Flying Lotus - Until The Quiet Comes

Warp Records: 2012

Probably not the best album to get one’s ears wet with Flying Lotus, this. Even in his modest outings, the dude takes a rather challenging approach to his beat work and song craft, finding confounding ways of manipulating conventional funk, hip-hop, soul, and the jazz that fuses them together (say what?). It’s definitely a style that will get you noticed by all the talking-head rags out there, forever eager in discovering and hyping a unique approach to familiar music, and FlyLo fast became a critical darling in the mid-‘00s. By second LP, he was signed to Warp Records, and as the praise steadily increased, so did Mr. Ellison’s desire to challenge himself. Thus we arrive at his fourth album, Until The Quiet Comes, a point when he has nothing left to prove to anyone but his own musical ambition. Oh yeah, we’re getting into Serious Artist territory with this one.

Of course, the notion of Flying Lotus getting a pile of Real Musicians in the studio with him first germinated with his previous album, Cosmogramma. That was more a feeling-out process though, taking the abstract-hop and broken funk that defined his earlier work and seeing if it could work in a traditional band setting (well, as traditional as jazz-fusion gets). Those results must have satisfied FlyLo, as he takes things even further here, trying out more genre-fusion, with more musicians in the studio, and more tracks filling out the album! Okay, only one more track, but still, MOAR!

Names returning for this session include Flying Lotus mainstays bassist Thundercat, harpist Rebekah Raff, stringster Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, vocalist Laura Darlington, and Brit-warbler Thom Yorke. Coming in for the Quiet Comes party are keyboardist Austin Peralta, other-keyboardist Brandon Coleman, drummer Jean Coy, and soul-Goddess Eryakah Badu. Geez, how does one top that in a follow-up - a hot contemporary rapper, or an actual jazz legend on the keyboards? (yep, and FlyLo done did it in You’re Dead!).

And as for the music on Until The Quiet Comes …look, we all know this is the sort of stuff musicians make just to annoy folks who like dancing about architecture [citation needed]. I can tell you that Tiny Tortures has a minimalist, blippy thing going on, or that The Nightcaller stomps out the spaced-out P-funk vibes, or that Phantasm oozes and creeps about in dreamy psychedelic-pop, but how helpful are such descriptors in a record such as this? Tracks come and go at such an erratic, rapid pace; few have much chance of sinking in before you’re trying to peel the musical layers of the next tune. Some pieces thematically meld together so well, you won’t even notice a clutch of tracks have played past, whereas others shift tones so suddenly it’ll give your cochlea whiplash.

I do come back to Until The Quiet Comes every so often, just to hear if I can pick out any additional nuance that slipped by before. Should casual music listening be such like homework, though?

Various - United DJs Of America Volume 17: Scott Hardkiss (Original TC Review)

DMC: 2001

(2017 Update:
One of the very, very, very few perfect scores I gave out while writing for TranceCritic, and I still stand by it. Admittedly, what Scott Hardkiss does here probably isn't as impressive these days what with digital DJing making eclectic sets like these much easier to produce. Heck, such CDs were quite marketable and profitable for a short while a number of years back, kitchen-sink sets earning all the critical plaudits. Just makes Scott's effort here all the more remarkable having done it on vinyl, practically in spite of scene hype focusing its attention elsewhere.

Sadly, Scott passed away some four years ago now. Before then, he'd finally released a full-length album in 2009 called Technicolor Dreamer, all the while continuing to put out singles and working the DJ circuit until the end. Truly one of San Francisco's legends, taken far too soon.)

IN BRIEF: More house than a suburban district.

United DJs Of America: remember this series? If not, don’t feel too bad - it’s understandable. Despite having a number of highly respected names tied to it (Bones, Bambaataa, Knuckles, Vega, Farina, Craze… loads more), DMC had difficulty maintaining a consistent distributor, flopping around on several during its eight year run. In the end, it folded when the American dance industry entered a mild recession in the year of ‘03.

Shame, then, that San Francisco based DJ/producer Scott Hardkiss should be offered a go at this series so late in its run. Most likely know Hardkiss as that guy behind God Within and White Dove, but he was mixing up acid, breaks, and house on the West Coast scene for longer than that. As something of a recluse from the spotlight, he never quite broke out the way many of his peers did. And when finally given the opportunity to do so, his contribution to the United DJs legacy went largely unnoticed. And that, my friends, is an even bigger shame, as Hardkiss put together possibly one of the finest mixes the series ever saw.

For all its resilience and ace talent, the quality of United DJs often varied. It wasn’t uncommon for a classic release to be followed with an achingly average one, often due to the limitations DJs put themselves in by sticking to their chosen styles. Hardkiss, though, is a wildly eclectic DJ, and wouldn’t be satisfied with settling for a few forms of house. So, he went and made a mix with all of them!

Well, not all of them. Deep house is absent because this isn’t the kind of set for it. Electro house is obviously uninvited to this party either, since this release comes before that sound had really emerged. And of course euro-house is just too poppy. But yeah ...everything else - prog, acid, disco, tech; it’s all here.

So if this is such a varied mix, why did it go unnoticed? First impressions can go a long way, and in this case the opening tracks may have turned many away. Hardkiss starts with prog, and in 2001 this stuff was everywhere, with many sets sounding no different from the next. You’d be forgiven for dismissing this as Just Another Prog Mix based on the beginning.

But unlike many prog sets that drag with tension builders and transition tracks due to the room of two discs, Hardkiss knows he has far less time to get everything he wants in the seventy-four minutes a single CD offers. With no wasted meanderings, he mixes into his trademark funky acid house with Electric Skychurch’s Liberty and peaks the trip with a kaleidoscope of bubbly psychedelia in is rub of Tom Chasteen’s Freedom. And soon after that, we’re off into a festive atmosphere with The Heartists’ Bolo Horizonti, where Hardkiss gives a nod to New York as well with David Morales’ remix of the same track right afterwards.

You’d think these quick transitions between such different types of house (we’ve gone through at least four by the mid-way mark) would clash with abrupt mixes, yet Hardkiss keeps things flowing just fine, each track complementing the next without sounding forced. By contrast, a number of DJ mixes that attempt house sets of this nature sound like an MP3 player put on Random. Either it’s a testament to his skill as a DJ, or most other DJs have just grown lazy over the years by sticking with only a couple styles.

The house music continues jumping all over the place as the set carries on: funk is brought in courtesy of C-Mos’ 6-2 Young; having earned our trust with his track selection thus far, Hardkiss gets away with the goofy fun of Plastika and Conga Squad’s Disco Rockin’; energetic tech injects a dose of adrenaline with Jark Prongo’s Rocket Bass (and yes, that is Push It sampled there); good-natured hip-house from Armand van Helden and Common take us out with class; and sprinklings of San Francisco’s disco funk fill in the gaps.

Critiques then. Surely there has to be something that doesn’t hold up on this half-a-decade old set. Honestly, there’s very little worth criticizing here: track arrangement is superb and the mixing is mostly unobtrusive. A couple technical issues pop up but hardly hinder; in fact, it adds to the charm of this set, giving it a rawer live feeling and thus making Hardkiss’ few DJ tricks all the more engaging. And even if you don’t fancy house music, you’ll nonetheless enjoy the positive San Fran vibes that ooze from these tracks.

