FSOL - ISDN

Virgin: 1995

You'd think I'd have gotten this in my initial gathering of FSOL albums, a necessary companion to Lifeforms and Dead Cities. A few things kept me from doing so though, a primary factor being I wasn't sure this was even an album. Compared to Ziggy Riphead's striking, CGI artwork from this period in Future Sound Of London's timeline, ISDN is flat, drab, and nondescript. Which hey, is an artistic statement in of itself, plus you'd find plenty weirdo visual-scapes within the booklet if you really needed them.

Still, this record had something of a rep, in that even for a FSOL LP, ISDN was way out there. Wherein Brian and Garry, uninhibited by such limitations as 'performance' and 'audience expectation', could transmit their muses directly into your living rooms. Oh honeys, you hadn't heard anything yet. Just wait until you get a load of this thing called 'live streaming'!

That all said, an appreciation of Brain and Garry's numerous Environment outings finally got me to properly grab ISDN. Okay, reconnecting with a few tunes like Slider, Amoeba and A Study Of Six Guitars didn't hurt in nudging me either. Whether this was some over-indulgent live show broadcast over a fledgling internet, or an assemblage of studio wankery, it was hard to deny at least a handful of dope-ass tunes emerged from these sessions. Surely there were more than what I plucked out of ancient P2P programs.

Confounding the “is this a live album or not?” vibe of ISDN is opener Just A Fucking Idiot, sampling live audio from a Joy Division/New Order. From there, the track's pure future-shock territory, so *deep breath* The Far Out Son Of Lung And The Ramblings Of A Madman grounds things with freeform jazz-funk groovy goodness. An appropriately bit of bridging ambience in Appendage later, and we're into the highlights off ISDN: Slider and Smokin Japanese Babe. Yeah, you could argue they're FSOL jumping on some trendy genres (big beat and trip-hop, respectively), but they're still done in that nifty, warped, post-apocalyptic, psychedelic, sampleholic way only FSOL were doing at the time.

After that though, ISDN goes wa-a-a-yy deep into sound collages and music making for its own sake. For sure some moments stick out – the electro-chill of You're Creeping Me Out, the spritely melodies in Eyes Pop – Skin Explodes – Everybody Dead - but it's not until eleventh track Egypt that things steer in some sort of direction again. As for Egypt, it's got electro rhythms, chants, crickets, woodwinds... y'know, vintage Lifeforms-era FSOL.

Kai and Amoeba feel like two halves of a whole, what with their muted rhythm sections, though I prefer Amoeba's sputtering voice pads over Kai's industrial drone-throb. Six Guitars remains pure bliss, and Snake Hips takes us out on total psychedelic rock weirdness. An Amorphous one calls from beyond.

So yeah, ISDN does have some of FSOL's best moments. It's just a shame they mostly come at the bookends of the album rather than as a consistent whole.

Banco de Gaia - Big Men Cry

Mammoth Records: 1997

Though I place Big Men Cry at the tippy-top of Banco de Gaia albums, if I were to recommend a record for a first-timer, this would be, like, second-to-last. For this is an album that doesn't so much represent Banco as a whole, but rather the bleeding edge of what Banco is capable of.

Even by Last Train To Lhasa, it was clear the classic ambient dub and progressive house style Toby made hay from was tiring out, needing a whole second disc to indulge himself away from dance music's rules. Possibly emboldened by the 'live' nature of those sessions, plus needing to 'evolve or die' in the rapidly mutating scene that was '90s electronica', Toby decided it was time to get the old band back together. Or start up a new band. Get more live instruments into his gigs, is what I'm saying.

And to do that, his approach to songcraft had to completely change, allowing for more freeform flow in his jams than relying on standard acid house loops and samples. Oh, there was still that too, but tracks Drippy and Drunk As A Monk feel far looser than Banco tunes of old, adaptable to musicians playing them rather than being reliant on machines. Meanwhile, Celestine tries the same trick with ambient dub, but despite some wonderful saxophone tooting from Pink Floyd alum Dick Parry, is still a bit stiff compared to the other two. Marks would iron out those kinks in follow-up albums though, and hasn't looked back since.

Still, that wasn't enough to shake Toby out of the doldrums he was feeling around this time. So down he was that he made one of his all-time saddest songs in the titular track, all forlorn strings and beautifully weepy melodies, never again so bare heart-wrenching emotions put to song. Sometimes though, even nakedly laying out one's soul isn't enough. Sometimes you need to escape everything, even if it's One Billion Miles Out, the great beyond and grandeur of the cosmos, unsullied by the hand of man. Banco had ventured into the cosmic realm before, but never in such a manner that you fear its unfathomable desolation.

Yet your gaze settles upon a lone star freighter, quietly drifting in the emptiness, its cargo unknown as it moves through the interstellar medium. Eventually it pulls into Starstation Earth for refuelling and a greasy meal, a real dive of a 'trucker's stop', your only company some droids and a sad-sack singing old country croons from a jukebox. Can't stay admiring the scenery though, as it's back to the stars, taking off at hyperspeed and disappearing into the great beyond before Toby quite literally closes the gate on the album (have I mentioned all the pronounced field recordings yet?).

Banco's music has always been quite 'visual', but Big Men Cry is downright cinematic compared to his larger body of work, pulling you into other worlds well beyond your crusty dance floors. It's emotional escapism music at its finest.

Asia - Asia

Geffen Records: 1982

You'd forgive me for thinking this would be better. Given the pedigree of the players involved, how could anyone initially think otherwise? The band Yes guitarist Steve Howe ended up on? Hell, I'm sold already. Geoff Downes may not be the definitive Yes synth player, but he was involved enough to be considered honoured alum, so I'll dig on what he's doing too. That John Wetton dude, long time session bassist with Yes, King Crimson and Uriah Heep: sounds like as fine a prog-rock resume as anyone of the time. And those Palmer and Lake chaps, of Emerson, Lake & Palmer, they have a darn good reputation among prog-rock heads, especially Greg Lake from his time in King Crimson. Throw in some nifty Roger Dean cover art, and I'm ready to throw this self-titled debut album from super-group Asia on. Screw what all the haters have said about this band over the years, this is gonna' rock my socks off the clock on the corner block. Hollycock!

