Arctic Hospital - Going Sun

Lantern: 2012

Bought with the same bundle as that ultra-obscure early '90s techno compilation, in case you care. I bring it up as proof-positive that, even if the old standard of rummaging music shops becomes a bygone activity talked about in reverent tones along with our sensible fashions of the time, we'll always have the Discogs Marketplace. Unless it closes down. Or shipping fees becomes so stupidly expensive, we'll have to resort to a bay of buccaneers forever after. Eh, streaming options? Oh, you never know when that bubble will burst (and it will too).

Anyhow, the point I'm getting at is Arctic Hospital is another artist I likely wouldn't have have found any other way than a trawl of Discoggian saleable items. It's over a decade since Eric Bray was seriously active with the alias, or any other project for that matter (so sayeth Lord Discogs). If there was ever any hype behind him, it's far in the rear view by now. Given the scant number of individuals claiming to have a copy of this CD, I can't imagine there ever was. His Soundcloud is sporadically updated, but it's clear Mr. Bray's prime music making days are long behind.

Which is a shame because, dang, if this artist wasn't a sweet, unexpected find. I'll go into his other stuff at a later date, but this was the one that drew me in. Yeah, cool cover and all, but when I listened to a couple tracks, my instant thought was: “Hey, this sounds like The Field. Boy, it's sure been a spell since I last heard anyone try sounding like The Field. Kinda' makes me fond for that brief period of electronic music when a ton of people were trying to sound like The Field. Those endlessly loopy, dubby, shoegazey techno loops... good times.”

Seriously though, that's about the easiest review I can give Going Sun: if you like The Field, you'll like this. Not that Eric doesn't throw his own little spins on the formula. The titular cut has fun with screwing with time-signatures, such that the loops almost trip over themselves just when you expect things to lock in with spectrum-pleasing repetitiveness. Except even that soon settles in its own way. Friend Amplifier twists around piano house loops, Colorstream inches closer to the realm of whatever neo-trance was supposed to be (shoegaze prog?), and The Folding Tree gets joyous and full of soul as vocals are heavily filtered through so many layers of dub. Only dud I can find on this album is the closer Natural Parade, if only because Eric's tinkering with time signatures and drum loops actually do trip over themselves whenever there's a transition. Interesting as a sonic experiment, but after following the deliciously smooth, loopy music that came before, more of a stumble taking us out.

One miss out of six ain't bad though (yes, these are long tracks too). Considering I'd never heard of Arctic Hospital before this chance encounter, I'd call that a win!

Pale Glow - In Dreams Awake

Neotantra: 2021

Another Neotantra release so soon after the last one? What is this, April of 2021 all over again? Well, this one came out in July of 2021, whereas Martin Allin's album came out in February of 2021, which means... absolutely nothing, if we're being honest. It's just a weird coincidence that the label would put out two albums mere months apart both having titles beginning with the letter “I”, and that I'd be reviewing them mere days apart a year later.

Heck, it wouldn't have surprised me if they were both titled “In [something]”. The world of music loves leading off with the word “In”. Take a gander at some within my own collection: In Blue, In Dub, In Stereo, In Utero, In-Between Spaces, In The Silence Of The Subconscious, In The Rain, In The Noise. And let's not forget all those In Trance We Trust and In Search Of Sunrise mix CDs, to say nothing about the endless amount of words that start with the letters I and N. It's a very, very, very common digraph within the English language, is what I'm saying.

Anyhow, if you remember my previous Neotantra review of so many hours ago, the reason I'm blathering on about silly nonsense rather actual reviewing is because I'm once again confronted with an artist with barely any available information. Total blank with Lord Discogs, a couple Neotantra compilation contributions, plus a self-release on Bandcamp of select tracks from this particular release. At least Mr. Allin had an actual name I could sleuth about a little with, Pale Glow not even providing that. There was a smidgen more with Bandcamp though, which led to a Facebook page with a dash of additional info, but no names or history I could find. Huh, contact Pale Glow directly? What do I look like, a music journalist?

At a glance, Pale Glow seems to come from the shoegazey side of ambient music, as the nine tracks offered on In Dreams Awake are titled in that long, cumbersome way shoegaze artists love. Every Moment Is A Beginning. Perceiving Imperceptible Things. Waking Is A Prelude To A Dream. The Sunlight Clasps The Earth And The Moonbeams Kiss The Sea. Hold Infinity In The Palm Of Your Hand And Eternity In An Hour. A Reflection Of Nature.