Steady readers of this website probably realize these five-star ratings are rare, but Hardkiss’ foray has everything we look for in a release that earns it: diversity, creativity, and - most importantly - enjoyable engagement from start to finish. Don’t miss out on this overlooked gem.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved

Sound Of Ceres - Nostalgia For Infinity

Joyful Noise Recordings: 2016

It had to happen eventually, genre lines so blurred these days as to fool even studious record store clerks. Yet maybe shoegaze has come far along in its development that it’s abandoned all pretense of being part of the Rock Domain, more content hanging out with dorky ‘electronica’ folk. This may just be the new normal, stumbling upon ‘dream pop’ where I typically hunt for techno and jungle. Still sends a strange shiver over my shoulder though, music that once was out in the indie racks now sneaking into my unsuspecting ears.

Gads, what an incredibly narrow-minded take on music. What if there is something in shoegaze pop that could win me over? Hey, I don’t doubt there is, but it’s not high on my bucket list. Truthfully, I’d probably have never given Sound Of Ceres a chance if I had any prior knowledge of them, or even took a pre-listen in the shop, their tunes just not what I was after that sunny day in Seattle.

But nay, I went in blind, lured by the intriguing cover art and suggested promise of music with a cosmic bent. Such was the idea behind this particular band anyway, the genesis of Karen and Ryan Hover looking to expand their earlier dream pop work as Candy Claws into something grander. It certainly is that, Nostalgia For Infinity the sort of thickly layered shoegaze that’s instantly catchy to the ear, yet contains so many little details, there’s always something new to hear with each playback. Eh, that’s part of the Sound Of Ceres manifesto too? Ah yes, the concept of ‘five orbits’, as presented in the album’s liner notes, each sonic layer a descending orbit for the listener to traverse. I can’t tell if that’s artistically pretentious, or musically playful. All shoegaze is like this, isn’t it?

Still, it’s a concept I can buy into. At first impression, Sound Of Ceres does the dream pop thing as fine as I’ve ever heard (disclaimer: not a whole lot), with Karen’s wispy floating vocals almost subsumed by layers of reverb. I have to pay actual attention if I’m to decipher her lyrics, after which I start noticing finer details in the instrumentation (guitar tones, electro drum kits, field recordings, retro synths, plucky electronics). For the most part, it feels like I’m listening to a long lost slice of Boomer psychedelic pop, all the folksy Americana of Brian Wilson’s best work, but fed through an idealistic, introspective lens with modern production chops. Oh, and final track Dagger Only Run reminds me a lot of Gorillaz’ Empire Ants - very similar cascading synth arp between the two. Or is that just a dream pop staple regardless? I honestly don’t know.

Maybe one day I’ll learn all there is to know of this genre. For now though, Sound Of Ceres provided a pleasant diversion from my same ol’, same ol’. In fact, it came off too sunny for this particular month. Must return to next April.

Jam & Spoon - Tripomatic Fairytales 2002 (2016 Update)

Epic: 1993

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

This CD, too. Truly, one of the earliest examples of artist hubris in dance music culture. Either that, or this was the true musical style of Jam & Spoon, and Tripomatic Fairytales 2001 was the commercial sell-out to earn those sweet chart-topping dolla’ bills so they had artistic freedom from there on out. Considering the sort of music Misters Ellmer and Löffel continued making after this, however, I’m kinda’ going with the former. More pop pieces on future albums Kaleidoscope and Tripomatic Fairytales 3003. Happy hardcore as Tokyo Ghetto Pussy. And let’s not forget Jam’s various commercial projects prior and concurrent with his work alongside Markus. Nay, these chaps definitely had their ears trained for the pop end of the dance music spectrum, making Tripomatic Fairytales 2002 all the more an anomaly within their mutual discographies.

That they always had these ideas floating in their heads but never the commercial clout to see them blossom until this album is the most likely scenario. Another possibility is they were specifically commissioned to make a record of experimental ambient and dub, an utterly daft theory until you realize they initially had a record deal with seminal Belgium techno print R & S Records. Obviously they had greater success with German print Dance Pool, but the first Jam & Spoon EPs - Tales From A Danceographic Ocean and The Complete Stella - were with R & S. Fast forward to Album Time, and that deal is still in effect, Tripomatic Fairytales 2001 released by R & S within Belgium while Dance Pool dealt with the rest of Europe; Epic handled N. American distribution. You may recall R & S also had a spiffy new sub-label called Apollo, dealing with that new-fangled ‘ambient techno’ genre one Aphex Twin practically invented. Lo and behold, here’s Tripomatic Fairytales 2002 coming out on said sub-label within Belgium. The theory fits! Meanwhile, Dance Pool handled the rest of Europe’s copies, and N. America never got one, because who on this continent would ever be interested in druggy ambient from a pair of German euro-dance and trance producers (me, me!).

Given the more leftfield pieces on 2001 and the way out of field pieces on 2002, one question does keep nagging my mind: who was the overriding muse between these two? I’ve no doubt Jam & Spoon had a fair bit of creative synergy between the two of them, but a lot of the psychedelia involved here strikes me as a singular source of inspiration. While I can see both collaborating on the lengthy tracks like N.A.S.A. Nocturnal Audio Sensory Awakening and I Saw The Future, a totally experimental piece like LSD Nikon or meditative ambience of Salinas Afternoon had to have been the work of one or the other. But who, I wonder, and where they’d even get their ideas from in the first place. Can’t deny I’d love to meet Mr. El Mar just to ask that. Also, what the deal is with that omelet track.

Various - Transmissions From The Planet Dog

Mammoth Records: 1995

Planet Dog was doing well for itself within their motherland. Legendary festivals, highly touted roster of genre-bending musicians, nods of approval from famed DJs like Sasha and John Peel. Finding a Stateside distributor was inevitable, but going with Mammoth Records was an odd choice. The print out of Carrboro, North Carolina was primarily a rock outlet, dealing with alternative, industrial, and indie. Some of their more successful acts included Machines Of Loving Grace, Seven Mary Three, Squirrel Nut Zipper, Kill Creek, Vanilla Trainwreck, and The Bats. I’m sure they are all perfectly wonderful bands in perfectly wonderful scenes, but yeah, drawing a big ol’ blank on most of these. But then, I’m sure most Americans were drawing big ol’ blanks on names like Eat Static and Banco de Gaia, so to help their Planet Dog chums from across the Atlantic, Mammoth released this double-disc primer featuring the label’s biggest acts (re: those who’d released a full LP).

As such, CD1 of Transmissions From The Planet Dog is hopelessly redundant where my own collection is concerned. Essentially the Eat Static/Banco showcase, it borrows three tracks from Abduction, two from Implant, three from Maya, plus a remix of Qurna that was used in most live versions of the song anyway. They didn’t pluck the best Maya tracks either, and though I don’t have Eat Static’s Implant, the two tracks they have here didn’t inspire me to rush out for that record. But hey, if you need a cheat-sheet of both early careers, this CD does a decent job.