Then opener Heat Of The Moment starts, and my face drops. Oh... That song. They were behind it. I... honestly had no idea. Absolutely I've heard it tons on the classic rock radio, the ultimate '80s radio, and the generic pop hits radio, but it never clicked for me it was by Asia. Like, the distinctive Howe guitar action I'm familiar with is almost utterly absent. No, that's not it, he's there, but buried in the mix, on equal footing with Downes' synths, Palmer's drums, and Wetton's bass. Rather, it's all about Wetton's lead vocals, which makes sense for a radio-friendly tune – no time for technical prog-rock wankery in a three-to-four minute jangle. Same goes for Only Time Will Tell, another song featured aplenty on all the aforementioned radio stations. For sure you get some solos from each player involved, but as brief seconds-long spurts, not minutes-long exercises.

How? How could Howe and co. stoop to such commercial pandering? As always, my old man had a nugget of wisdom when I inquired him about it. After the previous decade was spent getting dicked by shady labels and making little scratch for all their artistic endeavours, shooting for the charts had to be an enticing offer for these guys. I'm sure their deal with Geffen Records was a lucrative one, David Geffen snatching up anyone he could with promises of favourable contracts to establish his hip new label. Just, y'know, make sure you get some hits on the radio while you're at it. And Asia certainly delivered that.

And guess what! Once past those obvious arena rock anthems, Asia turns into the sort of prog-rock outing I was expecting, with plenty o' musical showcases and highlighted Howe guitar action among the power-pop choruses. Yeah, there's cheese, production's a little too studio polished, and it ain't a touch on their '70s stuff, but it's not so embarrassing as other '80s prog-rock went. At least on par with Yes' 90125, if you will.

Yes - 90125

Atlantic/Rhino Records: 1983/2004

When I was young, I didn't know much, but I knew my Dad liked Yes. I also knew he played rock music in a rock band, and that Yes also played rock music in a rock band. Yet, in all the practice jams and rehearsals and sound checks, I never heard my Dad play Yes. With the logic befitting of a youngling who didn't know much, I suggested he should play some Yes in his rock band, to which my Dad gave a somewhat bemused smile, replying, “I couldn't play to their level.” This statement took me aback. To my young ears, songs like Owner Of A Lonely Heart, Hold On, and Changes didn't seem that much different than his covers of Loverboy and Steve Miller Band, and surely that's all the band Yes ever did.

Of course, I eventually learned just how expansive the whole Yes discography is, and why my old man felt songs like Heart Of Sunrise, Close To The Edge, or Gates Of Delirium weren't exactly bar-rock suitable (surely he's jammed to Wurm on occasion tho'!). Still, you can't blame a kid for thinking otherwise, Yes' hard pivot into arena-friendly rock anthems fitting them right in with the radio and MTV hits of the '80s, a far cry from their progressive '70s output. And it was all the work of one man, their new guitarist Trevor Rabin.

Truth is, 90125 wasn't supposed to be a Yes album, at least not in name, the band having gone their separate ways following Drama. Founder Chris Squire and drummer Alan White stuck together though, still enjoying their rhythmic mojo, but they needed someone as lead and guitarist, and happened upon Trevor's demos. Liking the cut of his musical jib, the two parties hooked up and even started recording some tunes as Cinema. A happenstance meeting with former Yes keyboardist Tony Kaye brought him into the fold, and feeling Trevor couldn't handle all the vocals while doing his thing on the ol' six stringer, Chris reached out to Jon Anderson for his thoughts. Jon liked what he heard, and after a marketing rep suggested they ditch the Cinema moniker, you've got a whole new Yes for a whole new decade (Trevor Horn helped produce).

Make no mistake though, Trevor Rabin's ear for rock anthems remains the dominate force in this album. Yeah, you can hear whenever contributions from Squire (those basslines!) and Anderson come in (oh man, does Jon's abstract lyrics ever clash with Trevor's simple prose – sounds great tho'!), but for radio-ready rock, there's still some exceptional songcraft going on in these tunes: key changes, time signature variants, wacky solos, and all that good stuff prog rockers are known for. It's just not key features anymore, little asides where these musicians get to show off for fun before returning to an impossibly catchy earworm for a powerful chorus. 90125 may be Yes' most 'obvious' album, but I'd take this over most hair metal of the decade any day.

Banco de Gaia - 10 Years (Remixed) (Original TC Review)

Disco Gecko: 2003

(2018 Update:
No, I don't have the actual 10 Years compilation from Mr. Marks. I did, at first. I mean, all those classic Banco tunes, plus assorted rarities like the Jack Dangers rub of How Much Reality Can You Take and the Insect Intelligence version of Amber, gathered onto two discs and all. Of course I got myself that! Then I loaned it out to a friend. Never got it back, though to be fair, I didn't push him to return it either. It's not like it was difficult to 'get' the rare offerings again anyway (most of these can be found on the Rewritten Histories collections now), so I was fine letting 10 Years slide from my coffers. I may be a major Banco fan, but I'm not a completist ...he says while reposting a review for a 'completist only' compilation.

This review is pretty rambly for one of my latter-years TC efforts, probably 33% longer than it needs to be. It's like, whenever I got the chance to talk up Banco at TranceCritic, I didn't hold back one iota. The other reviews I wrote for the website - Maya and Farewell Ferengistan - were absolute behemoths in word count. Thank God for self-imposed word count, though I'm oh-so tempted to break that rule whenever I get around to Big Men Cry.)

IN BRIEF: Ten years of tour mates.

For good and ill, the remix album has become an undeniable part of dance music’s legacy. It’s reached a point where they are not only expected, but even counted upon in some circles. I’ve seen several bemoan a lacklustre album-proper only to follow such sentiments thinking “hopefully the remixes will make this better.” Trance alone has several albums packaged with an additional remix disc, not to mention the endless follow-up remix discs for the bigger releases. Despite some of the positives that come with the endeavor - the odd time a remix actually does an original better, or rounding up rare and obscure remixes into a single package - far too often these CDs are cynical, quick money-grabs, milking an artist’s music for every potential penny. Ultimately though, remix albums for electronic music share the same status live albums from rock bands do: potentially interesting, sometimes brilliant, but usually skippable.

This is what makes a remix CD for Banco de Gaia even more peculiar. Toby Marks has consistently shied away from cheap commercial gains, so you really can’t take 10 Years: Remixed as such. On the other hand, it’s not like there's been a plethora of remixes of Banco tunes over the years, most of which are done by Marks himself. Despite some notable names being given the re-rub task (Oliver Lieb, Speedy J, Jack Dangers), the trend has been Banco de Gaia does the best remixes of Banco de Gaia. However, those were already included on the 10 Years proper album.