The music's a little shoegazey too, in that radiant dawn, twee feeling one gets with the more chill aspects of that scene. Synth pads are delicate, bell tones twinkle like morning dew, rhythms barely a pitter-patter, while the tone remains exceptionally mellow and sun-kissed bliss. Is it just me though, or is every track in the same key? Doing a quick skip through sure makes it sound so. Was In Dreams Awake originally conceived as a singular piece? Despite track breaks, it does come off like one long track, so tonally consistent throughout as it is. Now imagine this album being presented as such, but also retaining the entire 66-word track list as the title too!

Curve - Cuckoo

Anxious Records/3 Loop Music: 1993/2017

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

Could Curve have been bigger than they were? Sure, anything's possible, even music careers for no-talent hacks like [redacted]. Should Curve have been bigger than they were though? Possibly. For sure they had their fame, carved out a respectable niche in the alt-rock scene of the early '90s. Trouble was, a lot of rock bands were carving out respectable niches in the alt-rock scene of the early '90s, a veritable golden era for the scene as much as it was for hip-hop or rave music. It took more than some regular ol' talent to stand out from the pack, and sometimes even having a unique look and sound might not be enough, that confounding 'luck o' the fates' having as much to do with one's success as any other factor. There's only so much attention to go around, and when the crowd is crowded indeed, some acts get lost in the shuffle, returned to with greater appreciation later down the road after the dust has settled and the wheat's been separated from the chafe. No more cliches, I promise.

In sounding like such an over-amplified soup of feedback-drenched goth rock, Doppleganger certainly had an identity of its own, but was a bit much to take in as a whole. In their sophomore effort, Dean Garcia and Toni Halliday show more variety in their songcraft, even opening up with an all-out noisy cock-rocker. It certainly got the attention of Trent Reznor, providing a rub on the single. From there, Cuckoo hits the same wall-of-sound highs their previous album did, but I do hear more space between the drums, guitar feedback, and Ms. Haliday's voice. In fact, a few tracks in the middle seem to reduce the backing instruments substantially compared to the rest of the album, almost as though the gain on the mixing console was suddenly taken down to a seven from an eleven. Unreadable Communication in particular almost sounds like it's shooting for trip-hop dubbiness, save a mid-song guitar freak-out. Was this intentional? I'd like to assume so, but it kinda' sounds like a mistake too.

Speaking of 'quiet', how about that Left Of Mother, Curve going acoustic! Okay, there's still plenty of layered pedal effects as the song carries on, but man, simple guitar strumming at the start is a handy reminder that this band can go mellow too. Overall though, I'm still astounded they were seldom tapped for movie soundtrack tie-ins. So many of these songs would play great over rolling credits of many a '90s action-thriller.

As for the bonus material in this expanded re-issue, it has the usual assortment of b-sides and rarities included. The remixes naturally grab my attention though, what with the aforementioned Reznor rub on Missing Link, and The Drum Club having a go with Half The Time. Plus, an outfit known as The Future Sound Of London do a rote acid-house thingy on the obscure song Rising. They probably won't amount to anything off of that.

Telefon Tel Aviv - Fahrenheit Fair Enough

Hefty Records: 2001

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

I've seen the name Telefon Tel Aviv around, though Lord Discogs tells me I've acquired but one track of theirs. Not even a track, actually, but a remix, appearing on the Impulsive! Revolutionary Jazz Reworked collection from Verve Records; apparently I compared their rub to a Hybrid tune. Even beyond that though, theirs is a name that's floated in the periphery of preferred IDM producers, a slightly underground option for those who dug a little deeper into the scene. They never had the promotional clout of a Warp or Mille Plateaux behind them, however, initially appearing on 'anything goes!' Chicago print Hefty Records (jazz! funk! post-rock! whatever Solo Andata is!). Guess when you're Americans making IDM, it takes a lot more effort getting attention, most eyes eternally fixated on whatever the Brits, Scots, Germans, and Belgians are doing. Making unique, captivating music is usually a good start.