For my money though, the highlight is CD2, where Timeshard and Children Of The Bong get to strut their stuff. Granted, the same problem remains, in that if you already have the albums from which these tracks came from, it’s another wholly redundant collection of tunes. Hell, half of Timeshard’s debut album is on here! On the other hand, Children Of The Bong’s contributions are pretty rare for the three tracks you get, one coming from an early tape-only release, and another found on an obscure, non-Feed Your Head Planet Dog compilation.

Even so, considering both Timeshard and Children Of The Bong didn’t last much longer beyond the compilation, their back-catalog grew rather difficult to procure, making Transmissions From The Planet Dog one of the few places you could find their music anymore. And believe me, these guys are worth checking out if you fancy yourself the psychedelic side of electronic music. This is psy dub before the genre really had much demarcation or boundaries for itself, fearless in whatever sounds, instruments, and influences were thrown into the pie. Electro rhythms in acid-drenched Ionospheric State? Go for it! Epic sojourns of mystic lands across the shores of Space Goa? Crystal Oscillations got yo’ back! Ultra spliff haze as dubbed out in Symbol I? Groovy, man. Woozy acid-dub while jamming with Ravi and Jimi? Only with Oracle. Considering how polished psy dub turned after the millennium, it’s refreshing hearing some so deliciously crusty.

The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour

Capitol Records/Parlaphone: 1967/1987

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Beatles fan. Um… oh geez, how to justify this one? True, it’s got some of the Liverpool Four’s all-time classics in Strawberry Fields Forever, All You Need Is Love, and I Am The Walrus, but that’s never been an essential selling point for all their other albums. If you just wanted the classics, you get the greatest hits packages, or the anthology box sets, or the anniversary collections, or the-

What I mean to say is, buying a Beatles album just for the chart topping singles isn’t necessary when gathered options already exist. One buys Beatles LPs for the full experience, a playback from start to finish as the lads intended. They’d proved an album need not be big tunes with cover filler, where Rubber Soul, Revolver, and especially Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band kept improving upon the LP format. In fact, the Beatles had perfected the idea of a concept album so brilliantly with Sgt. Pepper’s that odds were they could only have gone down from there. Maybe it was best, then, to offer the inevitable slip with the soundtrack of Magical Mystery Tour, a film project that was practically doomed from the start.

A whimsical bus tour across the English countryside might have succeeded with an actual script on hand, but McCartney, inspired by super-hippie Ken Kesey’s similar bus tour across America, hoped to capture the spontaneity of such gleeful weirdness. Compounding the problems was how their wacky shenanigans were filmed in colour, but broadcast on BBC1, which primarily featured shows in black and white. Thus Magical Mystery Tour premiered as a muddy mess in British homes, on Boxing Day no less, when folks probably weren’t interested in drug-fueled Beatles zaniness. The film was such a flop that it never featured in American cinemas (too short), and was basically jettisoned from archives, none of the original negatives saved. It was the first sign that the mighty Beatlesmania machine could have some chinks in its sturdy armor.

The music though. No matter the faults of the film, surely the tunes provided would be of equal measure to their impeccable discography. Can’t deny that bombastic titular opener, a tune carrying on the Sgt. Pepper’s tradition of throwing any and all ideas into a single three-minute explosion of psychedelic rock. The Fool On The Hill goes more folk, Flying is a pure instrumental, Blue Jay Way goes suuuper-deep in the psychedelia (Flange! Reverse tape loops! Eastern bollocks!), Your Mother Should Know is a bouncy bit of ragtime, and I Am The Walrus is Lennon at his experimental nuttiest; but hey, what a catchy chorus!

All this, plus the included great singles that didn’t make it to Sgt. Pepper’s (aforementioned, plus Hello Goodbye, Penny Lane, and Baby You’re A Rich Man) makes Magical Mystery Tour a fascinating listen regardless. The songcraft remains, but boy were they pushing the limits of what a Beatles song could still be.

The Velvet Underground - The Best Of The Velvet Underground (Words And Music Of Lou Reed)

Verve Records: 1989

Nearly everything you may adore or abhor about the alternative and indie side of rock music can be traced to this band. Making music that bucks the prevailing trends? Velvet Underground. Cultivating an impossibly hip image? Velvet Underground. An essential name-dropped when discussing one’s influences? Velvet Underground. Pretentious rock band fan-cult origins, that’s existed ever since rock music’s existed? I dunno, maybe Grateful Dead, but hoo boy, does Velvet Underground ever have their doozies too. Tab Lou Reed’s original band as anything less than “revolutionary”, and you’ll be met with scorn only seen in Tool’s ranks, with essays and essays of just how wrong your opinion is. Not that you’d understand them of course, the VU simply much too forward-thinking for mere Beatles or Stooges fans to comprehend, even a half-decade now since debuting with that kinda’-sorta’-maybe mediocre singing model Nico. But that was the Point, see, that underneath her natural beauty was a flawed, beautiful artistic creature, and Andy Warhol was a genius for forcing her upon Lou Reed to expose these blemishes within…

Wow, see what I mean?

The thing is, compared to other seminal bands of the ‘60s, Velvet Underground don’t even have that large a fanbase. Their albums barely charted (even when they did), and it took Lou Reed’s 2013 death to give their debut with Nico a respectable bump up their all-time standing (though the 2003 Deluxe version did pretty good in the UK). Even this particular Best Of collection, released in 1989, when the indie scene was on the rise and even sporting a little cross-over action, failed to chart. Yeah, but this is still the indie scene we’re dealing with, consisting of a passionate but disproportionate fanbase compared to the radio consuming plebs of the world.

And the VU indoctrinated wouldn’t have it any other way. This band became the sleeper sensation they did because of how far under the radar they initially flew. They hailed from New York City, when all the action in the rock world was happening in California and the UK. They made noisy dirges for a burnout generation years before the comedown had begun in earnest. Their music took recognizable signifiers of blues rock, psychedelia, and folk, but never fully embraced them to be pigeon-holed into those scenes. At a time when studio albums with the latest in production trickery were becoming the norm, these guys were rough and hideously unpolished, almost sounding like a literal garage band with decent talent but no budget. Others were making allegories to acid and marijuana, Reed bluntly sung about heroin. Yeah, small wonder so many point to Velvet Underground as a proto-punk band, a group proving you could make a name for yourself despite little being in your favor.

So yes, listening to The Best Of Velvet Underground, I do get why they’ve earned the legend, the mythos, and the storied inspiration for so many others. Just, y’know, don’t be a twat when going on about them, ‘kay?

Gel-Sol - K8ema

Psychonavigation Records: 2010

I've already used up all my Gel-Sol background preamble and tasty tidbits of trivia in the review of IZ. What else is there to talk about regarding Mr. Reichel? This is the reason I'm going through my music collection in 'Album' alphabetical order, to keep each review relatively fresh and unique without falling into repetitive grinds. Typically I have enough time and space between artist albums that I'll have dug up some new details about their career, or find a fresh angle to approach a review from. And had I had both IZ and K8ema when they were new, I wouldn’t have this problem now, an entire letter buffering me between the two albums. Right, that letter is ‘J’, the puniest letters in my collection not named ‘Q’, but at least it’d be something. Man, why couldn’t I have stumbled upon Gel-Sol way back when. I had every opportunity to do so. But nay, tech-plodstep was more pressing to review in ye’ olde age of 2008.

