Hexstatic - When Robots Go Bad!

Ninja Tune: 2007

When stacked against commercial success, Hexstatic might be one of Ninja Tune's most successful, though almost entirely due to their breakout single. Which was a collaboration with Coldcut. Of course, I'm talking about Timber, and whether it was Hexstatic or Coldcut that actually had more to do with the single, it remains one of the label's most famous hits, one that would be difficult to follow upon. Not that Coldcut had much need to, their legacy in dance music's history firmly entrenched. Hexstatic though, they may have had some pressure in creating another chart topper, lest they be thought of just a flash in the pan wonder. Would explain the bandwagon jumping on When Robots Go Bad!

Or maybe I'm thinking too much into this. Hexstatic did spend their initial album efforts doing quirky cut-up electro and traditional Ninja-hop (including a supremely cheekily titled track called Ninja Tune - it has chop-socky samples). When listening to this LP though, with half the tunes such blatant cross-over attempts compared to their past discography, I can't help but make such assumptions. Like, I know 'electro' was big and all in the mid-'00s, but they didn't have to go this far and obvious with it, did they? Surely Coldcut's failed 'pop' singles from Sound Mirrors should have clued them in this wasn't a lane Ninja Tune could easily adapt to?

The best way I can describe When Robots Go Bad! is it's an album I would have absolutely loathed in the year it came out, and probably have written a scathing, snarky, embarrassing review for TranceCritic on it. I was so done with trashy club fodder trying to pass itself as cool and hip that I'd basically deny whatever good tunes might come paired with it. It wasn't a very good stance to have on music, but eh, we're all rather immature in our opinions when we've yet to reach thirty, amirite?

I can't say tracks like Red Laser Beam, Freak Me, Prom Night Party, and Move On have aged well because you couldn't imagine them being made at any other time; the Ed Banger aesthetic was almost as prevalent as 'minimal' was. To say nothing of Bust, so desperately trying to be Boys Noize it hurts.

Fortunately, they're the most egregious examples of Hexstatic 'going bad', the rest of the album moving between classier stabs at mainstream electro (Tokyo Traffic), and right-proper electro jams. Man, if only the whole CD had been like the smashing Newton's Cradle, or smooth-cruisin' Newwaves and TLC (that one's almost atmospheric jungle). Meanwhile, tunes like Roll Over and A Different Place provide enough soul-sista' finesse for the requisite vocal needs, if Hexstatic were so insistent on having them.

So an album with some good, some bad, some middling, and a rather odd entry into the Ninja Tune catalogue. Can't say the Ninja faithful would have been pleased with it, but I imagine they were more interested in new Amon Tobin or Cinematic Orchestra that year anyway.

The Prodigy - Invaders Must Die

Take Me To The Hospital: 2009

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

This honestly felt like a 'do or die' outing for The Prodigy. They had their stumble, but after so much earlier success, plus the long gap from Fat Of The Land to Always Outnumbered, Never Outgunned (what single between?), it seemed appropriate such a thing would happen to Liam Howlett's troupe. That all gotten out of the system, reflection on past mistakes done and dusted, and a re-assessment of what properly made The Prodigy of old fire so brilliantly while putting together the Their Law retrospective, everyone knew there were no more excuses to be had. Let's hear what Liam's got cooking for a new era of post-Pendulum rock-n-rave antics, and whether they still fit in a scene long since removed from whatever the '90s offered.

And the answer was... inconclusive. I recall Invaders Must Die had just as many fans as it had detractors, equal amounts of folk claiming this was the return to form everyone had been waiting for as there were those bemoaning The Prodigy were now trend-chasers rather than innovators. I admit I was more in the latter camp at the time of its release, hence my general disinterest in anything they released after, but that was a decade ago. We've had plenty of time now to digest its lasting impact, where it fits in The Prodigy's greater canon, and whether any of its obvious trend-chasing was really so bad given its surrounding context. Time has been kinder to Invaders Must Die than I was expecting, is what I'm getting at, but it doesn't negate the problems the album had when it first dropped.

Right from the jump, you sense something's still not quite right in Prodigy-Land, a stiff, jerky titular cut that sounds far too reliant on Pendulum's brand of screachy d'n'b to have ever come from the mind of someone that created brilliant openers like Break & Enter and Smack My Bitch Up. Follow-up Omen doesn't fare much better, and if old-school fans had deleted/thrown Invaders Must Die out after that, I wouldn't have blamed them.

Sneakily though, Liam starts luring you into this (then) contemporary sound of bosh by throwing in winking nods to his raving roots: rasta vocals in Thunder, vintage synth stabs in Take Me To The Hospital. It's so subtly effective a nostalgia trigger that when the full-blown throwback track Warrior's Dance hits, you're right back in that zealous vibe from the days of yore'. Small wonder this was hailed as The Prodigy track everyone had been waiting a decade for, though how it fared with the Pendulum kids, I haven't a clue.

