaps out as distinct pieces of music, which is exactly what you should want in a soundtrack like this. I can say, despite having no visual accompaniment, a few pieces do a good job of making me feel connected to the emotions Felix must have been going through (Freefall, To The Edge Of Space, The Jump). I still can't recommend Space Dive for anyone other than Daniel Pemberton completists though. Surely there's a few out there.

Harold Budd - The Serpent (In Quicksilver)

Cantil/All Saints: 1981/2018

Harold Budd had made his proper debut with the well-received The Pavilion Of Dreams, which Brian Eno produced. Following that, they teamed up for the second entry into Eno's seminal Ambient series, The Plateaux Of Mirror. Being such a prominent figure of ambient's early years surely yielded many opportunities for the Buddian one, if not for the fact that scene was barely existent yet. Sure, you had the synth noodlings of the Berlin-Schoolers, and the electronic experimenting of the soundtrackers, but Eno and Budd's brand of abstract art music remained a super-niche side of ambient's emergent sound, especially Harold's classical approach to playing the ol' ivories.

Basically, despite having his name associated with a trendy tastemaker, Budd was still left without any sort of record deal for his own musical explorations. He thus did what many a genre-niche artist is forced to do: create his own print to self-release his albums. Eh, why didn't Eno just help Budd along with on his label? If I was to hazard a guess, it was either because Eno was between labels himself (Obscure, where Pavilion Of Dreams had come out on, folded before the '80s), or Budd wanted to release something without Eno's ambient treatments prominently involved, letting his own muse speak for itself. Neither would surprise me.

Whatever the case, Cantil was the result of Budd going into label business for himself, with The Serpent (In Quicksilver) being its first release. Um, out of three, according to Lord Discogs. Guess becoming a record mogul just wasn't in Budd's blood, but at least he got his records out.

And if setting up your own print to release your own music in the early '80s doesn't sound like a punk enterprise to you, then the production of The Serpent (In Quicksilver) sure will. If there was anything Budd took from his time working with Eno, it was realizing he could accomplish more making use of a studio than just recording some piano pieces and calling it a day. Unfortunately, ol' Harold didn't have the greatest connections in California at that point in his career, so he wandered from studio to studio, recording bits and pieces wherever he could, whenever he could. The almost renegade approach to crafting this album helps explain why it's so short, a mere six tracks long, half of which hover around the two-minute mark. Heck, the longest is a shade over five minutes, which may as well be a radio jingle where either ambient or modern classical is concerned.

So the short running time may be a turnoff for some, but let's be honest: the moment you hear that sliding pedal guitar opening in Afar, there's really almost no where else to go but down; or up, to a higher state of peace. Like, I'm not saying The KLF nicked the idea of a pedal guitar making perfect sense in the context of ambient music, but I'd like to hear of an earlier example of it than The Serpent.

ACE TRACKS: June 2019

So apparently all the original Final Fantasy soundtracks have made their way to Spotify. That's... really f'n awesome! Along with Dragon Quest, that franchise has been responsible for some of my all-time favourite video game scores, to such a degree I went out of my way to actually import Final Fantasy VII direct from Japan. Back in the '90s. From the internet. When I was still a teenager. Okay, technically it was my dad that put his credit card into the wild west of the old web, and was he ever questioning my birthday request back when, believe you me. Hell, I think it had to be ordered from a Japanese retailer, Amazon still barely a thing beyond a massive book store. These were the efforts one[s folks] had to do to get their jRPG vgm fixes. To say nothing of nabbing myself a copy of the holy grail of Final Fantasy scores, Final Fantasy VI. Oh, there was an ad for it in the SNES package (along with Secret Of Mana), three CDs of peak 16-bit musical perfection, but no way I'd get to snag me a copy of that along the way (much less pay an over-inflated collector's market import price).

But now they're all available on Spotify for me to enjoy to my heart's content. Not to mention update my Ultimate Master List with the appropriate tracks, no longer needing to rely on 'Local Files' for the task. Though it's funny that of all the scores I've checked out, it's the thirty-second loops of Final Fantasy I I've probably indulged the most now. Meanwhile, here's the ACE TRACKS for June 2019:


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - Hed Kandi The Mix: Summer 2004
Anatolya - Mirror Messages
SiJ - The Lost World
B°TONG - The Long Journey
Curve - Cuckoo
Sghor - Le Grand Mystère
Specta Ciera & The Circular Ruins - Mnemosyne

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: Nothing at all. Unless the concept of 'contemporary trance' throws you for a loop.

Compared to the cluster-foo that was last month's playlist, this one is remarkably consistent throughout. Probably helps everything comes in nice little chunks, a little house or techno/trance followed by some downtime, then moving back to the uptempo stuff. Probably also helps that the huge amount of ambient I did cover last month just wasn't available in Spotify. Makes for a shorter playlist (under three hours), but eh, as GZA once said: “Half short, twice strong.”