Which brings us back to 10 Years: Remixed - specifically, what exactly is this release all about? I suppose doing a remix album is justifiable when it’s in conjunction with a retrospective album, but Marks knew full well there weren’t enough in his back catalog for a proper CD. If such is the case, then how about brand new remixes of a bunch of classic Banco tunes? Sounds good to me, only there’s a catch: instead of hiring out big names or scene mainstays, Marks got in touch with a bunch of his musical associates from over the years and gave them carte blanche to go wild. And if you’ve followed his musical career, you’d know the man from the World Bank has had some wildly eclectic associates, though with more of a leaning towards the global-fusion dance beat (obviously).

I guess what I’m trying to say here is only hard-line fans of Banco de Gaia are going to get much out of this release ; par for the course when it comes to remix albums anyway. If you’ve read this far, then you’re obviously a fan (or incredibly curious), so let me tell you what to expect from 10 Years: Remixed.

First, the familiar. Even here at TC, names such as Eat Static, Loop Guru, and HIA (The Higher Intelligence Agency) have crossed paths (er, mainly because of a certain reviewer’s affinity for a certain producer who’s been tied to them), and as such the groups bring their trademark sounds to the tracks they got to remix. HIA turns the obscure proto psy-dub gem Soufie into a clicky ambient-techno piece, Loop Guru ramp up the ethno-dub styling of Sakarya, and Eat Static gives Lai Lah the psy-trance business, but also throws in a bunch of other samples Marks has used in other tracks (I Love Baby Cheesy, Kuos, etc.).

Meanwhile, other psychedelic and dancehall dub mainstays like Temple Of Sound, Zion Train, Dreadzone, Asian Dub Foundation, Future Loop Foundation, and Transglobal Underground lend their hand, with various results. Some are quite the reworkings, such as Temple Of Sound turning Drunk As A Monk from a kind of prog-rock stomp into a brisk neurofunk excursion; or Dreadzone giving the incredibly somber vocal version of Glove Puppet some rhythmic spring (Jennifer Folker still sounds gloriously tragic though). On the other hand, not much is gained or lost in Future Loop Foundation adding dreamy Balearic tones to Celestine, while Zion Train seems at a loss as to what to do with Shanti, providing a brief and rather generic techno -dub tune in the process (honestly, though, would anyone be able to top Marks’ brilliant Black Mountain Mix?); and what exactly is going on in Obsidian? Transglobal Underground’s stomp-dub go at Amber is ace though.

Now, the obscure and unknowns. Well, 100th Monkey isn’t exactly obscure - it's long-time Banco collaborator Andy Guthrie - but certainly not a name you’ll immediately connect with. Since he’s been familiar with Marks’ work over the years, it’s unsurprising he gives Sunspot a great remix - and it’s also a mash-up with Qurna! Elsewhere on the CD, old school industrial group Perfume Tree - here known as Veloce - does a respectable deep-trance rub of Heliopolis, which rates around the Shanti remix in terms of usefulness. It’s the hopelessly obscure Carbomb that brings us the most ‘leftfield’ cut, turning Drippy into a kind of thrash-metal thing - has to be heard to be believed, even more so that it actually works!

*whew* That’s quite the eye-full for the hardcore Banco fan, I must admit, but given the eclecticism and seemingly random order of all these remixes, it could not be glossed over. Well, it could, but that’s not what we here at TC are about. Where am I going with this? Oh, right… 10 Years: Remixed. There’s a few quality remixes here - see below for which - but this CD’s mostly a ‘completists only’ deal. Although it’s interesting to hear different versions, it’s primarily going to be Banco fans that will appreciate them.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2009. © All rights reserved.

ACE TRACKS: March 2018

It's a strange sensation, this. Not having any pressing need to push forward with another review soon. Even when I took the occasional month-long sabbatical, I still had a set date for when I'd hit the keyboard again. And while it's about 95% certain I'll pick things up again here, I don't have a particular day picked out for it either. It could be mid-month, it could me many months (not likely), all dependant on how fast and productive I am with other tasks demanding my current attention. With this new 'freedom', however, I can go about listening to whatever music I want, not worrying about any set schedule or orderly list. Why, I can even explore music outside my usual interests and expertise since there's no pressure to write reviews for them on an electronic music blog! Country! Jazz! Polka! Schlaagger! Zanzibaran taarab! Zouk! Hotel pop!

Or, y'know, just stay in my lane. That works too. Anyhow, here's the ACE TRACKS for March of 2018:


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
ZerO One - zerO One
Mick Chillage - Zen Diagrams
Plank & Ishq - Zeal Monachorum
Various - Frankie Bones: You Know My Name
Various - Y9: Nine Years Of Psychonavigation Records

Percentage of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 30%
Most “WTF?” Track: Wednesday Campanella - Uranium-Chan (so wonderfully unexpected of anything)

Reverse alphabetical order! I mean, it kinda' makes sense to give the Z and Y songs top billing since I just finished going through Y and Z albums. Surprising there even is a few tracks like that here – artists don't often title tunes with those letters.

Very heavy on the '70s music and music that sounds like it could have been made in the '70s. There's also music that sounds like it could be from the '80s, but is clearly made in the Nowies, some music from the '00s, and... wow, nothing from the '90s? That's got to be a first. Pole Folder at least sounds like he could have been from the '90s though, so close enough.

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.

Yes - Yes Remixes (2018 Update)

Rhino Records: 2003

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)

Boy, did I hedge my bets in that old review. I was already reaching out on a limbful of good graces even attempting a Yes review for a one-year old trance review website, but I had all this honest-to-God enthusiasm for the Remixes project, see. The concept alone blew my mind like so many Star Trek twists, that anyone would feel inspired enough to recreate songs famed and obscure by prog-rock elder statesmen for an audience that probably didn't exist. Like, ain't no way the old timers who were down with Yes since the Peter Banks days would have much interest in hearing these songs all danced-up, nor would the clubbing masses give a care either. Who does that leave, then?

For sure there's the absolute die-hard Yes fans that must consume everything the band's ever put out (and all the concert bootlegs), but just because they got this album out of completist obligation doesn't necessarily mean they got the album either. There may be some Boomer music enthusiasts that are always on the hunt for the strange and esoteric, who embraced every bit of electronic sonic weirdness from the earliest musique concrete through krautrock and ambient, and all the way into the era of IDM – they do exist, though not in significant numbers.