What I do know is Invaders Must Die doesn't sound too bad for its final stretch, somehow looser and more confident in what it's trying to be. Maybe it's residual buzz from Warrior's Dance, or maybe Liam finally figured out where Prodigy fit in that new rave world. It likely wasn't enough to convince Jilted purists, but worked enough for the group to carry on a decade longer.

Supercar - Futurama

Ki/oon: 2000

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I know rock music has been a major component of Japanese culture for many decades now, but I don't hear much of it. Their chief sonic exports into my earholes remain j-pop and traditionalist modern classical, with some minimalist ambient and techno celebrating neo-Tokyo on the side. All these retain some hint of Japanese influence, adding to the rich tapestry these genres encapsulate across the globe. Rock music, on the other hand, is almost entirely devoted to Americana, forcing its musicians into its mold. Any innovative deviation from The Source is often ridiculed (krautrock, stuffy British progressive rock ...Norwegian death metal?), making the once rebellious scene almost as conservative as country (the true bastion of all that is Americana).

Thus whenever I hear Japanese rock, I give it a respectful nod, but seldom hear much that differentiates it from its American counterparts (screaming j-Punk noise an exception – no one screams like the Japanese!). Indeed, if I didn't explicitly know going in, I wouldn't have guessed this Supercar band was Japanese. For sure they sing in Japanase, but because they do so in that shoegazey method of elongated syllables, it doesn't sound much different from an English singer, in that I haven't a clue what either are saying most of the time. But man, do such vocals ever sound cool in the wall of sound that is indie rock.

Supercar cranked out seven albums in a decade of activity, before disbanding in 2005. They seem adored enough to get vinyl re-issues as of late, but even the Empire Records soundtrack got a vinyl reissue, so what's that worth? No, but seriously, Futurama is the sort of album that could use a little resurgence, a catchy assemblage of dream pop indie jams and club ready electronic rhythms. In fact, this album is far more electronic than I was expecting, tracks like opener Changes, Karma, and Fairway laying the techno-kicks on thick.

Mostly though, we get a variety of chipper indie rock (Playstar Vista, White Surf Style 5., Restarter), quirky synth-hop ditties (Baby Once More, Shibuya Morning, Everybody On News) and dreamy jams (Flava, New Young City, I'm Nothing). Some tracks add in a unique element from the usual shoegaze tones (what is that bleepy sound in Star Fall?), while others revisit musical themes from earlier in the album. Still, Supercar seem incappable of ending Futurama, the last clutch of tracks sounding like they're the capper on the album. No, wait, here's one more song. And one more. And one more. And...

And lyrically? From what I can glean from sporadic translations, most of these songs deal with relationships, which is a little disappointing, if I'm honest. With a title like Futurama, and clear album flow going down, I was kinda' hoping for songs about, well, the future, or at least living in some 'futurama' future. Heck, maybe they are, and the translations simply didn't capture that theme. Wouldn't be the first time something Japanese is lost in translation.

Moby - Play

V2: 1999

Play is a very important album released by a very important artist at a very important time in electronic music’s history. It set the very important precedent that one need not rely on very important radio play for promotion, but could succeed by licensing the music out to very important movies and very important commercials for maximum exposure. Then you could smugly sit back watching those same very important radio stations crawl back to you now that your very important hit singles have wormed their way into the popular discourse. Take that, Very Important Radio that’s no longer so very important!

Sorry, had to get that bit of silliness out of my system. I know it goes without saying that Moby’s Play stunned everyone with how commercially successful it became, but it holds especially true for many ravers who’d been following him since the beginning of his career (or at least after hearing Go). Though he'd always been a little erratic with his muse, most figured he'd all but left electronic music following Animal Rights, seduced by the vigor of protest punk rock in lieu of his growing social conscience. Maybe he'd make another techno album down the road under his Voodoo Child alias, or something ambient leaning should he get the reigns to a film score, but not much else that could interest his old audience.

And it went when Play first dropped, many unsure what to make of all the ragtime and blues samples littered about. While his past indulgences with gospel were charming enough, tracks like Honey, Find My Baby, Run On, and Natural Blues gave us a Moby gleefully exploring American roots music not seen since... well, ever, at least where electronic music was concerned. These weren't simple historical raids for catchy or quirky loops; rather, he honored their legacy, providing little more than serviceable contemporary dance rhythms and his distinct piano, strings and pad flourishes. Everyone agreed it was different, yet uniquely Moby; a defining moment in electronic music's history though? Hardly. Just another indication the Moby brand, once a darling of American rave, had fallen further off from scene relevance. I mean, listen to those squeaky-clean 'rocktronica' cuts Bodyrock and South Side - no way those will catch on with the underground.