Harold Budd, Daniel Lentz, Ruben Garcia - Music For 3 Pianos

All Saints: 1992/2018

Whoa, I wrapped up that last batch of 'L' albums with a Harold Budd release, and now I'm wrapping up the 'M's with another of his. Does this mean the start of a trend, where each batch of letters will feature an item from that Budd Box bundle? Ah, no. Just a total coincidence. Besides, even if Budd's lone 'N' album was in this collection (too recent a release to qualify for the Budd Box), Nighthawks wouldn't even be at the end of the upcoming batch, three more CDs coming after that particular position in my alphabetical queue. Eh? Which albums might those be? Oh, something old, something new, something now now.

With a tidy amount of word count now burnt, I can reasonably do a tidy little review of this tidy little album from Harold Budd, Music For 3 Pianos. Well, not sure I can call this an LP-album, barely over twenty minutes in length. What's remarkable is this isn't the shortest 'album' in this box set, the earlier The Serpent (In Quicksilver) not even reaching that 'lofty' length.

While ol' Harold had no problem playing the piano on his own, he wasn't averse to adding fellow musicians into the mix. The obvious pairing was with Brian Eno, which immensely helped his profile among the niche market he already existed in. Along the way he paired with the Cocteau Twins in The Moon And The Melodies, but it wasn't until Music For 3 Pianos that Mr. Budd would truly unleash the collaborative floodgates forever after. Joining him on this venture was Daniel Lentz and Ruben Garcia. Lentz was a composer of some note through the '70s and '80s, though save his album Missa Umbrarum, quite opulent compared to the minimalist lane Budd usually traversed in. Garcia seems to have been a relative unknown compared to the others, this album his first Discoggian entry. He released a few more items after this, mostly obscure self-released ambient affairs, though did pair up with Budd on a few more albums before his passing half a decade ago. We got the instruments set up, the players involved introduced. Time to hear us some three pianist action, yo'! (stop sniggering, you)

And it's... surprisingly bare. Like, I should have expected it from a Harold Budd joint, but for some reason, I figured three players would involve more dynamic interplay, maybe on a jazz tip. Instead, it seems like more a 'call-and-response' thing going on, one player offering sparse tones while another adds their interaction, all the while allowing enough space between that you couldn't interpret this as anything other than Harold Budd doing Harold Budd th'angs. And I'm admittedly no expert on the intricacies of piano interplay, but isn't there supposed to be a third member here? I honestly can't tell.

Music For 3 Pianos is certainly pleasant in its presentation, but I can't deny being a little let down by what I was expecting, even for a Harold Budd album.

Anatolya - Mirror Messages

Unknown Tone Records: 2016

Oh, why couldn't have this been my first Unknown Tone Records album to review? Then I could have killed off the obligatory word salad of background info here instead of Twincities' CD. At least there, I had some additional artist information to dig deeper on if I so chose. This Anatolya though, he's a giant ol' Discoggian blank, Mirror Messages his lone entry, save a single track contributed to the Unknown Tone compilation Vol. IV. At least the liner notes tells me the artist behind Anatolya is Brian Phillips, and hails from the Florida region. Not much else beyond that though. The Bandcamp page does send me to a link of his other artistic endeavours, including paintings, video, and sculpturing. It all looks bleak and macabre and very dark ambient, which makes me wonder how he wound up on Unknown Tone in the first place? Are there other morose music makers on the label I'm not aware of? That album titled Stay Out Long Enough And The Night Becomes Your Home from Lost Trail seems rather dark and gothic.

Anatolya though, I've almost nothing to work with, beyond the music itself. And I'll be honest, when I heard the opening harsh drone of Before You Were Born, I thought I was in for one of those experiences. Where the playing of a full LP is more an endurance test of sensory overload than letting oneself be lost in the vibe the artist has crafted. It's certainly effective in setting a discordant tone, the sort of sound you'd expect from the opening credits of a mind-breaking art-house film. Did I really want to hear such a thing on this nice summer day though? Heck, even in the bleakest of winter?

Fortunately, things turn to the moodier side of dark drone after, with creepy sounds and disembodied voices floating about a murky timbre. And gosh, The Nomad Flute actually feels a tad welcoming, in a warbly melancholy sort of way. Elsewhere, John Fire Lame Deer shows Mr. Phillips has a lighter side to his muse, even if its chipper piano melody remains buried in sludgy synth. Punctum finds him getting his experimental side on (such stretched oscillations), while In The Window and Lotophagi do the crackly minimalist ambient thing that jives with much of what I've heard from Unknown Tone's catalogue – there had to be a connection somewhere! It was almost enough to lull me into a sense of calm that I almost forgot just how confrontational the opening track was, but closer Eukurai reminds me that Mirror Messages had its fingers in the dark ambient side of things for most of its runtime.

So an interesting little album from Anatolya... Anatolya... Why does that name seem so familiar? Let me check something. *click-clack clickity-clack-clack ...BASS!* Oh, Anatolia, as in the Anatolia Peninsula. Y'know, watching a bunch of King & Generals videos will get certain locations stuck in your head something fierce. Lot of history in that region, believe you me.