Yes, I know 'unique music' is basically the whole selling point of IDM, where you gotta' sound completely different from your contemporaries if you're to stand out from the crowd. There's still some aesthetic cross-pollination though, otherwise you'd never see continuous namedrops of Aphex Twin, Autechre, Squarepusher, and Boards Of Canada when making comparisons. And guess what, I'm gonna' do it again here, Telefon Tel Aviv's debut album taking the hyper-editing glitchiness of Autechre, pairing it with the shoegazey acoustic melodies of BoC's The Campfire Headphase. Well, that was an easy review, what's for supper? Mmm, bacon-filled brussel sprouts sounds delish'.

On the great IDM hierarchy, Telefon Tel Aviv rated somewhere around Plaid, a recognizable duo with music folks quite enjoyed without ever being too challenging on the technical front. Fahrenheit Fair Enough is definitely the sort of album you'd marvel at in a blind purchase (before anyone knew who they were), and fondly return to as the years pass on. The titular opener is as strong a showcase for what you're in for with the Telefon Tel-stylee. Gentle Rhodes tones give way to clicky-glitchy-itchy beatcraft that I'm sure captivates ADHD sorts, but never overstay their welcome for those who just prefer some nice melodies (*cough*). A little guitar doodling joins with simple techno grooves, taking us out on more a nu-jazz tip. And none of this sounds convoluted or overwrought in the slightest! That ain't no mean feat in genre fusion this ambitious. Like, who ever heard of 'restraint' among braindancers? You either go as far as you can go, or don't go at all.

Most of the songs play out as above, chill opening tones, followed by some glitchy effects (even on the modern classical outings like Life Is All About Taking Things In And Putting Things Out... gosh, what a shoegaze title), heading into jazzy techno finales. No, not Detroit – these guys hailed from New Orleans whereabouts. Fahrenheit Fair Enough also isn't a terribly long album, though the Ghostly International re-issue does add a second LP's worth of archival material. Not a bad deal there, nosiree.

Supercar - Highvision

Ki/oon: 2002

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

Not shockingly, most reviews I write are filled with regurgitated factoids from other sources. Having gorged myself in certain scenes, however, I've some insight into artists, genres, and trends that may not be readily available elsewhere – I feel confident when I wax the bull about Ambient Album #314,219,110, it's with some knowledge on the matter. Even stuff I'm not so boned up on, like Japanese indie rock and pop, I can usually find some additional info, giving me a stronger foundation to work from – the wiki on Wednesday Campanella was most helpful. This Supercar though, I'm just not finding much from English sources, save one Hell of a loving 'review' for this particular album on Sputnik Music.

Holy cow, but does user davidwave4 ever get into it more than I could possibly hope to, settling for nothing less than calling Highvision Supercar's Kid A. That's... quite a comparison to make there, mang', one I've no idea is apt or not. Like, there's nothing on this album that sounds like Kid A - certainly no ambient drone pieces like Treefingers - but he's not making a one-to-one music relation. Rather, he's comparing Supercar's discographical narrative to Radiohead's, with Futurama being their OK Computer, thus Highvision their Kid A. More succinctly, Futurama was the schizophrenic embracing of technology, while Highvision is the uncertain merging, accepting that change has come, and we must make do with that reality no matter how unsettling it makes us feel. Sure, guy, you go with that. I never dove deep into Radiohead's music, so have to take other people's word that such proclamations of “this is [artist]'s Kid A” as legit. By the by, when did Kid A supplant Sgt. Pepper's that way?

Right, I should get into Highvision on my own terms, which means the best I can provide is a 'dumb listen'. No deep analysis of lyrics (I can't understand them most of the time, just like Radiohead's Thom Yorke!) or genre dissertation – just simple “d'is music do this, it make me feel like d'is!” interpretations. And whoa, that's quite the distorted techno kick opening things up in Starline. There's still a regular drum kit in play too, just with an added 909 crunchy-thunk. Then there's shoegazey guitars, dream pop singing, and it feels as though I'm being lulled into a hazy headspace. That's definitely a change of tone compared to the upbeat dance number of Futurama's Changes.