Silly underground, there's more to music than you. But okay, if you’re really forlorn for the Moby of old, there are a few tunes that play to his melancholy strengths, including the dreamy Porcelain and surprisingly uptempo Machete. Most of the vintage Mobes is found in the back end of Play though, with haunting ambience (Inside, My Weakness) rubbing shoulders with downtempo takes on his newfound blues infatuation (Everloving, The Sky Is Broken).

Though I doubt anyone reading this blog hasn’t come within earshot of at least a few tracks off Play, it is worth your while to hear the album in full if you haven’t yet. Its simple charm makes for a surprisingly difficult LP to turn off.

Various - Mortal Kombat: Annihilation

TVT Records: 1997

The movie Mortal Kombat: Annihilation represented everything that sucked about being a teenager in the '90s: utter ruination of a popular franchise, clueless pandering with pointless character cameos, over-reliance of shit CGI, crap plotting, no campy charm, and generally just poo. It showcased how little corporate executives thought of the demographic, figuring we'd eat up any ol' slop. Okay, they were right on most occasions, but after the surprise quality of the first Mortal Kombat movie, we expected better. Man, fuck this movie.

Speaking of failures, let's talk about the soundtrack. Something feels totally off about Annihilation compared to the first, as though TVT Records were unwillingly sucked into the 'electronica' hype machine and forced to accommodate the rising bankable genre going forward. For a label known primarily for industrial rock, shoving in a pile of one-off breaks acts must have been frustrating for them. Or maybe not, and they truly were gung-ho about this turn.

Thing about the first soundtrack is it didn’t even come off like a soundtrack; rather, a mixtape from TVT staff, giving equal share and exposure to thrashy techno, industrial, and metal (plus a few original pieces from George S. Clinton). Annihilation, in contrast, is almost all ‘electronica’ of some form. KMFDM at least get a return spot, and I’m sure plenty were properly introduced to Rammstein by way of their classic Engel (for those who weren’t, Du Hast was just around the corner!). Elsewhere, industrial gets a spit more of attention with one-off act Urban Voodoo, and that’s it for the genre. Metal? Hah, don’t make me laugh. Megadeth’s Almost Honest is turned into a Spawn clone via Danny Saber, and that’s it – unless you count the thrashy guitars in Scooter’s Fire as metal, since that’s about as close as anything else gets to the genre on here. Yeah, I don’t think so.

It’s essentially generic ‘action-movie’ big beat making up the remaining two-thirds of Annihilation, surprisingly none produced by Junkie XL. Remember how Mortal Kombat had distinctive songs that perfectly fit with the scenes and characters? Forget that nonsense in Annihilation. Perfect example is the use of FSOL’s We Have Explosive, horribly shoe-horned in a lame fight between Lui Kang and Baraka, for barely thirty seconds! But hey, they got the rights to use it, so better shove it in somewhere. Think about it: Annihilation made the f’n FSOL sound pointless and inconsequential. Man, fuck this movie.

Just as a collection of tunes, then, does this CD hold up? Without the movie association or comparison with the first CD, only barely, and thanks largely in part to the inclusion of some choice material from those already mentioned (plus Psykosonik, Juno Reactor, Cirrus, and Lunatic Calm). Keep in mind though, the music’s so late ‘90s sounding, you can practically see the wire-fu action sequences as they play out. The good tunes can be found elsewhere, and the lesser cuts are forgotten by the end of a play-through. Annihilation’s pathetic legacy, as it were.

BT - These Hopeful Machines

Nettwerk: Cat. # 0 6700 30849 2 5 

Released February 2010 

Track List: 

Disc 1: 

1. Suddenly (8:06) 

2. The Emergency (10:53) 

3. Every Other Way (11:07) 

4. The Light Of Things (10:47) 

5. The Rose Of Jericho (7:43) 

6. Forget Me (9:38) 

Disc 2: 

1. A Million Stars (12:25) 

2. Love Can Kill You (5:22) 

3. Always (6:12) 

4. Le Nocturne De Lumiere (11:38) 

5. The Unbreakable (10:25) 

6. The Ghosts In You (7:57) 

IN BRIEF: These songs, I wish. 

I’m not going to proclaim to be anything of a BT expert. I sporadically enjoyed a number of his tunes from the 90s, was ready to proclaim him an incredible producer after hearing Fibonacci Sequence on Sasha’s GU: 13 mix compilation, then was mightily disappointed in the album Movement In Still Life. It sounded like an overcooked attempt at ‘electronica’, fully three years too late to be relevant; mind, it probably didn’t help I was exposed to the busted American version either. 