Harold Budd - Luxa

All Saints: 1996/2018

So I got myself a box of Budd. I was stunned to discover such a thing existed, and kinda' relieved too. There's just so much Budd to sample out there now, different flavours for different moods, such that one can get lost figuring out where to begin. And yeah, I've sampled a little Budd in the past, toked on the obvious flavours as cultivated by Brian Eno. There's so much more in Budd's bowl than The Pearl and Ambient 2 (The Plateaux Of Mirror) though. Sure, I'll find myself in familiar territory of calm, soothing haze of pleasant piano tones no matter which album I dab on, but surely there's a bluffer's guide of his various musical crops. Indeed there is, the Budd Box, with six albums from his first fifteen years of releases. Yeah, that's but a third of Budd's total output in that time-frame, but as I said, I'm after a bluffer's guide, not a compendium.

By alphabetical decree, the first album I'm reviewing in the Budd Box is Luxa, which also happens to be the last album in the Budd Box. Or rather, the most recent, released in the near-times of 1996. Considering this box-set was initially released in 2013, it seems funny that the Budd Box only went that far into his discography. No interest in any of his post-Millennium material? Though considering there isn't a detailed Wiki entry for Luxa, it's fair to say even his more well-known works retain but a niche audience to this day.

I do wish there was a Wiki for Luxa though, in that this is an odd-ball album, and I'd love to have more background info on it. Harold himself calls it a “decorative thing”, in that it's him exploring different facets of his various musical backgrounds, in that artsy sort of way you'd expect of a student of the minimalist avant-garde.

Thus we get four segments in Luxa, the first of which is titled Butterflies With Tits - I think that's the title of the cover-art too. The longest segment, it features pieces titled after various artists in various fields (Agnes Martin, Serge Polakoff, Paul McCarthy, Anish Kapoor... you may have heard of some of them), and touches on the various keyboard tones Mr. Budd had since incorporated into his repertoire. It ain't just 'soft pedal' pianos, yo'! There's moody pads, flowing synths, and even some light jazzy percussion too.

Following that is the ultra-short Inexact Shadows segment, three short piano pieces that you'd probably think was one, single, two-fifteen minute composition. Smoke Trees, on the other hand, gets into the pure ambient side of Budd's muse, long drawn-out pieces noodling about in a calm, abstract manner, a little light percussion joining the pads and organ tones every so often. The final segment, Laughing Innuendos, features a weird contrast between its two pieces, Marion Brown doing the modern classical piano thing, and Steven Brown doing a ...piercing organ thing? Gosh, that tone almost sounds 16-bit. Oddly familiar, that.

SiJ - The Lost World

Reverse Alignment: 2015

See? See!? I knew there was SiJ in this endless backlog bundle (I've been at since March and I'm only in the 'L's, OMG!). It wasn't some flight of fanciful delusion that I somehow skipped out on the specific artist I raided Reverse Alignment for. Okay, no one doubted my proclamation of innocence in that Ajna review, because few would even care. I cared though, if for no other reason than to confirm my own fraying memories. I had to have scoured for SiJ, because I recall doing so. It couldn't be a figment of my imagination, could it? Like, one of those realistically mundane dreams you're so certain happened it becomes a permanent memory? The cruellest of such dreams I've had are the ones I've unearthed a trove of unreleased Calvin & Hobbes comics. Yes, it's been a recurrent one.

Thing about SiJ is one can be a tad flummoxed over where to start on his discography. Dude's nearly up to fifty releases this past decade, and while I'm sure a good deal of it is just drone experiments, there's bound to be plenty more that's not. Like, did you know he did a cover of Terra? As in, the theme music for Final Fantasy VI Terra? I sure didn't until I did a little poking around his Bandcamp page, and lo', there it was, his interpretation of one of the most lush compositions ever cranked out of the old SNES. Who'd have ever thought a guy appearing on Cryo Chamber would have a Nobuo Uematsu cover in his catalogue. Actually, come to think of it, that 'World Of Ruin' music would work quite nicely in a dark ambient context too.

Speaking of worlds, here is The Lost World. And yes, this is a specific tribute to the Conan Doyle novel, wherein a plateau within the Amazon jungle holds prehistoric creatures. Not to be confused with The Land That Time Forgot, the Edgar Rice Burroughs novel released almost concurrently about an Antarctica realm that holds prehistoric creatures. It was a popular sci-fi idea in the early 20th Century, usually featuring someone getting eaten by a Pleisiosaur, running from cavemen, and a volcano erupting. Heck, even Mickey Mouse had an adventure like that, which was weird considering the cavemen were actual pre-humans in a world of anthropomorphic animals. I've gotten way off track.

What caught me most off guard about SiJ's The Lost World is his inclusion of actual tribal rhythms in the titular cut, Night Near The Shores Of Gladys Lake, and A Fright Sight I Shall Never Forget. It's the most rhythm I've ever heard out of a SiJ album, and makes for welcome thematic variety with the other atmospheric drone pieces he crafts here (always with that distinct fuzzy melancholy). Then it all ends on a total whiplash of an under-produced tropical ditty called At The Falls. Well, under-produced compared to the deep atmospherics of what came before - almost comes off 16-bit in contrast. Say...