Fortunately, the liner notes of K8ema have provided some details I wasn't privy to going into IZ. Yeah, yeah, maybe I should have read those before writing that review, but I'm trying to maintain the illusion of writing these shortly after I play 'em.

Anyhow, both of these albums were apparently written for Mr. Reichel’s nieces, IZ for an Izabella, and this here K8ema for one Katelyn Mae. D’aww. The first, I can hear, as IZ definitely had a lot of sentimentality flowing through its various ambient pieces. K8ema, on the other hand, is stated as a natural evolution of IZ, which means more interesting compositions, though not as much pleasantness little girls might like. In fact, this album is something of a mish-mash of various jam sessions Gel-Sol engaged with other Seattle producers, often using MIDI generators in crafting long, non-looping sequences of bleeps, zoops, diddlidoos, and other unpronounceable electronic sounds. Some tracks get very near musique concrete levels of non-musicality, but they always find a core of a theme to centre around. It’s a style of songcraft that isn’t too dissimilar to the abstract pieces Tangerine Dream were performing when they first started fiddling with synthesizers (and took me a stupid amount of time to realize that).

This helps make K8ema a more engaging playthrough than the uniformly similar IZ. You still have the pleasant synth pad pieces like Abyssinia, The Mechanical Garden, and Lost, but also sci-fi weirdness in tracks like Glade and Gel S’hole. Other pieces feel that krautrock psychedelic muse a’callin’ (Halo Of Stars, Energy Pools), while others aim for blissful peace vibes (Spirit Guide, Panta Rhei). And, just to remind you that this is a dedication to a wee waif, there’s an untitled final lullaby that sounds like it’s played on a electronic toy harpsichord. Double d’aww.

Really, the whole album plays out like one long song of various electronic improvisations, constantly fooling you where a‘proper’ track ends and begins. Fans of tripped-out FSOL definitely apply within.

The Chemical Brothers - Surrender

Astralwerks: 1999

The Chemical Brothers were kings of the big beat castle, a deserved title considering they practically built the damn thing themselves. A string of classic singles, two seminal albums, and a live show then unparalleled in electronic music, it'd take much to dethrone them. As the 20th Century neared its end, however, many would-be usurpers were storming the gates, ready to nab the crowns off Simons and Rowlands. The Crystal Method came with the pitchforks; Fatboy Slim with the battering ram; Junkie XL with the wire-fu crew; The Wiseguys with a donkey. The Chemical Brothers were seasoned veterans though, and ain't no way they’d go quietly into the night. They had their own counter-attack in the works, y'see, a third album ready to hit shelves with just as much aplomb as Exit Planet Dust and Dig Your Own Hole. Surely it would be another big beat masterpiece, proving once and for all they could never be knocked off their peak, their summit, their- No, wait, that's not right. They instead abandoned big beat altogether, releasing an LP of house and techno grooves. So that's why they named the album Surrender.

Really, The Chemie Bros had nothing to prove, deciding the time was right showing off other genres they could tackle. Making things easier in getting playlisted by all the very important progressive house DJs probably didn't hurt their decision either. Surrender thus comes with very simple caveats for all potential listeners: if you like their block rockin' beats and only their block rockin' beats, you won't dig this album. If you're a Chemical fan for life though - through the fun times and the 'artistic' ones – then you already have Surrender in your collection, don't you.

The more interesting question, then, is whether it was love at first listen, or it took some warming up to. I can't deny Surrender wasn't what I was expecting, especially with such a lacklustre lead single in Hey Boy, Hey Girl, at least compared to previous leads. I was also stupid burnt-out on The Chemical Brothers anyway, all the hype that went into Dig Your Own Hole necessitating a brief break from their sound. I think it was hearing the sub-whoofer demolishing Under The Influence on the WipEout 3 soundtrack that got me curious again. Video games can do that.

And there’s still vintage Chemical Brothers on here. Opener Music: Response has them big, beefy beats hitting, but this time coupled with some psychedelic electro. Let Forever Be once again teams up with Noel Gallagher as they forever chase The Beatles, while Asleep From Day, Dream On and the titular cut fear no starry-eyed sunrise at Glastonbury. On the other hand, Out Of Control sounds tailor made for the action movie crowd, The Sunshine Underground a massive festival climax, and Got Glint? a deep house club on acid (those claps!). All this is enough that I can vibe with Surrender on its own merits, a worthy capper to their trilogy of ‘90s albums.

David Bickley - Still Rivers At Night

Psychonavigation Records: 2006

Psychonavigation Records had a CD fire sale of their back-catalog over the summer, forcing me to splurge on a label as I've never splurged before. You bet that's generated a massive queue of music for my next alphabetical backtrack, to say nothing of the regular releases that have piled up during my sojourn of “S”. This here Still Rivers At Night from David Bickley is the first release of that label trawl that I'm finally reviewing, thus providing me with the opportunity to warn thee of the near future: there will be obscurity, oh yes.

I’m still stunned how Psychonavigation just sprung up out of seemingly nowhere a few years back, yet had been quietly going about its business throughout the ‘00s. Hell, I wonder if even they realized they’d have such a turnaround, given the rather sedate release schedule of their first decade in existence. Take this release, with a catalogue marker of PSY 015, released 2006. The label’s breached PSY 100 this year, and they’d only just reached PSY 050 in 2011. So... from about three releases per year, to about a clip of over ten per now. And all done with a plethora of obscure artists at that.

Take David Bickley. Have you heard of him? Okay, maybe if you’re from his native Ireland or a hardcore follower of downtempo and ambient music, the name’s crossed your path. Not mine though, except in one recent instance that didn’t even register with me at the time. The same year he put out this album, David also released a collaborative effort with Tom Green, the man behind Another Fine Day. In fact, almost all of Mr. Bickley’s Discogian credits list him as a collaborator or contributor to other artists. Going further back, he put out a few items under the alias of Hyperborea, which I know more for the Tangerine Dream album than anything else.

Hey, that’s a handy segue! While I wouldn’t call Still Rivers At Night a krautrock album, there are a few elements of that floating about, mostly in the synth-heavy Berlin-School vein. Hell, the titular cut could be right out of the late ‘70s with those vintage brisk, bloopy arps, sequenced modulators, and gentle pad waves. That’s about as easy it gets describing this album though. Mr. Bickley’s clearly had plenty of influences in his time in the world of music, and he finds ways of incorporating them in clever ways throughout. Traction Cities rides a laid-back trip-hop beat as a woozy melody ebbs in and out, Babygroove sounds like how psy dub might have gone if done by ‘70s German stoners, Zebo-Black glides along a minimalist electro rhythm with faded cinematic strings, and Cave 9 gets its psychedelic rock on while cruising the Amtrak in Detroit.