Finally, I suppose there's dudes like me, younger generation types who enjoy the techno boom-booms as much as the prog-rock of yesteryear. I don't know how many of us there number, only familiar with two others in this demographic: Virgil Howe, the son of Yes guitarist Steve Howe, and the guy who made this album of Yes remixes, plus Mark Prindle of Mark's Record Reviews: An Interactive Site Featuring Music Critique By Mark Prindle And Music Fans The Worldwide (Founded 1996 – Retired 2011) fame. I assume there's more though, just because us kids mid-life adults are more accepting of new musiks than them old peoples are. But don't you Millennials dare sully Yes' legacy with your mumble dubwave racket, by g'ar.

While I was so totally down for Yes Remixes ten years ago that I'd sneak in a TranceCritic review for it, I can't say I've returned to it much since. I mentioned that, more often than not, you're gonna' turn to the original pieces, or maybe live renditions, over a one-off experimental concept as on offer here. Yes, it's cool hearing Tempus Fugit rearranged into catchy, looping hooks befit of pop radio, Wurm of Starship Trooper turned into a d'n'b tear-out complete with Moog solo, or the shorty Five Percent Of Nothing cut up from samples and extended into a regular length song, such that it stands on its own as a piece of music rather than a gimmick. Unfortunately, that's all Yes Remixes ultimately comes off like, a gimmick. Respectful, oftentimes clever, and even enjoyable on its own merits, sure, but one that's only worth a spare indulgence. There's just so much other Yes music to consume, see.

Genesis - Invisible Touch

Atlantic: 1986

This past Novemeber, the third single from Genesis’ bestselling album Invisible Touch kept running through my head. Granted, Land Of Confusion is already one of those ridiculously ear-wormy pop-rock anthems of the ‘80s, but for the first time in my life, I actually found myself… relating to the lyrics? Wait, how can that be? I’ve long been suspect of the pseudo-genre of ‘Boomer Activist Arena Rock’. For all the good intentions that generation tried accomplishing throughout the ‘80s, most of it now reeks of pretentious self-righteousness, especially in lieu of little significantly having been accomplished with these songs.

Still, the video – one of the most memorable of that decade thanks to the puppetry involved – had me realizing just how eerily similar our current climate is compared to the one portrayed there. A bumbling, aging, feckless Republican President who dreams of being a hero in a scary world; celebrities believing they got the Right Stuff in banding together for Important Issues; Phil Collins looking like a muppet. Trying to make sense of it all, it really did feel like we were living in another Land Of Confusion for a new era. Who’d guess that Genesis would be prophetic three decades ago!

This got me curious about the rest of the album Land Of Confusion came on, whether there might be other prescient nuggets of foresight throughout. Never mind the reputation Invisible Touch has gained over the years as one of those ‘80s albums that absolutely reeks of the decade filled with chintzy, superfluous excess. Even looking at the cover-art, you can’t imagine it being made at any other time than when shoulder-pads, mullets, tinny production, and hall effects reigned supreme.

The album itself isn’t really all that political though – no more so than a typical pop album of the mid-‘80s. The remaining Genesis band members – singer/drummer Phil Collins, guitarist Mike Rutherford (aka: the tall bearded guy), and keyboardist Tony Banks (aka: the other guy) – had been off doing their own projects for the past few years; apparently Collins had a couple successful tunes on the radio in that time. When they reconvened for this album, they came in with no preconceived notions, no intended ideas. Just let the music flow naturally as it came to them. And yet, it still ended up sounding like a Phil Collins record. Must be that Hugh Padgham ‘invisible touch’.

So everyone knows the titular hit single (definitive ‘80s pop). Tonight, Tonight, Tonight sees the band indulge themselves a little more in their music chops, while letting Collins belt another power chorus. Anything She Does is one of those peppy jazz-funk things as done by British white guys with synths. Domino is a more ambitious rock outing at ten-minutes in length, and instrumental The Brazilian closes the album out reminding folks that Genesis once were Serious Prog Musicians too. Hard to remember that with two ballads on here, though Throwing It All Away is charming enough. In Too Deep though… yeesh.

ACE TRACKS: November 2012

We’re nearly at the end of these back-tracking ACE TRACKS Playlists. It’s weird realizing that the music I was playing and reviews I was writing was done over three years ago now, enough time that I’m actually having faded recollection of the month. Like, as though it was a distant part of my past, not unlike my TranceCritic writing days. The music I was covering seems so innocent too, still going through my old collection of trusty favorites and stand-bys, having no clue of the splurging I’d undertake that’d bloat out my library to the four digit realm. About a dozen CDs have since been added within this block alone, and that’s just narrowly missing out that Pete Namlook tribute box set. Back then I had no idea labels like Silent Season, Altar, or Psychonavigation even existed! That November also marked the point I realized I could keep writing at a near-daily clip, though with a signficant chunk being some of my all-time favorite albums, it’s not surprising I was feeling the mojo then. It’s also a big ol’ ACE TRACKS Playlist, so let’s get to ‘er.


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Pete Namlook - The Definitive Ambient Collection: Volume 2
Deep Forest - Deep Forest
Dillinja - Cybotron
Djen Ajakan Shean - Crows Heading For Point Break
Roc Raida - Crossfaderz: A Turntablist’s Throwdown!!
Quadrophonia - Cozmic Jam

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 12%
Percentage Of Rock: 19%
Most “WTF?” Track: Fear Factory - Pisschrist (that title, tho’!)

Full albums from Future Sound Of London, Pink Floyd, and Spicelab are a must. A bunch of Fear Factory, a pile of progressive trance, a little techno, psy, and world beat thrown in for good measure. Oh, and that last little bit of Bone Thugs working its way in too. Man, did I ever look like the Bone Thugs fanboy in those early months. Little did anyone know my hip-hop allegiance lay with the Wu-Tang Clan (plus whatever Del was up to). All in all, this is a fun, varied month’s worth of music, another reason why I likely sped through those CDs so fast. Couldn’t wait to hear the next one again!

Various - Die Welt Ist Klang: A Tribute To Pete Namlook (CD8)

Carpe Sonum Records: 2014

And finally we've come to the end of Die Welt Ist Klang. Not as bad of a slog as I feared going in. Heck, I wouldn't mind returning to a few of these CDs in another week or two after letting them sit fallow from my memory. Can't say that for many other box sets I own, much less collections of music running near the one-hundred mark (I haven’t played anything from The Electro Compendium since January 2013, and I like electro!). It's just too much for this soul to take, and my mind boggles at the thought of super-hardcore fans subsisting of nothing but FAX material. There's a reason Pete Namlook's label dwindled in prominence as the years went on – many ears were more than sated even by the turn of the century.