And that vibe is mostly maintained throughout Highvision, a remarkable feat considering the disparate styles of music among these ten tunes. Songs flit between electro-pop ditties (Warning Bell, Strobolights, I), shoegaze rock-outs (Storywriter, Otogi Nation), dreamy dance jangles (Yumegiwawa Last Boy), and whatever orchestra electro-glitch thing Nijiiro Darkness is. Heck, there's even a thematic return with closer Silent Yaritori, that crunchy 909 kick reappearing. And best of all, Highvision leaves me feeling elated and high in spirit, which is a better feeling than the dourness of Kid A.

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.

ACE TRACKS: September 2018

Ah, the 2018 releases are finally trickling in. Slowly, steadily, but surely enough. It just takes a bit of time for me to gather up some items that interest me, for them to filter through my convoluted alphabetical systematic approach in consuming them, and finally find my thoughts course through the neural membranes sending signals to the bones, tendons, tissues, and muscles that control my arms and fingers typing them such that they can be transmitted via other electronic pulses into a-

You know what, let's just end this here. We all know how long this path of over-explaining the blogging process can go. Still, it's remarkable all the little things that must correctly happen for my thoughts to have a chance to enter your eyeballs, no matter where you reside on this little life-sustaining ellipsoid. I'm getting way to philosophical right now, so *poop joke*, and we're off the ACE TRACKS of September 2018.


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
B°TONG - Monastic
Kubinski - Life Boy

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 6%
Percentage Of Rock: 0% ...unless you want to count folky Young and glitched-up Sweet Trip rock.
Most “WTF?” Track: Either some of those Dr. Octagon lyrics, or hearing the minor-trap in Perturbator. (it just not done, mang!)

Pretty good playlist, all round. Enough variety to keep things interesting as it plays, with a few genres getting the shine over others if you've a preference for it (yeah yeah, ambient always dominates). I know it's a wild coincidence, but I'm surprised how some of the Patreon Request music meshed well together. You'd think different people would have radically different albums they'd want highlighted, but maybe I've cultivated a certain kind of audience?

Sweet Trip - Velocity : Design : Comfort

Darla Records: 2003

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

This is what happens when indie kids discover IDM. Okay, that's not fair, Sweet Trip having debuted with an album that cribbed from acid and jungle drum programming. They were even featured on a couple compilations called Drum & Bliss - what, was Chill & Bass already taken? - and while such a title sounds daft, after hearing their tune Follow Me, yeah, it fits. However, considering their third and final album went full-in with the shoegazey dream-pop, it makes this middle album of Velocity : Design : Comfort stand out all that much more. With fancy production tools and tricks pioneered by ADHD studio rats and IDM wonks far more accessible by the year 2003, such that You Too could create a frenetic glitch-hop schmoze-fest if you so fancied, it seems Sweet Trip fancied it indeed.

I can only imagine the shock older fans had when first throwing this album on, opener Tekka a spastic glitchy, breakcore ditty, leagues removed from whatever 'drum and bliss' business Darla Records initially billed Sweet Trip as. But then it moves onto Dsco, as standard a gentle dance-punk jam as you'd ever hear. Familiar indie territory then, but completely out of sorts from that opener. I cannot deny wondering if this was even the same album, despite all evidence proving it was.

Velocity : Design : Comfort essentially plays out like that for the duration: glitchy IDM stuff, followed by dreamy indie fluff, often within the same track. The rock stuff, I quite like, though as I don't take in much of it in my regular music diet, I've no clue how it stands against the great contemporary dream pop pantheon. In any case, whenever tunes like Velocity, Sept, Chocolate Matter and Fruitcake And Cookies let the indie vibes through (mmm, such lovely vocal harmonies between Roby and Valerie), I'm down.

And that's funny, because I'm not an indie guy – I'm a 'techno' guy. You'd think it'd be all the electronic stuff that tickles my fancy – the twee glitch-hop of International and steady groove of Design : 1 sure do - but there's just so much glitch (just... so much), I too often find it excessively distracting and pointless. Like, all those stutters and fills in the minimalist To All The Dancers Of The World, why do that? The song's fine without them, and they add nothing beyond showing off some technical wankery. Are they there because they can be there? They don't have to be though. Why is this so dense, with so much going on all the time? You had enough sense to leave them out in the dreamy, wall-of-sound climax of the song, so why not the rest?

Hey, to some ears, such wankery is genius. I'm not about to deny them their thoughts. I'm sure that's even part of The Point in this album's concept (it's in the title, mang!). It just comes off needlessly overstuffed to my ears, and maybe even Sweet Trip's too, since they abandoned all that gimmickry when they released their third album. Just sayin'.