Ultimately, much of Still Rivers At Night reminds me of The Future Sound Of London’s more recent works. If that sounds mint to you, then this is a worthy companion to the quirkier albums in your collection.

OutKast - Stankonia

Arista: 2000

Wu-Tang Clan may have opened my ears to the possibilities of what hip-hop could sound like, but OutKast's Stankonia obliterated whatever biased barriers I had left. Not that my reaction was much different from everyone else who nabbed a copy of this album, Big Boi and André 3000's fourth LP lauded for its fearless genre-bending music by even the most cagey of rap veterans. Folks in the know were already hype to OutKast's potential though, even if the duo continuously exceeded expectations at this point in their career. I was coming in raw, with no knowledge of their history within the Atlanta scene. All I knew about Southern rap was whatever No Limit Records was churning out, and Stankonia sounded nothing like Master P. Then again, Stankonia sounded like nothing else on the market period.

For one thing, this album was among the first, if not the first, of major records in American hip-hop to inject the breakneck pace of drum ‘n’ bass rhythms into the scene. I’m sure some UK act had done the deed prior, or at least lyrically conscious MCs were spittin’ verses overtop Roni Size cuts, but music intended for raves was well outside the interest of this continent’s ghetto regions. Figures, then, it’d take these OutKast types to make that bold step into 155BPM territory with B.O.B. and smaller track ? (yes, it’s called that). Big Boi and Mr. 3000 weren’t satisfied just aping some rhythms though, making use of their newly acquired studio to indulge in all sorts of electronic sounds and productions. Red Velvet is pure electro, Snappin’ & Trappin’ goes weirdo electro (wasn’t really called trap yet), Gangsta Sh*t blasts heavy southern bass funk, Slum Beautiful fears no time signatures, and I’ll Call Before I Come tinkers with a drum machine like a toy box in Prince’s hands. And don’t forget all those funky Moog worms about So Fresh, So Clean, Xplosion, and Stanklove.

Stankonia was also where André started feeling the soul-croon itch, which initially gave his chums pause whether they were going to lose his rap talents. Instead, Big Boi let him run with it, and the result was some of OutKast’s most endearing songs ever, including their first major hit with Ms. Jackson. There’s also freak-out rock with Gasoline Deams, P-funk soul with Toilet Tisha, salsa with Humble Mumble, and plenty of quirky dalliances within multiple interludes. It’s funny how the more traditional hip-hop cuts with Spaghetti Junction and We Luv Deez Hoez, while fine enough productions, are almost forgotten amongst the genre bending going on. Well, no, you’ll never forget the hook in We Luv Deez Hoez.

Listening to Stankonia, it’s easy to understand why many OutKast fans were hesitant in embracing Speakerboxxx / The Love Below. This album finds the duo seemingly at the threshold of exploring amazing new approaches to hip-hop, whereas the latter, though a passion-project, was a step back. The relative lack of anything since has only made hearts grow fonder for this stank.

Various - Space Jazz

Quango Records: 2001

Space Jazz was another of the re-launched Quango Records' many quirky new compilations featuring future-leaning examples of classic musical styles. This, above all the others, probably piqued my interest the most, because space music, obviously. I was willing to let go of my bias against traditional jazz if it had cool cosmic sounds floating about. Come to think of it, this was probably the first jazzy CD I got that-

Eh? What's that, Lord Discogs? You demand I search your All-Knowing Archives for Space Jazz? But I have the CD right here in my hand. I can bring it up with a quick run through My Collection no problem. Well, if you insist. You do Know All, after all.

Hello, what's this? Another Space Jazz, by... L. Ron Hubbard? Wait, the Scientology guy? This can’t be... Oh my. This is... HAHAHAHA! Oh dear me, this looks awful! An actual soundtrack for Battlefield Earth, made in 1982, intended to be played while reading the original book. This must be a prank, a piss-take, a... Well I’ll be damned, it’s totally sincere. It even features ‘cutting edge’ electronic music technology, utilizing the Fairlight CMI for its compositions. Man, you just know this is gonna’ sound all kind of chintzy, like the worst aspects of easy-listening jazz with hopeless dated synth sounds. Are there any samples online? *searches* Oh my God! It’s more hilarious than I could have imagined! Brilliant! And I thought the Travolta movie was the worst possible interpretation of Battlefield Earth. Ahahaha, hooo! Dear me, what a riot. Bless thee, Lord Discogs, for preserving such artefacts of bountiful ridiculousness.

I apologize for that derailment. Sometimes though, you discover something so wonderful, so precious, so pure, it must be shared with all, even to the short-term detriment of a review. Like, I know I’ll never own L. Ron Hubbard’s Space Jazz, so why not do this while I have the chance, eh? Besides, it’s far more interesting than Quango’s Space Jazz. This compilation’s actually pretty darn good, but the internet’s all about spotlighting the obscure and nonsensical detritus of history.

What was my original angle anyway? Oh yeah. Quango’s Space Jazz being the first time I started giving nu-jazz some appreciation – at least, when not tied to Ninja Tune. The space theme was an instant hook for yours truly, figuring I’d hear some neat pads sounds and Moog synths among all the usual instrumental dexterity common of the scene. What I didn’t expect was something far dubbier with opener Chocolate Elvis from Tosca, and Boozoo Bajou on the rub. Then again, it was my first exposure to the Richard Dorfmeister project, so it makes all the sense now.

By and large though, Quango’s Space Jazz goes for trippy psychedelia throughout, featuring cuts from Meat Katie, Love TKO, Akasha, and Horsemilk. It also gets downright trip-hoppy in parts (Forward’s Modern Crimes, Solid Doctor’s Faustian Bargain), which isn’t all that spacey, but what the heck, I’ll take it.

The Beach Boys - Sounds Of Summer: The Very Best Of

Capitol Records: 2003

First, it was The Police and Boney M. Then, it was Raffi and Disney singalongs. After that... not a whole lot. Music, which had been such a vital part of my early childhood, ceased having much influence. It was those darn Transformers, you see, taking my attention away for a few years, soon replaced by all sorts of marketable cartoons and media. Who has time for bands and songs when there's more The Real Ghostbuster toys to get, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bubblegum cards to buy, or Star Wars movies to obsess over? I still played the odd CD from my folks' collection, but seldom gave it much more thought than a passive distraction. One day though, after listening to a cheery compilation called Sun Jammin', the final track caught my attention like few songs had for a very, very long time. I had to hear more from this group, those sweet vocal harmonies, those starry-eyed lyrics of fun in the Caribbean sun and holiday bliss. The song was Kokomo.

Look, it was the '80s, and The Beach Boys’ most recent hit, so it was about the only way I'd have 'stumbled' upon them back then. Man though, after hearing that song, I scoured for more, the first time in my life I started digging for a specific group. It probably didn't hurt I was heavy into Archie Comics at the time (shad'up, we've all been there!), and saw kinship between the two representatives of clean-cut, all-American youth culture as envisioned by the late '50s and early '60s. I even compiled my findings onto my very first mixtape. True, all I had to work with was whatever was in my father's CDs, but as an initiation into the glorious world of music hunting obsession, The Beach Boys wasn't such a bad place to start.