Yet, despite so many artists contributing to Carpe Sonum's epic turbo-hyper tribute, I must list a few names I'm disappointed didn't show up. Call it a sense of completion even on something as comprehensive as this box set. Here we go... Mixmaster Morris. Klaus Schulze. Uwe Schmidt. Christian Thier. Pussylover. Aphex Twin. Brian Eno. Steve Roach. Alex Paterson. Kraftwerk. Jimmy Cauty. Banco de Gaia. Phil Wilde. Neil F’n Young. Anyone from Ultimae. Anyone from Nashville, Tennessee. A humpback whale. Okay, some of these are just wishful thinking, but imagine the possibilities, eh? I'm sure Mr. Kaulmann would have encouraged you to.

Enough of that. After seven CDs of ambient, ambient techno, chill-out breaks, and a little trance too, what sort of music will Carpe Sonum take us out with for the final disc? By going back to ambient it seems, though more of an old-school flavour than CD5 went. After all, CD4 had all the outlier genres, and as the back-half of Die Welt Ist Klang is intended to mirror the front-half, it’s only natural for CD8 to get a little Berlin-Schoolie on our ears. There’s even an air of modern classical with Mass Roman’s Everyone Has It Now and Ceder’s Moog model D aC final (live take #6). No jazz, though.

I must admit many of these tracks have me thinking of many older acts. Metasonica’s Eternal Return sounds like its getting its mojo from Enigma. Terra Ambient’s Unfertig ohne Sie feels more appropriate for a New Age shop (though a tasteful one). Boreal Taiga & 3Music’s Piap-Bai could be a handy contribution to that Twin Peaks relaunch. The Garwin Project’s Solar is so Pink Floyd, I totally see Dick Perry in the studio despite the lack of a saxophone solo.

And then there are the final two tracks. After eighty-nine pieces of music, these have to be your money shot, the lasting impression of a Pete Namlook tribute. The second-to-last goes to James Lewin, an unknown to Lord Discog’s mighty well of knowledge, providing a minimalist, haunting piece of drone. It’s followed by Stormloop’s Snowdrift, where twelve minutes of widescreen ambient pads and synth washes shimmer and cascade like you’re in... well, y’know.

The Beatles - Abbey Road

Capitol Records: 1969/2009

The only Beatles album you're supposed to have, even if you're not much of a Beatles fan. Sure, they're no longer at the crest of their creative powers, but it's arguable they indulged in their ideas a bit too much (not to mention the drugs). Concept albums? Studio experiments? Bunch of nonsense. You're a rock band, lads, why you no rock anymore? Even the Liverpool Four knew they weren’t firing on all cylinders, lacking the creative synergy that propelled them above and beyond all other bands of their era. Individually, they were doing fine for themselves (even Ringo!), but imagine if they combined their forces to their fullest potential as in the old days. Oh, the wonders they could create, a tight-knit band once more, with genre exploration learned and now with the wisdom to use it effectively.

At least that was the hope on Paul McCartney’s part. He somewhat succeeded too, Abbey Road officially the final studio album The Beatles recorded together as a band, though that wasn't the original intent. The creative conflicts that had led to the various gulfs between each member had simply grown too wide by '69 for any lasting truce, so it's all the more remarkable this album is as cohesive has it turned out. In the ultimate of compromises, side one features songs that, though not related to each other, at least fed off their rock and blues influences; side two would shoot for an album-orientated concept that Paul still wanted, in this case as a medley of short pieces.

I'll level with ya': for the longest time, I had no idea which Beatles songs were even on Abbey Road. Hell, some of the tunes that are on this record I didn't know were Beatles songs. I always thought Oh! Darling and You Never Give Me Your Money were Rolling Stone songs, while I Want You (She's So Heavy) sounds far more like something the progressive rock camps were churning out at the time, including a lengthy runtime for any rock tune of the day (nearly eight minutes!). I'd heard it plenty of times on the classic rock station, but never clued in this aggressive song was from the same group that once did Help! and Norwegian Wood. Plus, that Moog. When did The Beatles ever use a got'dang Moog when there was maybe a half-dozen in existence at the time? Oh Harrison, and your never-ending search for weird instruments. The big ones, however, are Come Together, Something, and Here Comes The Sun. I guess Carry That Weight’s memorable too as a sing-along anthem, and folksy Octopus’s Garden is so corny that it wins you right over.

Of course, the lasting impression everyone has with Abbey Road is that cover. It just might be the most famous photo shoot The Beatles ever did, inspiring many to replicate it themselves. Oh yes, along with all the other things the Liverpool Four innovated, you can include creating the first Rock Meme to that list. Probably.

Yes - Relayer

Atlantic: 1974/1995

Holy cow, another rock album? That's, what, four in the last week alone? Who'd have thought the letter 'R' would hold so much of the stuff. This time out, we return to the realms of prog rock, that most pretentious of all rock 'n' roll forms. It's been a while since I last dealt with a Yes LP, and hoo-wee, is it ever a doozy. The band had just come off the Topographic Oceans tour, though more of a slog should you hear Rick Wakeman describe it. The album in support has long been considered the exact moment prog rock had transcended cleverness into self-parody, which isn't entirely accurate – after all, the '80s still loomed. But yes, a double-LP with four songs running twenty-plus minutes each was overboard, especially when tied to such a nebulous theme as- You know what, forget it. Explaining it would eat up two reviews alone.

With Relayer however, Yes decided another musical challenge was required, this time tackling nothing less than Tolstoy’s epic War and Peace, while adding jazz-fusion into their prog-rocky mix. Wait, where are you going? No, this is awesome, I swear it is! The main song on here, The Gates Of Delirium, is broader in its war theme than a chronicle of Napoleon’s campaign against the Tsars – it could be any ol’ battle, heck even a Tolkien conflict! Roger Dean’s cover art suggests more of a fantasy setting than any place on Earth, and I get something of a Wizards vibe from the piece too. And if Led Zepplin can make music about hobbits with cred’ intact, why not Yes? Oh yeah, that Topographics thing. They’ll never live that one down.