The Field - Looping State Of Mind

Kompakt: 2011

It shouldn't have taken me this long to get myself another album from The Field, but you know me. A darling techno act, lauded by indie media who don't usually fuss with 'techno', and here's ol' Sykonee, giving it that 'Drake Pass meme' pose, all the while pointing with a smile at some obscure ambient techno item. Not an out-and-out rejection, mind you, but I can't help but let these sort of releases sit on the back-burner for a few years, the hype passing long enough to approach it with fresh ears, unsullied by what Very Important People tell me I should be listening to. Though I do wonder, why have I still not gotten Mr. Willner's debut From Here We Go Sublime? Like, for sure I've heard it (yay streaming), but it's been over a decade since it first came out, more than enough time having passed such that I shouldn't feel like I'm just hoping on a hype bandwagon.

And it's not like this particular album of Looping State Of Mind wasn't equally hailed when it dropped. Right, maybe not quite the same Metacritic heights as Sublime, but still a darn good response from the usual suspects. Yet whereas Sublime continues to be held in reverence, Looping has kinda' fallen the way of Yesterday & Today, simply seen as just another record in The Field's discography that ever so gradually evolved his songcraft. Maybe it didn't help that it carried the white cover art from Sublime, so it's forever compared to that one (sure didn't help Yesterday's cause). Not to mention Axel flipped the cover-art switch in his next couple records, sub-consciously making us believe those albums were of more importance than supposed retreads. Crafty and diabolical, those cover artists.

Ah well, that just means I get to enjoy it more for the album that it is, and not some Very Important, genre-defining, upper-echelon work of techno mastery (or something). And me, I dig Mr. Willner fearlessness in utilizing more instruments into his brand of 'shoegaze techno'. The bassline in opener Is This Power is one of the grooviest I've heard out of The Field camps, while follow-up It's Up There coaxes out a suitably heavenly techno loop-fest before changing lanes for a lengthy, funk outro (well, as funky as white Germans doing techno can get). Elsewhere, Axel proves he could continue crafting epic, escalating, wall-of-sound techno beasts like Arpeggiated Love and the titular cut till the end of days without a hitch if he so chose.

Fortunately, he has a little more ambition than that, the final two tracks mellowing things right the f' down. Then It's White feels almost jazzy despite being no less loopy than his other techno works, while Sweet Slow Baby treads into abstract territory, its overlapping short loops having something of an ambient drone tone about them. Makes me want to check out where The Field went after this. Eh, what about that first album? Man, that's all in the past.

Curve - Doppelgänger

Anxious Records/3 Loop Music: 1992/2017

(A Patreon Request from Omskbird)

Though it's among the most mundane of critical platitudes, often repeated when digging around for associated info and insight into Curve's debut album Doppelgänger, I can't help but fall lock-step with it. So here it is, the quote emblazoned on promo stickers and adoring liner notes: “These guys were really ahead the 'curve', man!” Like, if I didn't know this came out in the early '90s, I'd have sworn it was a release from around the 'electronica' boom. Tunes like Already Yours and Fait Accompli could have rubbed shoulders with Republica and Orgy on compilations, while Horror Head might have appeared on a trendy, low-budget hacker thriller soundtrack. Toni Halliday could have paired up with a progressive house producer for a hit sing- no, wait, she did do that, with Paul van Dyk.

The music here does defy much of what rock was doing at the time though, such that they invented a whole new term for it. Fortunately, a couple other bands like Chapterhouse were doing similar things with ultra-dense effects pedals, so it was undeniable a new genre was being birthed. Yet despite getting lumped in with the nascent 'shoegaze' scene, Curve stood out from the pack, a rougher, noisier edge to their ethereal wall-of-sound, with grinding basslines and mechanical rhythms suggesting more an association with industrial rock (itself still developing). Throw in Ms. Halliday slightly Gothic look (that eye-shadow!), and it's no surprise the band might have fit snuggly within that scene too. But wait, all that distortion! Might they have also been grunge as well? No, no, the 'danceable' beats totally makes them part of the 'Madchester' brigade. Urgh, why you no easily fit anywhere, Curve?