Of course, had Tween Sykonee been around when Sounds Of Summer came about, I wouldn’t have needed to bother. There were numerous ‘Best Of’ and ‘Greatest Hits’ and ‘Essential Sounds’ on the market up through the ‘80s, but it didn’t seem The Beach Boys were quite done scoring the occasional charter even long after most figured their music way dated. Then the ‘90s hit and, well, yeah. With no new hits for a decade, the new millennium seemed as good a time as any for an authentic, definitive gathering of all their memorable, classic, vintage, glorious tunes. And Getcha Back, for some stupid reason (ugh... those ‘80s drums, so bad).

Sounds Of Summer is about as perfect a collection of Beach Boys music you could want without splurging on a zillion LPs for three or four great tunes surrounded by filler. It’s got all the surf rock hits, the hot-rodding car odes, the rowdy party tunes (Barbara Ann, so drunk), their introspective aging songs, and an assortment of odds and sods in the ensuing years. The only thing missing is selections from their wonderful Christmas album, but that’d defeat the ‘summer’ theme, wouldn’t it.

The Beach Boys - Smiley Smile/Wild Honey

Capitol Records: 1967/1990

I didn't get too detailed about the music on Brian Wilson's Smile because it's so much more fun comparing those finished songs to the weird versions found on Smiley Smile. As mentioned, Wilson had the album pretty well planned out, but stress and timing (curse ye', Sgt. Pepper's!) derailed whatever progress he managed. The lead singles in Heroes And Villains and Good Vibrations still made it to the market more or less as intended, but the accompanying tunes were nowhere near properly realized. Part of that is due to their very nature within Smile's arrangement, often interstitial compositions building a thematic whole. As standalone songs though, they don't work as effectively, and definitely not in the versions we get on Smiley Smile.

For instance, Smile has Vega-Tables a bouncy bit of pop declaring one's love for, um, vegetables. Look, the vocals are catchy as Hell, and it’s cute hearing actual recordings of celery and carrots being chomped on. Vegetables, as it's known on Smiley Smile, is more minimalist, like a subdued hoe-down, including blowing into a glass bottle for a rhythm - oh, and Paul McCartney provided vegetable chomps on this version, so I guess that's one point in S.S.'s favour. Meanwhile, Wind Chimes sounds all eerie (!) and creepy here rather than reflective and charming in Smile. Then Fall Breaks Back To Winter is tripped-out woodblock and cuckoo clock nonsense, whereas the harmonic ideas are fully realized in the orchestral firestorm that is Mrs. O'Leary's Cow. And let's not get into the songs with tape manipulations and stoner dullness. Such wacky things might have been acceptable in the '60s, it’s clear most of these were studio jams used to filled space on an expectant album that had Good Vibrations on it.

I can't say enough just how brilliant that song is. When you break each portion down and hear what's going on, which instrument is being used (that theremin!), where each melody and harmony complements each other, its small wonder that it took months to complete. Selling that point are a few bonus supplements on this CD, one with a studio rehearsal, and another an early run-through. I'd say these features are only for obsessives, but I count myself among such folk when it comes to Good Vibrations, so there it is.

Speaking of bonuses, the perk of releasing '60s back-catalogue onto CD is the ample space the aluminum provided, such that they could cram two old-timey albums onto one disc. The follow-up to Smiley Smile was a throwback soul album titled Wild Honey, which some claim is one of The Beach Boys' best albums post-Pet Sounds. It's certainly a different LP in their discography, more emphasis on rhythm and blues than sweet pop harmonies. It also gave Carl Wilson a chance to lead on a few songs, and his coarser singing voice definitely added a rougher veneer to a group still thought of as preppy boys. Goes to show what aping Rolling Stones can do for one’s image.

The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

Parlaphone: 1967/2009

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a Beatles fan. If you’re a totally predictable, cliché music collector anyway. Most folks don’t bother with the albums, getting any number of the greatest hits packages for their Beatles fix and calling it a day. Sgt. Pepper’s though, we’re told is a must have, an essential have, resting at the peak of a rock ‘n’ roll mountain of Very Important Albums. So get it folks do, because why not, it’s got cool songs on it like A Little Help From My Friends, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, and the epic A Day In The Life. I think everybody’s day should end with a massive piano chord slowly ebbing away as sleep takes you over.

Yet I wonder how many actually play the whole album through. Any Beatles fanatic obviously does – to not indulge their concept LP in its entirety is punishable by eternal Yoko yodeling. Do casuals have much care for George Harrison’s complete dive into Indian meditation music in Within You Without You though? Do the screaming fangirls of yore suddenly fantasize becoming a meter-maid, thus wooing the fancy of McCartney in Lovely Rita? Did a bunch of starry-eyed hippies marvel at the production ingenuity of carnival funfair ode Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite? I somehow suspect not, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band faring no better than any other number of Beatles albums of their studio era. This album has a massive gap between songs everyone knows intimately, and songs folks would have trouble identifying as part as one of the rock music’s most beloved records. “Oh yeah, Fixing A Hole’s totally a Beatles tune, it’s off one of those white albums, right?”

I know I’m dodging a proper review of Sgt. Pepper’s, but my analysis is moot. The record is almost a half-century old, and is so thoroughly dissected by music historians, the only original angle I can offer is anecdotal. Speaking of, my road trip with my old man gave me a chance to pick his brain about many things music related, including this album he insisted we bring. He was a young teenager then, swept in by Sgt. Pepper’s unique vision, realizing the possibilities of what rock music could achieve. I can appreciate Sgt. Pepper’s impact on those terms too (plus, y’know, just vibe on all the great tunes), but to hear it described as a game-changer from someone who was actually there when the album first dropped, a wistful look in his eyes at remembering how all the old rules were shattered, does give it a fresh perspective. She’s Leaving Home’s just a nice, mellow song on a good album to my ears, but is remarkably poignant to his.

Other bands might have shown potential to do what The Beatles did with Sgt. Pepper’s, but the Liverpool Four had the access to top-end studio gear, work ethic, and commercial clout to realize such a vision first.

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.

The Beatles - Revolver

Capitol Records: 1966/2009

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a Beatles fan. Revolver’s the Liverpool band’s ‘middle’ album, catching the foursome in transition from preppy, mop-topped lads to daring studio songsmiths. If you preferred their early rock work with sweet vocal harmonies and catchy pop choruses, Revolver has that. If you preferred their later psychedelic sounds and genre fusions, Revolver has that. And if you preferred hearing The Beatles as a unified band at the peak of their creative powers, that’s Revolver to a tee. Seriously, what isn’t there to like about this album?

Okay, maybe the stylistic jumps could be a bit much, especially back in the day when no one had a clue just how out there The Beatles would soon get (oh hi, White Album). The A-side of Revolver must have one of the wildest runs of pseudo-rock music ever crafted to that point ( and yes, I’m reviewing the ‘proper’ UK version). It all starts innocently enough, railing against The Man in Taxman for a chipper jaunt, but then McCartney turns out such a sad tune about lonely people (Eleanor Rigby) with a backing string section. Wait, wasn’t this band making happy love songs like Please Please Me and Love Me Do but a mere three years prior? Man, fame really did turn them cynical in short order, didn’t it? Oh wait, here’s bouncy I’m Only Sleeping after that, so they haven’t gotten all so serious yet, though the weird’s creeping in with a guitar recording played in reverse.