The Gates Of Delirium though, aw man, is this ever a beast of a tune. It starts out all jaunty and chipper, soldiers calm and ready to head off for battle, the music soon changing into a strident march. Some eight minutes in, everything grows urgent, the pace picking up, and all sorts of crazy jams, sounds, crashes, rhythms, guitar squalls and utter chaos ensues, a glorious psychedelic freak-out that explodes into triumphant bombast, Steve Howe’s Telecasters soaring high and proud after a hard fought victory. Following that, the song goes calm, quiet, and soothing, a steel pedal guitar gliding about like a KLF ambient moment (wait...). I guess this is the peace that follows war, though the way Jon Anderson sings, it sounds more like beaten warriors have ascended heaven. Interpretations obviously vary.

The other two tracks are Sound Chaser, a total rock-jazz-psych-prog jam-out with a kick-ass guitar solo (seriously, Howe was on fire on this album – guess he was anxious to try out his new toys). Plus, a charming ditty in To Be Over, a pleasant enough outing (more steel pedal!), but comes off overindulgent for my liking – yes, on an album that features a bloody war re-enactment. Still, The Gates Of Delirium is one of the essentials of prime-era Yes, easily worth the price of admission.

The Future Sound Of London - Environment Five

fsoldigital.com: 2014

Considering the seemingly endless volumes of From The Archives and, to a lesser extent, Environments, The Future Sound Of London must have had shed-fulls of unused material stored. At least with Environments, they gradually sprinkled in some new stuff too, helping create distinctive album narratives between each edition. And now finally - finally - Dougans and Cobain either found enough inspiration to craft an entirely new album of fresh music under the FSOL banner, or they've used up their entire backlog.

I’ll get the bad news regarding that out of the way: as we’re dealing entirely with post-millennial FSOL here, you bet your bottom dollar Environment Five goes deep into the psychedelic bubble, an attribute that has made their Amorphous Androgynous material a bit of a chore for all but the most dedicated listeners. No, wait a second, that’s not bad news in the slightest! Why shoulda musically dynamic duo remain stuck making tunes they hashed out two decades hence? They can’t very well go around claiming themselves the Future Sound Of London if they don’t keep pushing themselves in finding what future sounds they can craft (for London). Going avant-garde psychedelic-classicalism is good news!

The better-good news is, as Environment Five is all new material, it means Dougans and Cobain had a specific theme in mind while composing this album. Not that the previous Environments lacked themes, but those felt cobbled together - tracks served in creating general moods or milieus, but having little to do with each other. Five, on the other hand, flows like an album proper, with lengthy set pieces, short quiet interludes, and musical ideas and leitmotifs sprinkled throughout. Seriously, they sure love using that... saxophone? I think it’s a saxophone, but knowing these guys, it could be a Tibetan reed-woodwind that only sounds like a saxophone, or even an overlay of the two.

Anyhow, the PR blurbs described Environment Five as an exploration of death. No, not in a morbid, goth manner – there’s more sense of spiritual awakening and contemplation with the music here, as though death is a release from our limited, mortal shells, with realms both grand and humbling awaiting us to explore. Definitely an ambitious venture, and the music does offer tantalizing glimpses. There’s sombre pianos (Source Of Uncertainty, Viewed From Below The Surface), minimalist electro-dub (Machines Of The Subconscious), ethno-fusion baroque (Dying While Being Held), creepy cinematic ambient (Beings Of Light, The Dust Settles), future-shock freak-outs (Somatosensory), and jubilant psychedelic world-beat (In Solitude We Are Least Alone).

Honestly though, this concept of ‘death experiences’ isn’t iron-clad, at least compared to some of FSOL’s earlier concept albums (Lifeforms, Dead Cities). It’s nice they gave us something to latch onto if we’re so inclined, but as a collection of new The Future Sound Of London musics, it’s an enjoyable play-through regardless. Well, so long as you’re not still clinging to Papua New Guinea retreads. Let some of those prog rocks jams worm their way into your eternal being, guy.

Toto - Dune (Original Soundtrack)

Polydor: 1984

Even as a kid, I had a handle on most sci-fi movies of the '80s. Star Wars and Star Trek, ain't no th'ang. Higher concept movies like 2010 and The Terminator? Perfectly fine. Dune? Uh... what's going on? A bunch of talky-talk by faux-European space-cultures, plus a slug in a giant, gassy tube. And hey, Captain Picard's in this too! That's awesome! Then people go to Dune, some more stuff happens, a cool sequence with a giant worm goes down, a battle against guys with weird outfits and Sting happens, and oh man I haven't a clue anymore.

Turns out my confuddlement over Dune wasn't just youthful naivety. When I sat down to watch the flick beginning to end as an adult, it still didn't make much sense, though I could at least appreciate the visual design. Costumes, sights, sets, and more from the movie became fixtures in not only geek culture, but even the rave scene, dialog samplers frequently raiding Dune for quotables. Whatever faults the movie had on a narrative level, you couldn’t deny its enduring style.

Same can be said for Toto’s soundtrack. Bringing on the prog-rock conglomerate to score a sci-fi epic sounds utterly daft, but that’s par for the course for director David Lynch. The group didn’t let him down either, the Main Title theme’s epic, soaring sombre strings one of sci-fi’s most recognizable leitmotifs. Elsewhere, the mysterious Trip To Arrakis perfectly captures the eerie surreal setting of spice-based ‘folding space’ travel, while the gentle Paul Meets Chani’s a lovely romantic theme that’s sadly squandered on a barely existent plot thread. And speaking of squandered music, I can’t be the only one that’s disappointed in the shortened Big Battle piece, an exhilarating and triumphant marching reiteration of the Main Title that classically camps out at the climax with operatic choirs and squalling guitars.

Toto being a rock group though, they had to worm in some standards too. Take My Hand sounds way fucking ‘80s, but not so bad as Dune (Desert Theme), where I picture the likes of Yanni in the studio rather than Toto. I suppose Take My Hand is fine for a credit roll (where even characters that barely had two scenes and served no purpose got their mug shot in over rolling sea waves ...wait, why’s there an ocean at the end of a movie called Dune? I’m confuddled again), but Desert Theme doesn’t fit anywhere in the context of this CD. Yes, including one where the clanking Robot Fight mixes in from the Main Title.

Whatever. We all know the true highlight of Dune doesn’t even involve Toto; rather, it’s the Eno-Lanois-Eno piece Prophecy Theme. Rumour has it Brian Eno had done an unofficial score too, this haunting bit of lush ambience the only remaining evidence of such. One can only imagine how that would have turned out, though I suspect Eno being Eno, we wouldn’t have quite as many classic musical cues as Toto provided. Grace in subtlety, right?