The Circular Ruins and Mystified - Fantastic Journey

dataObscura: 2013

As I said, you can't go three CDs into dataObscura's discography without bumping into Anthony Kerby. As it should be, since it's his print and all. I don't know enough about the man's history to gauge whether The Circular Ruins or Nunc Stans is his primary outlet though, as they both have comparable numbers; nor have I listened to enough to gauge what differentiates each project from the other. As mentioned in my initial introduction to Mr. Kerby, he has quite the extensive catalog of music.

And yet, he may pale compared to the chap he's collaborating with on this particular release, minimalist dark-drone auteur Thomas Park. This Mystified handle lists over three-hundred releases alone with Lord Discogs, and you can add a hundred more including his various other projects. Most of this was accomplished within the past fifteen years, with items out on labels such as Treetrunk Records, Latex Records, Mbira Records, Webbed Hand Records, Enough Records, Phage Tapes, First Fallen Star, Bone Structure, We Are All Ghosts, Smell The Stench, and DumpsterScore. I'm sensing a theme here.

Anyhow, Park had worked with Kerby before, on a Nunc Stans album, so given their relentless work-rate, it makes sense they'd reconvene for another project – law of averages, and all that. This time though, they had a very specific concept in mind, and if the cover art or title wasn't a dead giveaway, you'd better turn in whatever nerd cred you thought you had. This some old school sci-fi stuff, my friends. Though I do have to ask, is that the official design of Captain Nemo's Nautilus, or just the Disney movie version? Or was the Disney model faithful to the original design? Lots of conflicting GIS returns on the matter.

While this isn't strictly a Jules Verne love-in, his works are certainly a heavy inspiration. There's also nods to other retro sci-fi outings like Forbidden Planet, and Star Trek (man, that's a deep dive with Beyond The Farthest Star), with music that befits the score of any of those properties. Naturally, opener Twenty Thousand Leagues works the cavernous dub drone as minimalist pads pierce the layers of sonic murk, all the while light tones flicker by like spritely jellyfish floating past your submersible. The World Beneath features the sort of minimalist musique concrete sounds as found in the actual 'score' for Forbidden Planet, while the track Forbidden Planet features creepy, pulsing synth sounds and drones. Meanwhile, Mysterious Island edges closer to the domain of modern classical synth drone (melody!), while Beyond The Farthest Star has something a more empty and spaced-out in mind. No matter where we go in these fantastic journeys though, we must all eventually take The Voyage Home, the final track almost melancholic in its use of orchestral strings, synth drones, and distant mechanical breaths.

Fantastic Journey isn't an essential listen – too much dawdle for long stretches – but I cannot deny coming away from it feeling like I've seen things you wouldn't believe.

Nunc Stans - Elementa

dataObscura: 2016

Lord Discogs lists dataObscura a spin-off from Databloem, and it appears the chap who got the spin started was Anthony Paul Kerby. I'm reviewing his Nunc Stans project in particular here, but he's released material as The Circular Ruins and Lammergeyer as well, with dataObscura his main label of output. He still pops in with occasional releases with daddy Databloem, plus the odd item elsewhere (Construct, Musical Philosophy, ping things), but by and large, this is his home. And hoo, has he kept it stuffed, Nunc Stans alone providing the dataObscura discography with sixteen releases. Meanwhile, The Circular Ruins is featured with fourteen releases on this print, and Lammergeyer adding eight more releases to the label's catalogue. And let's not forget Anthony's collaboration with Robert Davies as The Winterhouse, providing an additional eight albums more (speaking of Robert Davies, hoo boy, is that ever a discography as well).

If you've been keeping count, this all adds up to a shit-tonne of music from Anthony Kerby over the past two decades. How can I do any of this man's work justice by diving nearly blind into this one particular album I only got because the cover art intrigued me? Probably can't, but as I have picked up a few more of his releases in a recent Databloem/dataObscura splurge, I should gain at least some insight into where his muse wanders in no time.

For now, I have the cold opening of Elementa, a generally minimalist, modern classical drone outing. Not so frigid as the mountain peak would lead you to believe, though imparting a sense of desolate grandeur just the same, as strings and synths carry on in layers of timbre that are at once dense, yet distinct. It doesn't leave much room for melody, making such harmonic moments all the more poignant between the atonal movements (to say nothing of the sparse percussion occasionally piercing the thick musical atmosphere).

Does Elementa ever take its time in getting to where it's going, though. By the album's end, it almost sounds as though a veil has been lifted, a misty fog once obscuring the scenery revealing just how much splendour surrounds you, though you must suffer through some early impenetrable murk to arrive there. It's certainly a 'rewards repeated listens' type of album, but when it takes three tracks to feel like you're making any musical progress, it can be challenging sticking through the duration without the mind wandering.

And that got me thinking about other drone ambient albums I've listened to, and what makes some stand out more than others. As with so much music presented in an LP format, those opening moments are critical in hooking you in, something catching your attention just enough that it lingers in your memory, hinting at similar ideas or themes await. It's a subtle thing, but I think necessary for albums like this to leave a lasting impression. Instead, Elementa has some intriguing moments, but doesn't retain much after.