And the A-side lunacy doesn’t end yet with Revolver. Love You To is our first introduction to Harrison’s fascination with Indian instruments, which is all kinds of awesome or terrible, depending on what era of Beatlesmania you fall under (awesome!). Following that are Here, There And Everywhere and She Said She Said, which aren’t that weird compared to all else that’s performed, but lodged right in the middle of that is Yellow Submarine. Most know it as that song their parents played for them as a kid in hopes of being turned into Beatles fans at an early age. I cannot deny its sing-songy nature, fun nonsensical lyrics and cartoony sound effects is catnip to children ears. Plus, how brilliant is it that Ringo gets to sing Yellow Submarine, making the song relatable as an everyman pub chanty since you don’t need impeccable vocal harmonies to sing along.

Side number two obviously can’t compare to the first half of Revolver, though there are charming bits about (plus a total downer in For No One for the miserable sorts). On the other hand, Tomorrow Never Knows is at the end, the most big-beaty, sampledelic meaty, off-the-wall kick-assery Beatles tune ever – it’s ‘90s Brit rock thirty years early, though I’m sure all those bands freely admit Tomorrow Never Knows being an influence. It was the most perfect capper to an already dynamic album. No way The Beatles could top it. No way. (they did)

Sykonee Surveys Spotify's Senseless Suggestions, Round 4

Spotify’s still sending me suggestions based on my Faithless dalliance, but now The Prodigy too. Hilariously, it’s mostly the same releases as my last round, which only confirms my suspicion that Spotify is sending these recommendations based on U.K. chart dominance. Dammit, Britain, there’s more to music than just your corner of the globe! For the purpose of completion though, here’s the few additional albums listed that aren’t Basement Jaxx and Armand van Helden again:

The Micronauts - Damaging Consent & A Remixes Retrospective
Underworld - Dark & Long
Zombie Nation - Absorber

Again, some good music there, but not in line with the point of my surveys of Spotify’s services. Fortunately, it seems Spotify’s also clued in that I’m not following their BIG UK CHART MUSICS suggestions either, and have mostly tapered them off. So let’s see what sort of general recommendations I’ve been sent this time around. Remember, scores are relative to how obvious a suggestion the album is, with 5/5 being something I’d never have thought existed and 1/5 being what every music rag shoves down my earholes.

James Holden - One For You
Wait, you’re recommending a single to start things off? Well, okay then, I don’t mind hearing some old-school Holden for a start. One For You is McProg long before McProg was even considered a thing (re: Schulz adopted the style for his use/abuse). It’s got a grumbly bassline, spritely bleepy hooks, and floaty vocals …all the tropes that defined the genre in the mid-‘00s, but here in 2001. Damn, was Holden ever ahead of the progressive game, eh? Brancaccio & Aisher provides a tougher ‘dark prog’ remix, for all your John Digweed needs.

Recommendation Rating: 3/5

Chris Zippel - Genuine Horizon Remixes
I follow the link, and Spotify says the album’s not found. How is the first track, Blade (Namito Remix), playing then? I know the player will sometimes stream directly from one’s own library, but I sure don’t have this track. I’m not even familiar with Chris Zippel, though Lord Discogs tells me he’s been around for a while. The music on here does shows some promise in further exploration though, mostly dubby dark prog from a year that would have called this dark tech-house or something stupid (yeah, because my description is equally naff!).

Recommendation Rating: 4/5

System 7 - Classics
Ah dear, another case of being forced to give a low score not based on quality of music, but obviousness of suggestion. System 7 is quite ubiquitous in the world of ethno-fusion, which any algorithm having seen copious amounts of Banco de Gaia should realize I’d have interest of. Matters aren’t helped by going with a ‘classics’ collection, though to be fair, this is a gathering of remixes from Hillage and Giraudy’s ‘90s heyday. Bonus points for that.

Recommendation Rating: 2/5

Khan featuring Julee Cruise - Say Goodbye Remixes
If the name Julee Cruise seems familiar to you, it’s because she’s most famous for providing vocals to Falling; aka: the Twin Peaks theme song. She’s also sung on a couple Hybrid tracks, which is about the only reason I can think of Spotify recommending this to me. Or maybe it just figures I’d be down for the Losoul “She’s Homeless” Mix’s down and deep house vibe, because Lord knows the original is one odd tune. Evil electro bossa-nova, maybe? Whatever it is, I know my life’s one step closer to completion having heard it!

Recommendation Rating: 4/5

Slacker - Start A New Life
Oh hey, I remember Slacker. He had quite a few awesome progressive trance tunes back in the day. Didn’t know he was still producing music. Hm, this is from only a few years ago too. Better check the o’ Lord what else he’s released since- oh. Dear. Geez, that puts the title of this album into an unfortunate dark slant. The music itself is also something of a surprise, with liberal amounts of funk and jazz fusion among hip-hop beats, smooth breakbeats, and indie rock psychedelia. Reminds me of what The Future Sound Of London have been up to in recent years.

Recommendation Rating: 4/5

Hardfloor - The Art Of Acid
I’m pretty certain I’ve played some acid techno at some point in all my Spotify sessions, so that I’d get a suggestion of Hardfloor’s latest album is no surprise at all. I’m honestly more surprised that Hardfloor had another LP out this year, since I didn’t hear much buzz for it (what else is new?). As for this album, it’s Hardfloor doing what they’ve always done: acid techno, sometime funky, sometimes spacey, sometimes peaktime, always tweaking. Don’t ever change, boys.

Recommendation Rating: 2/5

Wally Callerio feat. Delmos Wade - The Love Story EP
Strictly West Coast jazzy deep house, this. Except the second track, I’m In - that one’s got more of an electro funk thing going for it. This is a genre you can cast the tiniest net and trawl up something gold, but it’s always nice when you get something you’ve never heard of before. The only link I can think of Spotify suggesting Wally Callerio is this single’s from Guesthouse Music, who has released music from DJ Sneak and Gene Farris. Not that I recall Spotifying them recently, but maybe I have. Whatever. Good tunes, good find, now stop nitpicking, me.

Recommendation Rating: 4/5

Underground Resisance - Electronic Warfare 2.0 – The Other Side Of Bling
Another album missing from the main Spotify library. Come to think of it, even finding UR on the streaming service seems counter to the aggressive Detroit techno outfit’s manifesto. I guess the gritty underground’s gotta’ get paid somehow, even if it’s in fractions of pennies. While the music is as you’d expect from no-holds barred ghetto funk techno, I’m at a loss as to why this particular release came recommended over all the other UR singles out there. Maybe it really is the only one available on Spotify? I’m too lazy to confirm it right now.