None of Mr. Transeau’s output interested me since that time (well, aside from the perverse curiosity of what an N’Sync collaboration would sound like …it sucked). Apparently I’ve missed out on some dizzying highs (This Binary Universe) and dilapidated lows (Emotional Technology), which I’m sure would affect my thoughts on this latest album to some degree. As it stands, however, perhaps going into These Hopeful Machines without hearing those may be a benefit, as I won’t be weighed down by those expectations, good and bad. 

Actually, that’s not entirely truthful. There’s already some expectation here, most of which derived from pre-release buzz, and a good deal of which was rather… sketchy. Word had it that BT was going the pop route again, and considering his last foray down that road - Emotional Technology - has been hailed as his worst album, a number of folks were leery about how this one was going to turn out. Well, pop is indeed what we get here, more than you’re likely to ever want. 

Look, I’ve got little problem with much of pop music, whether it’s bonafide classics (The Beatles, Abba, The Police, etc.) or cheesy dance (2 Unlimited, Snap!, just about any early-90s euro dance really); a good tune’s a good tune. And BT does know how to write a good tune. There are loads of catchy choruses on this album - Suddenly, The Light Of Things, and The Unbreakable all get lodged in my noggin, such that I’ve no problem falling sway to, plus enjoyable nuggets of music scattered throughout the rest of both CDs. The trouble is BT fills his music with so many gratuitous, pointless effects and wayward tangents, it dilutes and ruins any charm the hooks have. The word “restraint” seems to be a totally alien construct to Mr. Transeau. 

Let’s put it another way. Normally, someone would write a sentence thus: “The sky is blue.” 

Now, here’s the way BT would write it: 

“The- let me pause for a moment, as I wish to present to you a theory of the cosmic significance of the word ‘the’, as it relates to the number pi.” Three paragraphs later… “…anyhow, the firmament above, where the heavens so grand exist beyond a fragile veil of nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide…” (every atmospheric element is listed at this point) “…contains a deep azure melding with various shades of cerulean, aquamarine, and blue, which is a color I love, you love, and we all must love, like a dove, for love is the grandest of loving feelings, a feeling of pure emotional nurturing sentiment, this love we love.” 

That’s what it’s like to listen to this album. It grows so tedious that anytime an effects-laden ‘solo’ emerges, I completely tune out until it finishes. I simply don’t care. Another thing that struck me is how BT seems to be playing catch-up with contemporary club music, including rounding up regular ‘trance’ vocalists like Christian “Will Shed Tears For Sunrise” Burns and Jes “You Still Remember ‘As The Rush Comes,’ Right?” Brieden. Perhaps most shocking is The Emergency, a collaboration with Anjunabeats regular Boom Jinx. It features side-chaining, thunk-clap rhythms, and very little point beyond trying to fit in with the current generation of mau5 clones. 

Elsewhere, The Rose Of Jericho style-bites old-school McProg beats and plinky-plonk hooks, turning in a track that works at the peaks but pointlessly piddles about to get there (Le Nocturne De Lumiere suffers for much of the same reason). The Light Of Things, perhaps one of the least offensive tracks in the overwrought-effects department, is basically your standard vocal trance outing - though I must admit it’s quite good compared to many other dismal attempts of the same type; there’s fun energy to be had here (the fact it’s a collaboration with Laurent Véronnez of Airwave fame probably helps). I’ll also add The Unbreakable works in this regard as well, although whenever I imagine the scene in which it’s likely to be played at - super lasers and smug superstar DJs urging a ravenous crowd to enthusiastically hop in one spot with a fist in the air - I get a cold chill down the back of my neck for some reason. It’s a very obvious, manipulative, calculated anthem, that one. There’s also a bunch of ‘rocktronica’ tunes and downtempo moments, most of which are quite derivative of the sound (Every Other Way? Meh, needlessly long). 

Aside from Suddenly (one of the few tunes that works provided you first edit out the effects wonk that bookends the track), the only one that stood out for me was the final track, The Ghost In You, for the simple reason that it’s one of the most restrained songs on the whole album. While I was first listening to These Hopeful Machines, a couldn’t help but wonder what a BT song would sound like if he stripped away all the production trickery and simply played acoustically. Well, I got my answer here and despite being a cover of 80s band The Psychedelic Furs, it still comes off as generic as many BT tunes goes these days, especially for a singer-songwriter ballad. 

I’ve no doubt there will be plenty of new fans loving this album, as it seems to be mostly geared towards a fresher crop of party kids who aren’t much aware of BT’s 90s output but are dazzled by superfluous special-effects (or those who simply enjoy unoriginal radio-ready melodies). If such is the case, so be it. I may throw Suddenly and The Light Of Things on as a guilty pleasure on occasion but the rest of These Hopeful Machines is quite forgettable. I’ll stick to the 90s BT, thank you very much. He at least had a better grasp of the word “restraint” back then. 

Score: 4/10 

ACE TRACKS: 

The Light Of Things 

Written by Sykonee, 2010. © All rights reserved.