Tool - Ænima

Zoo Entertainment: 1996

Coming into Tool raw is well-nigh impossible, preconceived notions formed well before ever hearing the first rumble of Danny Carey’s drum kit, sludgy distortion of Adam Jones’ guitar, or billowing self-pity of Maynard James Keenan. Dammit, see what I mean? Without playing a single Tool song, I already know of the band’s tendency towards the musically proficient and lyrically po-faced bollocks, information gleaned through peer osmosis. For during their two-decade career, a reverent fanbase developed, one that wastes no time in preaching the Tool-Gospel of the band’s brilliance, and vehemently attacking anyone that presents such dissenting opinions like Tool are just okay, or not the brilliant song-writers legend purports. Thank God I’m way out here in the internet hinterlands, eh?

I figured there’d be some chance I’d like Tool if I gave them a chance, what with being known as ‘prog-metal’ pioneers and all. Well hey, I do like some prog (house or rock) and metal has its moments of awesome too. After giving Ænima three solid chances at winning me over, however, it’s safe to say I’ll never willingly listen to this band again. There’s simply too much nothing going on in this music for me to invest further.

Wait, that’s not accurate. The first half of Ænima contains several enjoyable heavy rock moments. Stinkfist’s hook has great thrashy bits, Eulogy’s even better and builds wonderfully from a quiet start to raucous climax, while Forty Six & 2 and Hooker With A Penis hold my attention with neat sounding guitar tones and drumming. Beyond that though, songs endlessly sludge along with staid musical passages, show-off bridges, and angst-ridden sentiments I grew out of ages ago (if I had them to begin with). The titular cut and a couple skits aside (mmm, ‘Satan’s Balls’…), the back half of Ænima drags with hardly any payoff. A perfect example comes in Pushit, where the band briefly switches to an urgent time-signature, suggesting an oncoming awesome build of tear-out metal; instead, they instantly retreat to a dithering quiet bit that goes on forever. Meanwhile, my thoughts wander to better metal and prog-rock like Pantera or Yes.

What caught me most off-guard though, was how grunge these tunes are – quiet, mumbly singing followed by loud shouting parts (and always unintelligible, buried in the mix). Granted, it’s due to Tool’s reputation as a metal band, but learning of their grunge roots, I totally get their appeal now. All those Holden Caulfields of the ‘90s alternative rock scene, desperate for heavy music that wasn’t so commercial and phony, found kinship in Keenan’s outlook, with challenging music to match. Throw in sound experiments cribbed from the industrial scene and weird, creepy visual accompaniments in videos and tours, and you’ve a grunge album unlike any other before, one that tried taking the genre down daring, new (progressive?) roads. A bold move on Tool’s part, for sure, one they could have pulled off on Ænima, if they’d spent more time on song-craft than technical masturbation.

Banco de Gaia - Memories Dreams Reflections (2014 Update)

Disco Gecko: 2009

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

I promise this is the last Banco de Gaia for a good long while. Pinky-swearsie, I do! Well, until that 20th anniversary edition of Maya arrives in the mail. Or Mr. Marks happens to release another album with a title falling within my alphabetical stipulation. Beyond that though, it’ll be a long time, for sure a very long time.

What wasn't so long ago was the release of Memories Dreams Reflections; at least, it doesn't feel that long ago. Four-point-five years though, that's practically a lifetime in raver years. Heck, most give up on 'the scene' in that amount of time. I sure didn't, but then, coming of age in the hinterlands of Canada didn't provide much opportunity for the quick, burn-out turnaround many go through. Actual parties were few and far between, whereas the big cities often got away with one every weekend. By the time I got to a big city with such a scene (Vancouver), it was on the downswing, most of the old-schoolers having moved on or found new homes in the ‘classier’ club scene (woo, legal alcohol!). In re-branding raves as ‘music festivals’, we’re seeing the upswing of a new generation , but if the typical reveler lifespan holds true, the first wave of burn-outs will start in short order, if not already.

What of the hold-outs, though? What keeps us going to these events, listening to this music? I’ve often asked myself this, and the answer always comes back to the search for that ‘perfect’ party. Sometimes it’s a desire to re-capture something from one’s youth, other times it’s a hope to experience it just once, but in the end, there’s long been a romanticism associated with losing oneself to the all-night dance. A proper refuge for the ostracized of society, a rebellion against mainstream conformity, escapism – it’s why electronic music always retreats back to the underground after flirtations with commercial success, as the very concept of the culture is directly counter to what society deems proper behavior (work your job, raise your family, watch your TV, etc.). Those who still partake in this scene often find a way of balancing the two, either making club culture their primary job (DJs, musicians, promoters), or only going to select events they feel will come as close to being their idea of a ‘perfect’ party as any; for yours truly, I’m definitely of the latter sort.

I suppose, on some sub-conscious level, that’s why I’ve been systematically going through all the music I’ve gathered: an attempt at piecing together my time involved with electronic music’s ever-evolving scene. What’s lead me down the musical paths I’ve taken? Why do I find some genres more favorable than others? Could things have been different if I’d been exposed to different parties and music? Why didn’t other counter-culture music, like punk or metal, appeal in a similar fashion?

Yeah, sorry there’s nothing ‘updated’ in this post. Guess I took the whole Memories Dreams Reflections concept to heart this time.

Squarepusher - Just A Souvenir

Warp Records: 2008

You have to feel a bit sorry for all those pioneering IDM wonks from the '90s. They set the bar of ingenuity so bloody high in such a short period of time, that the expectation for them to continuously keep topping themselves would eventually be a futile effort. Not that they would feel the pressure to do so, of course, but some creativity burn-out would have to set in if they didn't explore other music for a while. So while some weren't too keen on Tom Jenkinson taking his Squarepusher guise closer to proper jazz-fusion realms (real instruments, what!?), in the long run it was probably for the best, letting him recharge before his braindance stuff wore itself out.

Still, he’d done his ‘jazz album’ with Music Is Rotted One Note, so even that could be expected of him, especially a full decade following it (ten year celebration! ...or is this just a coincidence?). So how about rock fusion then? Surely ol’ Tom could list several psychedelic and garage-fuzz jam works as inspiration too (much of it came out around the same time as Miles Davis’ peak). Yeah, sure, whatever, you’ve earned your right for musical self-indulgence, Mr. Jenkinson, by all means show us what you got in your one-man band cadre.