The Angling Loser - Arena Of Apprehension

...txt: 2016

That's another Lee Norris project ticked off the list. Yet, I'm still barely half-way through 'em all, and who knows if I'll ever find a copy of Orphic Signals' Sounds Of The Neutron, or Tone Language's Patience Is the Key.This one's a little more involved than just another pairing with a producer for a singular jam session though. Nay, The Angling Loser is a conglomerate of musicians Lee happens to know and are all over for a jam. Sir Cliff is here! Porya Hatami is here! Shintaro Aoki is here! Martin Hirsch is here! Wil Bolton is here! Or might be here, depending on the album. Maybe they only all appeared in the first 2013 album, Author Of The Twilight, because I don't see all those names in Arena Of Apprehension's liner notes. Eh, who are all these names? Oh c'mon, I've reviewed a couple of them already. Porya for sure. Uh... Bolton, maybe? No? Hmm.

Anyway, that initial session must have worked out well enough for most of the players involved, as Lee, Porya, Shintaro, and Sir (Gordon Jones) reconvened a few years later for another. Not a huge one, mind you, Arena Of Apprehension running just five tracks long, averaging between eight and ten minutes in length. That's only forty-four minutes total, an astonishingly low number for guys making ambient and modern classical. Surely there were a few extra drone-scapes lurking in their minds. Were they all only available for a single day? Hey, it's possible, the scheduling of artists from various locales conflicting with one another; places to be, gigs to perform, families to care, other jobs needing attention. It was probably a small effort just to get enough of the O.G. Angling Loser posse in for at least one more outing under the project name.

So, of all the myriad Norris ambient projects I've taken in, what differentiates The Angling Loser, beyond the increased performers? At first ear-glance, acoustic guitar, as played by Gordon “Sir Cliff” Jones. Ain't heard no six-stringer strumming on Memex or Moss Garden, that's for sure. Maybe on an Autumn Of Communion album, but I haven't heard all those yet (no box-set of that duo for me, thanks). Along with the usual minimalist ambient pads and textures you hear in almost everything Lee's a part of, there's also piano, field recordings, and crackly treatments giving the music a lived-in, rustic, pastoral vibe.

Which makes sense, given that the whole idea behind The Angling Loser is capturing the mood of solitude out in the wilderness, nothing better to do than lounge by a small river, the futile hope of capturing rainbow trout the extent of your worries. There's even some cheeky instructional dialog towards the end of Rain For The Oblivious pointing out the inherent silliness of it all. Still, given the cover art, I must quibble that the music is almost too summery and tranquil. Ain't no way you'd hear so many chirping birds in the middle of a slushy snowfall.

Paul Oakenfold - Perfecto Presents Another World

Thrive Records: 2000

Rinsing out another clutch of trance anthems wasn't exciting anymore. Everyone was doing it, CDs of the stuff flooding the shelves of all your major retailers. No, to stand out from an over-saturated market, you had to get conceptual in your mixes, add a unique spin on your art of spin.

This was no doubt running through Oakenfold's head as his brand had reached near global peak. Yes, he was the highest paid DJ in the world, but those two lads, Sasha & Digweed, kept getting the highest critical praises. How could it be, Paul had to wonder, why they were seen as light years ahead of him? They'd both had DJ mixes out on superclub tie-ins (Renaissance, Cream), both had entries in the Global Underground series. Surely they were on the same level, right? No, because Sasha & Diggers still had the critically lauded conceptual Northern Exposure series, and Oakenfold had no such items to his brand, nor could he, Paul's skill as a DJ incapable of such immaculate sets. What do?

Do a conceptual mix his way, is what. People laugh at your mixing abilities? Then make a mix where mixing isn't a main focus at all, just track selection. And of those tracks, make sure you get some upfront tunes premiered, like Max Graham's Airtight, or Quiver's rub of Led Zeppelin's Babe I'm Gonna Leave You. Plus, folks seemed to love that Silence track on Northern Exposure: Expeditions, so include that too, but with a fresh remix from that new hotness Dutch guy named Tiësto. Finally, do something no one was doing in their commercial DJ mixes, and include transitional pieces featuring music from Bladerunner, Dead Can Dance, and that recent Al Pacino and Russell Crowe flick! Top that, Misters Coe and Digweed! Oh, c'mon, pay attention to me! I tried this time, really I did! There's even a long blend with Timo Maas' Ubik and L.S.G.'s Into Deep - surely enough for proper prog-props.

Actually, that's something that strikes me about Another World, just how much of the 'dark prog' sound is in this. Yeah, Oakenfold can't help himself in having some of them also feature operatic vocals or Balearic vibes, but tell me tunes like Skope's Back And Front or Lost It.Com's Animal couldn't fit in a Bedrock set too. And ooh, there's some proggy-breaks action in Brancaccio & Asher's Darker. Yeah, having pieces like The Host Of The Seraphim and Tears In The Rain may be obvious to connoisseurs of such music, but ain't no one playing them in 'radio sets' like Another World; and I quite like Lisa Gerrard's Sacrifice, thank you very much.

Frankly, I like a lot of this set, even the cheesier moments like Jan Johnston's Flesh and the silly 'interviews' praising Oakenfold. The music's top-notch throughout, while Oakenfold's weaknesses are played as strengths in his track arrangement. For a brief moment here, he finally seemed on par with the critical darlings of progressive trance. It was mostly downward after.