Naturally, an album this seminal could only receive a super-deluxe double-CD re-issue for its 25th Anniversary, and 3 Loop Music doesn't hold back. Not only do you get the original ten-track album, but a pile of associated singles sprung from it, plus the original three EPs leading up to it (Blindfold, Frozen, Cherry), a couple live cuts, their obscure cover of the disco classic I Feel Love, and a bonus Aphex Twin remix of the track Falling Free! And by remix, I of course mean a standard On EP era track, with some of Toni's ethereal singing used as a pad. I think even his Jesus Jones remix retained more of the original. Ooh, there's another band I can't help thinking of while playing back Doppelgänger, though I'm certain folks would hate that comparison.

I'm kinda' beating around the bush with song specifics, because this 2CD package is honestly overkill. Curve's sound is neat and unique, but after two-plus hours of it with little variation, it all mushes into my head like an industrial shoegaze sonic soup. Sandpit offers a nice pure-ethereal respite, and the Blindfold EP material provides a quirky look at Curve's development (rapping!), but twenty- three songs (and an Aphex bonus) is just too much for one sitting. Needs more spacing for a full appreciation.

The Field - Yesterday And Today (Original TC Review)

Kompakt: 2009

(2018 Update:
Haha, look at 2009 Sykonee, throwing around the word 'trance' so casually in this review. Yeah, The Field's music is far more trancey than most things in the realm of tech-haus, but that's always been part of Kompakt's manifesto anyway. The pseudo-genre 'neo-trance', neighboring genres taking on trance elements, is a better descriptor, or if you want to be really daft, 'shoegaze techno' (there's a lot of daft folks at Discogs, by the by). Also, where was I going with that Underworld comparison? Sure, Willner's rub of Sasha's Mongoose on The EmFire Collection fit the bill, but not so much here.

It's weird to remember that, at one point, The Field and Burial were held in the same regard among music critics. The proof is in Metacritic's own aggregation, From Here We Go Sublime and Untrue both still holding top honors for "Best Of 2007" music, even above Radiohead's In Rainbows! However, one is constantly referenced with reverence, even getting documentaries made about it a decade on, while the other does not. I guess folks felt The Field's brand of music-making was too singular for a plethora of copycats to emerge from it, leaving Mr. Willner to carry on doing his thing to this day with little fanfare anymore. So it goes for many techno heroes of the '00s.)


IN BRIEF: Evolution.

Axel Willner had quite a thankless task in replicating the critical good-will of his debut LP From Here We Go Sublime, so it’s just as well he hasn’t bothered to try. His sophomore effort is carrying on as usual, as though that top spot at MetaCritic’s “Best Of 2007” doesn’t exist. And why should he care? Yes, the album was quite good, but reading several of the reviews, you’d think this was the first time the rock journals had heard trance music. Then again, it wouldn’t shock me if it actually was the first time many of them had heard trance music, at least of the non-epic variety. Surprising such folks who’d forgotten that electronic dance music could actually contain endlessly looping lovely melodies doesn’t seem that hard in this age of electro-glitch (has it really been so long since Boards Of Canada released Music Has The Right To Children?).

So obviously much of that initial love affair has subsided, and the buzz on Yesterday And Today hasn’t been anywhere near as enthusiastic. Oh, it’s received good scores - as it will here - but now that Willner’s tricks are familiar, the press seems far more subdued in its praise. It’s a shame, then, that Willner has managed to bring some fresh wrinkles to The Field that will go relatively unnoticed.

Touring with just a laptop for his ‘live’ shows must have felt highly constricting to ol’ Axel, as he’s brought in a few extra musicians to the studio to liven up the proceedings this time out. Drumming journeyman John Stanier is the most notable addition, along with one Dan Enqvist, whom brings an assortment of backing instruments to the fray (bass, guitar, piano, vibraphone). A few more rounds out the cast and what we’re given is a richly textured sound that tickles your ears at several frequencies while maintaining that loopy Field structure.

Oh, still not sure of what The Field even sounds like? Think Emerson-era Underworld, though without Karl Hyde’s nonsensical lyrics. The titular track on here alone is very much in the Underworld-vein, with an infectiously groovy rhythm and spacey synth work sucking you into a lengthy trance-trip. The 90s comparisons don’t end there, however, as final track Sequenced is very much like early ambient dub as championed by The Orb, though lacking Dr. Patterson’s odd sense of stoner-humor. Meanwhile, The More That I Do could easily draw Loop Guru similarities, with its tribal stomp and repetitive chant.