Well, not right away, it turns out on Just A Souvenir. The first few tracks are on more familiar ground, like the spritely space-funk works Star Time 2 and The Coathanger, while A Real Woman sounds more like what those late-‘70s avant garde French acts would kick out. Complete with vocoders? I’m sold! Shame the whole album isn’t like this, but the rest is good fun too, provided you have an ear for odd-ball jam-fusion music.

And you know it’s gonna be one of those when you hear that tell-tale tik-tik-tik of drum sticks at the opening. Then bass, guitar, drums, and occasional keyboards go at it, like some kind of demented punk outfit from a far-flung European province while wacked-out on acid. Though it’s just Squarepusher doing the music, you can almost imagine a three or four piece band giving their all on stage or in a garage. Considering there’s but one chap making all this racket, the music’s impressive enough that it sounds like there should be more there.

Yet, there’s something missing from Just A Souvenir that completes the illusion: it’s too tight. I’d imagine if this really was some long-lost psychedelic punk-jam band from the ‘70s, the music would come off even sloppier, wonderfully so; like the band members had all the inspiration in the world, but not quite the skill to pull it off, and you’d admire their gumption, if nothing else. As a musician and producer, Tom Jenkinson’s better than that, which has given him the chance to explore such diverse sonic avenues, but not the expertise to fully integrate into them. In the end, we all know what his bread-and-butter be, but thanks for the souvenir just the same.

Banco de Gaia - Igizeh

Six Degrees Records: 2000

Anyone recall hearing The Prodigy's Fat Of The Land for the first time? The initial anticipation of new music from an act you enjoy, but feeling content in the assumption they couldn't surprise you any longer? Remember how Smack My Bitch Up utterly abolished those preconceived notions? If you're feelin' what I'm preachin' here, my friends, then you'll have an inclining of how I reacted to hearing Seti I on Banco de Gaia's fifth album.

I'm by no means comparing the two tracks, as they're worlds apart (although they do both make use of an ethnic vocalization). In terms of how they kicked off their respective albums, however, and how they represent everything good about the producers behind them, they're quite similar. At first ear-glance, Seti I works a slow-building atmosphere with oodles of nature samples and chants. A stomping rhythm emerges, and a ridiculously catchy vocal hook joins in. For the duration, this tune absolutely gets the blood pumping. I don't think Toby Marks has ever opened another album stronger than Igizeh, yet Seti I is barely known; heck, it didn't even make it to his 10 Years retrospective or other such collections. So, um, I guess the Prodigy comparison ends there.

Since Seti I wasn’t a single from an album that saw at least two, Igizeh must be an astounding album. Eh, it's good, but not that good. It's actually a rather curious one when you consider the context it came out in. As odd as it sounds, the album finds Marks doing a fair bit of bandwagon jumping, yet somehow maintaining his distinctive sound throughout. The first single, Obsidian, appears to borrow quite a bit from progressive trance, with the (barely comprehensible) vocals from Jennifer Folker lending it further to something far more commercial than you'd ever expect from Banco de Gaia (until You Are Here anyway). One could say the same about the new version of Glove Puppet, a dead-ringer and mint take on trip-hop. Meanwhile, second-single How Much Reality Can You Take has elements of big beat, a notion not gone unnoticed by Jack Dangers when he remixed the tune.

Those were the popular genres of the time (or from a couple years back anyway), but Igizeh features further musical adoption than that. Fake It Till You Make It finds Marks and company going about as full-on Pink Floyd as they ever did back in those days. Gizeh adds Moog funk to their characteristic grand musical builds (Egyptian slave revolutions never sounded so epic!). And B2 sounds like, well, Banco de Gaia did during the early ambient dub days, but with a fresh year-2000 sheen.

So in a roundabout way, Igizeh might have ended up being Banco's most accessible album, but those proggy world-beat attributes didn't quite make it so. The style Marks' project cultivates keeps this firmly on the underground side of music, though as far as 'electronica' albums go, it's remarkably diverse. A bit like that Prodigy album, come to think of it.

Yes - Fragile

Atlantic/Rhino Records:1971/2003

Generally considered the best Yes album, but only if you’ve a passing fancy for the ‘70s prog rock style. The super-long, technical mastery of later albums is only hinted at here, with more radio-friendly melodies spaced out between sonic doodles each member got to indulge themselves with. There are still long songs, but nothing eating up one side of an LP record - half of one, yes, definitely.

This was also their most commercially successful album under the ‘classic’ ‘70s lineup, and with a lead song like Roundabout, it’s easy to hear why. The hook is introduced almost immediately, and even though the actual melody only gets repeated a few times thereafter, you can’t wait for Jon Anderson to sing “I’ll be the round about;” again. Perfect tune for your rock radio stations, and even better for the DJs playing it in need of a bathroom break, as the whole thing lasts eight-plus minutes. At the other end of the album is Heart Of The Sunrise, a true technical masterpiece of every band member jamming, soloing, blah blah blah. Hey, I love this tune, but I’ve been spoiled by live renditions of it, and the album version sounds stiff and tinny compared to them. That’s my bias, but don’t let it be yours! (unless you prefer Heart Of The Sunrise live as well - if so, *fist bump*)

If it seems like I’m glossing over what everyone but fans of ‘80s Yes considers their best, it’s because there ain’t a damned thing I can say about it that hasn’t been said forever. All I can offer of insight are the few little things that readers of a (mostly) electronic music blog might be interested in, and ridiculously talented musicianship probably doesn’t register too high on such a list. I should know, I used to be like that!

Anyhow, Fragile was the album Rick Wakeman made his debut with the group, and everywhere you can hear the classically trained keyboard virtuoso’s influence. A solo ditty with Cans And Brahms seems inspired by that Carlos character’s work, great organ sounds in Heart Of The Sunrise, and lovely piano diddling on South Side Of The Sky. That kid, he can play him some keyboards. Even Jack Black gives him a nod of approval in School Of Rock, and that guy’s only known for stupid-fun cock rock! (also of note: Roger Dean’s Yes artwork debuts here as well, who’s psychedelic sci-fantasy style would become as synonymous with the band as anything music related would)

In a nutshell, Fragile is a fine introduction to the group and what they’re capable of on both ends of the music spectrum. If you want more musical mastery, dig deeper into their other ‘70s output; catchy hooks, their ‘80s. If you want just a little more convincing on Fragile, check out perma-member Chris Squire’s solo piece The Fish. For a bass guitar track, sweet Jesus does it ever have some awesome, trippy sounds in it!