Igorrr - Moisissure

Acroplane Recordings: 2008/2009

(a Patreon Request)

Pretty sure I've seen the name Igorrr in the past – one cannot even dabble in Venetian Snares without Igorrr's name getting dropped in association – but as for hearing his stuff, this is virgin territory, my friends. Still, how radically different can he be? You hear one breakcore artist, you've heard them all, amirite? Spastic Amen breaks, hyper editing, an aesthetic cribbed from another genre (ragga, chiptune, death metal, hentai), and a wacky sense of humour letting you know that everything involved is just one huge pisstake. Wait, that all sounds super awesome, and full of variety! Where was I going with this again? Oh yeah, with breakcore artists, you generally know what you're gonna' hear with these guys (re: that list above), but in a scene with dozens of extremely, ah, 'unique' individuals, you can count on something radically different from each one.

Of course, I don't know what specific things I might hear, and I couldn't help but take a peak at Igorrr's Discogs entry before diving in – don't want to be caught too unawares with these dudes. Straight off I'm hit with the word 'Baroque', which has me thinking, “ah, cool, there's gonna' be a lot of orchestral strings in this thing, as heard in some classic Aphex Twin music”. Occasionally, yes, but this Gautier Serre ain't limiting himself to that, nosiree. He's got himself some death metal in that creative cranium of his, which makes sense, baroque and metal sharing many musical traits. Just imagine Toccata And Fugue In D Minor with super-heavy guitar distortion! Oh, it's been done, you say. Like, a lot. Figures.

Anyhow, Moisissure is Igorrr's second album, though initially only as a self-released demo. When he later landed a proper label deal, this and his first demo, Poisson Soluble, were compiled into a double-disc item, but as I was requested to only review this, the first one will have to wait for another day. If I'm so inclined. Can't say I am though, Moisissure the sort of breakcore I'm equally delighted in, yet can't help but facepalm over too.

The baroque segments are nifty, I won't deny. Whether with creepy organs and strings (Valse en Décomposition), piano pieces (Œsophage De Tourterelle, Phasme Obèse), choirs (Liquid Requiem), flamenco guitars (Putrefiunt), or harpsichord (Huille Molle, Moelleux), no classical instrument is under-utilized or spared Igorrr's maniacal hyper-edits, often accompanied by glitched-out, thrashy rhythms. He even dabbles into swing-jazz for Brutal Swing, an old-timey ragtime ditty coupled with digital hardcore blast-beats and headbangin' metal riffs. I approve of this form of amusement making.

Other stuff, however, just leave my eyes rolled in their sockets. Death metal growling, babies crying, phlegm-filled breathing... is this all supposed to be funny, or kinda' serious? I assume the former, but I don't find it so, just annoying. Which, I'm sure, is also the point, creating discomfort in the listener. Aw, why do that, when you can showcase such operatic beauty as in Croute too? Gimme only good feels!

Sven Väth - Accident In Paradise

Eye Q Records: 1992

Only Sven Väth could make a 'solo' debut such as this and get away with it. Like could you imagine a man in the 2000s behind Very Serious minimal techno parties in Ibiza creating something as daft as a flute and harpsichord Coda? Not bloody likely – unless, of course, you are Sven Väth, a chap who probably hasn't a clue where his inspiration will take him. He just goes with it as he feels it. And my mind boggles of what it must have been like to hear Accident In Paradise when it was fresh and new, a collection of highfalutin artistry from the dude behind the legendary OMEN nightclub, and who's previous major musical output consisted of singing with the boys behind Snap!

In officially putting his name on an actual record though, I'm sure the young Väth had a ton of ideas floating about his head, many of which inspired by the raving lunatics he saw emerging in Frankfurt's nascent clubbing scene. The freaks were coming out in full force, uninhibited by the looming threat of crushing communism while getting knackered on really good drugs. It must have looked like a carnival of world-wide cultures, all meeting at a European crossroads, where tribal spiritualists could intermingle within aristocratic chambers. So many ideas, so many influences, how can one interpret them within the confines of dance album? Probably you don't, but that didn't stop Sven from at least trying.

Fortunately, Mr. Väth had a secret weapon at his disposal, helping him curate his ideas into something presentable. Okay, Ralf Hildenbeutel wasn't that much of a secret, the man already instrumental in producing many of Eye Q Records' early singles. He and Väth even released a collaborative album earlier that year as Barbarella, a more straight-forward techno LP. Having gotten what was 'expected' of them out, they were free to indulge in whatever fit their fancy in a proper artist record. Just make sure that lead single's a stompin' acid techno cut though – don't want to scare the punters off before they buy the album.

Accident In Paradise is, if nothing else, an ambitious LP that almost comes together as Sven and Ralf envisioned. Heavily front-loaded, the opening salvo of tribal-trancer Ritual Of Life, sweeping ambience of Caravan Of Emotions, and blissy Balearic vibes of L'Esperanza eats thirty-five minutes of the album, more than half its runtime. It can't help but go down from there, and they don't even try reaching that lofty peak again, the back half of Accident In Paradise mostly taken up by interstitial musical doodles of Renaissance dalliances. Even Mellow Illusion, a groovy, nine-minute old-school trancer, comes off humble and ordinary in this album's context. Re-issues added the radio version of L'Esperanza, giving you reason to keep the album playing through, if you're willing to sit through Sven and Ralf's psychedelic carnival ride getting there. I give them props for including such daft tunes like Merry-Go-Round Somewhere, but like most, I usually tap out after Mellow Illusion.