Recommendation Rating: 5/5

überLAB - überwunder
Ah, here we go. Something I’ve heard absolutely nothing about, by an artist even Lord Discogs has scant information about, in a style of music that doesn’t get much attention because of its mish-mashy nature. Is it ambient techno? Glitch? J-Pop? Ah, just call it IDM, works for everyone else. It’s fun, charming, whimsical, super-nice, and all that good stuff. Rare too, I suppose, but only because of those darned limited CD runs. So it goes.

Recommendation Rating: 5/5

Kraftwerk - Aerodynamik
Oh, these guys. Yeah, if you’re listening to electronic music, gotta’ get in the most influential German act to come out of, erm, Germany. This was the lead single to Tour De France, their first new music in twenty-five years, and a pretty big deal at the time. The two remixes here go for the tougher electro techno touch and a prog-tech rub(!?), because why not. It’s a solid enough tune for Kraftwerk, but hardly as definitive as their early stuff. What is, though?

Recommendation Rating: 3/5

Lamb - Butterfly Effect
After helping define trip-hop in the ‘90s, Lamb went silent for a while, following their muses elsewhere. Then the allure of reunion festival tours was too tempting to resist, thus Andrew Barlow and Louise Rhodes joined forces again. This was one of the lead singles from their comeback album 5. The track itself is Lamb being as Lamb as they usually are, but the remixes are clearly on the pulse of the new London urban scene (future garage, dubstep …indie rock?). Frankly, I’ve had difficulty getting my vibe on to Lamb’s brand of music, and this is no different.

Recommendation Rating: 3/5

Whew, there’s more, but I think eleven suggestions are enough for now. Out of all these musics, we come to a finally tally of 39/55, the best score yet! Even with such a small sample size to work with, I’d say Spotify’s getting better at its recommendations. I may have to change the process (not to mention the title) yet again when I do another round, keep challenging whatever AI is driving this improving algorithm, but for now I’d say whatever it’s doing is working.

Märtini Brös. - Pläy.

Turbo Recordings: 2002

I thought I had Märtini Brös. all figured out. Responsible for a quirky novelty synth-pop hit at the height of electroclash’s popularity, signed to an LP deal on Tiga’s Turbo Recordings print based on the strength of that single (especially so the Black Strobe Remix), then off to the realms of Nowheresville once tastes and music trends abruptly shifted during the ongoing ‘00s. With absolute certainty in my assumption, I popped over to Lord Discogs to confirm my notions, only to have serious knowledge smacked in my smug face. This album Pläy. barely scratches the surface of what the German duo of Clemens Kahlcke and Michael Pagliosa have been up to in their career, with releases before and well after that breakout. Damn, the Lord does provide all, sometimes even more than you bargained for!

Turns out Märtini Brös.' primary home is Poker Flat Recordings (Steve Bug’s label, though more commonly known as ‘They Whom Released Trentemøller’s The Last Resort'), and had been putting out records with them since its inception. Not that it's a huge surprise, many of their early singles sitting comfortable with the deeper side of tech-house, the sort fussy Germans often adore (yes, even fifteen years whence). You couldn't escape glam-pop's re-emergence though, and Märtini Brös. got themselves in on that action whether you liked their older productions or not. Look, what else could they do to lift their career out of obscurity and into the fab' lights - make trance records?

While I won't deny it was presumptuous in thinking Märtini Brös. were a one-and-done album story, there was some logic behind my reasoning other than never coming across another significant hit of theirs post Biggest Fan. For a debut LP, Pläy. feels as though Kahlcke and Pagliosa were unsure whether this was their only shot, cramming in various styles of music without much consideration for album flow - it's like they wanted to show off all their inspirations while they had the chance. Thus, you have the requisite minimalist synth-pop electro-glam in tracks like Electric Monk, Dance Like It Is O.K., and Flash, but alongside those are starry-eyed psychedelic UK folktronica (!?) with Ultrastar, Happiness, and Flowers Of July. Mashed among those are quirky micro tech-house numbers like Boy/Girl, L.O.V.E. (A Really Strong Emotion), and Hot, and little in between linking these styles into a cohesive LP narrative (the cinematic French-pop chill-out track Audiopark 2002 notwithstanding). Märtini Brös. are by no means slouches in any of these genres, but they'd be better served as explorations of those sounds within full-lengths to themselves, not mish-mashed together as they are on Pläy.

This lends itself to a frustrating listen, few tracks standing out beyond whatever merit they contain. The Biggest Fan is already a catchy, camp number – imagine how great it’d sound with strong context surrounding it! Oh wait, I already know that answer. It’s on Tiga’s DJ-Kicks mix. Yeah all these tunes are better served like that than on Pläy., methinks.

Jefferson Airplane - Platinum & Gold Collection

BMG Heritage: 2003

It may be the biggest fucking cliché having Jefferson Airplane in a music collection, but what was an aging counter-culture chap to do? I was already in my mid-Twenties, man, feeling my grimy raver’s roots slipping away as the allure of proper clubbing beckoned in the big city. But I was still hip, yo’, still down with the folksy, psychedelic sounds that pot smokers and such couldn’t get enough of. I’ll prove it! There, that CD sitting in the bargain bin of this supermarket we’re currently rummaging through. It’s got a couple bona-fide classics of the San Fran’ ‘60s scene – heck, some of these members were utterly adamant that they built that city – built it – built that city – built – built that city on – built it – ‘n’ ro-o-o-l-l-l-l! Head trip, yeah.

Seriously though, the Jefferson Airplane story is a crucial one in understanding how influential their brand of folksy psychedelic rock became, endearing itself to a generation, and several others after who admire the hippie lifestyle (*cringe*). It's only fitting that the band came to an end as the '70s took hold, creative differences leading to a split – one became Jefferson Starship, because '70s sci-fi and shit; the other became Hot Tuna, because '70s progressive, drugs and shit. And then there was just Starship in '80s, which was a huge commercial success and represented all that went wrong for '60s rockers in that decade. Let us never speak of it again.

Obviously with such timeless classics like White Rabbit, Somebody To Love, and... um... mmm… (*checks track list*) ah, Watch Her Ride, the Thomas Aviator Band's seen tons of official and unofficial greatest hits collections over the years. This is one of them. As I recall, the Platinum & Gold Collection series was BMG's excuse to trot out their catalog every so often, just in case you didn't already have these songs on CD or in this order yet (buy the albums? Pft, what are you, a vinyl enthusiast?). There really isn't much else to say about this particular compilation that a rock historian hasn't tirelessly detailed elsewhere.

The main take-away I got from Platinum & Gold Collection is how succinctly it summarizes the San Fran' music scene. The first couple tracks are incredibly folksy, which makes sense since Jefferson Airplane was only a small group of folk musicians when they debuted. Then the psychedelia rode in on a rainbow wave, and they got all trippy good – half this disc features songs from Surrealistic Pillow, from which their most memorable hits came about (adding Grace Slick to the line-up didn't hurt). Then everyone went crazy against war and all that bad stuff, protest rock the new hotness. Figures the final track on here, Volunteers is of the band chanting that there's a revolution going on (Woodstock anthem!). Appropriate for the Jefferson Airplane story ending there, then, before glum reality settled in for the starry-eyed hippie generation. Or a fitting conclusion to this CD. Take your pick.