Hybrid - Morning Sci-Fi

Distict'ive Records: 2003

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

I'm sure I liked Wide Angle - I definitely know I liked Wider Angle for the Live Angle bonus CD. Unfortunately, a few things held back a love for Hybrid's debut album, none more prominent than a sense the duo's artistic pretensions didn't always match the finished product. They wanted to move beyond the easy club fodder, creating high-culture music for a cultured audience. Cool, bro, but that leaves those who adored the breakbeat science wanting in the wind. How can such folks get their flail on when a French rapper is crooning over a trip-hop rhythm?

I won't deny being in that camp, making me wary of checking anything after Wider Angle. Figured Hybrid would continue the super-sophisticated music explorations, the blinding breaks they made their name on a mere stepping stone to higher, loftier goals in the music world, thus a journey I wasn't much interested in joining with. As continues being the case, I should have got that tree trunk out of my rump sooner, because fuck me if Morning Sci-Fi is better than Wide Angle by a... erm, broad space.

It starts as I initially feared (well, properly starts, discounting the secret song hiding in the CD's negative space), with Hybrid throwing oh-so many ideas into a soup of genre fusion, with production ultra-crisp and clean such that it kinda' neuters whatever teeth the song has. Like, there's things I like in True To Form (can never go wrong with a Reese bass growl, and it's nice hearing those New Order vibes from Peter Hook), but with the obligatory orchestral swells and limp lyrics from Adam Taylor, it once again sounds like Hybrid's clutching for musical opulence they just can't quite grasp.

Then Know Your Enemy hits, and hits fuckin' hard with the progressive breaks action I love from these guys, and all is right again. Then third cut Marrakech hits, and I'm thrown for a loop, the tune some sort of psychedelic trip-hop outing that wouldn't sound out of place in a FSOL Environments LP. Ain't no way that's gonna' get a “most moving pieces of electronic music” plaudit, but it definitely earns an uber thumbs-up from me! And while I prefer Hybrid's instrumentals, Adam Taylor sounds great in I'm Still Awake, the music complementing rather than burying him as though his voice is just another layer in an overstuffed cake.

And goodness, how are there so many kick-ass club tracks on this album? It's not as relentless as Live Angle (obviously it couldn't be), but the block featuring Visible Noise, We Are In Control and Higher Than A Skyscraper gives that CD serious competition. The final clutch of tracks gets back to the lyrical stuff, with Kirsty Hawkshaw providing a full range of octaves on the closer Blackout. This was honestly what I was expecting out of Morning Sci-Fi, but given the highly kinetic, super energetic tuneage that preceded it, by all means, Misters Truman and Healings, have at your sophisticated songcraft.

ACE TRACKS: October 2018

Just how important is it that I physically own a CD before I review it? Clearly not the most important factor, as I've reviewed a number of releases without holding a tactile object within my fingers beforehand (wait...). Even beyond digital-only items as found on Bandcamp, there's a few vinyl-options I've skipped on in favour of the digital (egh, I feel dirty typing that) because beginning a collection of the Black Crack is just not a feasible option for your truly. Plus, I've started the painful acceptance that some CDs are likely never attainable for any reasonable price, so why deny myself of releases (and the artists their financial compensation) if the non-physical option is available. And let's not forget, way back in my TranceCritic days, a large number of reviews were written from, erm, less-than legit sources. We were young, we didn't have the money!

That's probably part of why I feel it necessary that I do things proper-like now, to make amends for cheating the game before. More than that though, I feel reviewing something off a stream – legit or otherwise – is cheating as well. What right do I have in dropping extended critiques of music if I'm not willing to put in my own personal time and money into it? It's no better than writing an overlong YouTube comment, and I'd like to think this blogging thing has a smidge more class than that. Also, if I did open my reviewing options to everything Spotify has available, then I'd be obligated to cover all the new stuff, all the time. When will I have time to review Moonshine compilations from 1999 then? Alright, soul bearing over, here's the ACE TRACKS for the month of October:


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Scott Grooves - Key Statements - The Beginning: The Soiree Collection 1992-1995
Miami Beach Force - The Revenge
Scott Grooves - Pure Mixin' It: A Decade of Natural Midi 2007-2017
Autumn Of Communion - Polydeuces
Cryogenic Weekend - Polar Sleep

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 6%
Most “WTF?” Track: Easy choice would be a GosT tune, but I didn't include any of the truly WTF?? tracks off Possessor.

I don't know how this playlist sounds! Okay, I know how the music goes and all that, but how it flows together, I haven't a clue. I simply had no time for it, see. I usually throw these together a day or two before the end of the month, give it a once over, and move on. However, with a couple Patreon Request items finally arriving in the mail, those have taken up my prime listening time instead of this. So, uh, y'all may be venturing into musical territory I've yet to experience with this one, friends. Have at 'er!

Islands Of Light - Ruebke

Home Normal: 2014

It's always nice whenever I get a timely album to review, and there's no better time than now if I'm gonna' write about music inspired by the autumn falls. The local Vancouver fauna is in full colourful decay now, with leaves shedding all that energy-producing chlorophyll as they hunker down for a bitter West Coast winter (bottoming out at -5 degrees Celsius; brutal!). Most trees in my neighbourhood settle for the yellows and oranges and browns, but there's a few in other areas with a blazing red foliage, nearly blinding my eyes as sunlight reflects off them.

Eventually though, they'll all fall into the streets, forming huge piles that will never, ever be taken away by municipality services. The rains will come, washing the leaf piles onto all the sewer drains, clogging them. Giant ponds – curb lakes, as some call them – will form, as the rains won't stop, and the drains won't get unclogged. Meanwhile, the huge leaf piles on the streets that aren't washed away will start rotting, congealing into festering lumps of slimy biomass, occasionally freezing overnight if the rains let up and the temperature drops low enough. After a time, the city will take the lumps of rot and decay away, but not without leaving a smear upon the pavement, from which will never leave until the spring sun warms and bakes the residue away. I'm not reviewing more dark ambient here, I swear!

I doubt Dino Spiluttini had all that in mind when crafting Ruebke, an album centred around the change of summer to fall, even releasing it on the autumn equinox of 2014. Sure, the shortening days and chillier temperature can bring a sombre vibe to our daily going-ons, but ooh, pretty leaf colours, yo'!

Much of Dino's work entails modern classical with droning overtones, often maintaining a melancholic mood throughout, so an autumn-themed album makes sense within his discography. However, he felt an itch to explore something more piano based, and thus created this alternate alias of Islands Of Light to do so. Yes, in a bizarre coincidence, I got myself another piano album on that Ultimae Records Shop splurge. It was never my intent, but lo', such interesting cover arts, these piano ambient albums have.

It isn't all piano music either, Mr. Spiluttini's classical drone finding its way into pieces like Honung, Heisternest, and Heimfeld. And while gentle, quiet, reflective keyboard playing is the main mood throughout Ruebke, there are a couple chipper pieces too – like busy squirrels rummaging about looking for fallen hazelnuts. Meummelmannsberg in particular sounds like he's using piano strings and even the frame as a form of percussion, and even settles into a string drone before returning with the clanking piano. Why yes this is the most interesting track on the album.

Overall, Ruebke feels like an album best served gazing out into a brisk autumn evening, a cool mist oozing through the firework displays of trees prepping for seasonal twilight. Through a window, that is.

Peter Broderick - Partners

Erased Tapes Records: 2016

I'm perusing the Ultimae online record shop, sifting through a bunch of items, when one with a striking cover catches my eye, as cover art is wont to do. Like, it's not derelict boats, but dead trunks of trees strewn across a beach, bathed in the dark blue of pre-dawn (maybe), it triggers something within my grey matter of a wistful past. I'm certain this is a shot of the Oregon Coast, a lovely strip of Earth where the endless Pacific crashes upon sandy dunes, filling the surrounding lands with salty air (wait...). It's not too dissimilar to the regions of the West Coast Of Canada that I grew up in, though my locales were far more rocky than the Oregon sands, due to all the fjords creating different erosion conditions. See, with all the power of the Pacific crashing down, waves and wind can erode coasts with ease, but fjords limit that process, all the while creating larger tidal pools where a multitude of crabs, shellfish, starfish, regular fish, and seaweed flourish. Life as we know it may not have existed without these tide pools! Not that I'm saying sandy beaches are over-rated, but c'mon, give those slimey, slippery rock beaches with the gas-filled seaweed that squeaks and pops when you walk over it, as though crying in pain from your negligence, a little respect, yo'.

ANYHOW, I just had to buy Peter Broderick's album blind. Like, I thought the name looked a little familiar, and it turned out I had seen it as part of the Slaapwel Records catalogue, plus an interview with Resident Advisor, but that was the extent of my recognition of the man. Looking through his Discoggian data reveals a lot of albums released in the past decade on a number of labels I don't know of (Kning Disk, Digitalis Limited, Fang Bomb, Hush Records, Brian Records, Type), though he's made Erased Tapes Records a semi-home as of late. He's also run the gamut in terms of musical leanings, indulging in folk rock, dream pop, and modern classical, to name-drop a few.

It's in the modern classical camps we find Partners, and of the 'minimalist piano as played in an grand empty concert hall' variety at that. I didn't know that when I bought the album, and after hearing the opening track, I thought I was in for something entirely different, some sort of spoken-word poetry record. That's just the first track though, and there's an exhaustive detailing behind the process it came about, which ties into the second track, Mr. Broderick's take on the John Cage composition In A Landscape. Cage's deconstructionist methods inspired Peter's own piano pieces, something about rolling dice, assigning numbers to notes, re-rolling to determine their order... It's all rather artistically pretentious sounding, but the music itself is quite pleasant, with subtle electronic touches and treatments filling in the ambience. Definitely an album where the process can be a tad thick, but it doesn't detract from the finished product.

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.