These are far from nostalgic love-ins or rehashes, mind, but if you’ve ever paid attention to EDM from the 90s, Willner’s tunes will bring back such memories of the era when similar material was getting massive play from all the British DJs. About the only track here that escapes a 90s comparison is Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime, primarily because it’s a cover of an early 80s song from synth-pop act The Korgis; granted, it’s given a fine contemporary spin to fit within Willner’s sonic palette.

Somewhat annoyingly, and not just because it makes this album review shorter than most, Yesterday And Today isn’t terribly long. Sure, the six tracks offered are worth your pennies, and it certainly doesn’t feel like it ends all too soon, but when the musical ideas are purposefully limited, it’d have been nice of Willner to indulge us a little more. There’s almost a care-free jazz-fusion jam-band approach to these: most of them just start and keep going from beginning to end, improvising around the basic melodies along the way.

Yesterday may not be as initially, er, sublime as Willner’s debut, but it is a worthy follow-up. By adding extra musicians to The Field, he’s made his sound more organic and nuanced. Here’s looking forward to album number three.

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

Seaworthy - Sleep Paths

Slaapwel Records: 2012

Ah, hm. Feel like I've gone into a rut here. The whole point of doing this alphabetical sequence is to prevent such things, to keep every subsequent item different from the last. And sure, there's times where runs of similar-sounding albums can't be helped – the 'Trance' month of 2016, for instance – but such instances are generally rare and at least expected when the moment comes. I never intended for so many shortish ambient releases to bunch up like this, and were they in my original regular queue, they'd at least be spaced out a little more. Or maybe not, items like Selected Ambient Works, Slumberland, Signals, and Solar Walk also among these 'S' albums. Maybe there's just something ambient composers are drawn to in this region of the alphabet, a physiological state of being that works well with ambient music. 'Smiling', that must be it.

So we return quite quickly to Slaapwel Records for another outing of single-song, lullaby music. No, seriously, that's what Sleep Paths is, a forty minute composition the 'electro-acoustic post-rock' band Seaworthy wrote as a beddy-bye time soundtrack for guitarist Cameron Webb's newborn child. Forty minutes is too long for such needs though, especially when so very little actually happens in this piece.

From the outset, you hear super-soft electric guitar plucking, gentle whispers of mechanical breathing, all the while droning reverb and delay effects blanket everything in a minimalist melodic haze. And that's it for the entire duration, cottony sounds meandering along without a care in the world, floating along a river of fluffy clouds. It's impossible to pay attention to Sleep Paths without your mind wandering even after a dozen minutes of this, and Seaworthy stretch things out as long as most toddlers are willing to nap for. I can't imagine anyone even playing such music live without nodding off themselves, gazing at their shoes to the point they've doubled over and passed out on their feet. At least Simon Scott's offering for Slaapwel had a sense of progression from start to finish.

Not that I'm saying Sleep Paths is terrible or boring or anything – it do what it supposed to do, and it do it well. It unfortunately leaves me with almost no talking points. Lucky for me, however, there was a Bandcamp bonus with this CD, Sleep Paths II, which has more going on than the original piece.

For one, it runs at a 'brisk' twenty-nine minutes, which makes better sense as a 'falling asleep' composition (if you haven't naturally nodded off after that long, music ain't gonna' help). Two, while the basic acoustic-droning elements remain, there's rhythm here, clinky percussion panning across the channels throughout. Sleep Paths II also changes form after a while, more prominent guitar plucking and layers of static fuzz added towards the end. Seems to defeat the purpose of sleeping music to have your piece grow more dynamic as it progresses, but hey, at least it gives me more to wax words over.

Valiska - A Day As A Blade Of Grass

Inner Ocean Records: 2013

I name-dropped this label a few months back, partly as a quip in yet another list of obscure ambient prints so many producers float to and from on. The only thing that honestly caught my eye regarding Inner Ocean Records is the fact it’s a Canadian outfit, not that anyone reading that particular review would know it (or maybe so, if they’re Porya Hatami completists). For whatever reason, I checked Inner Ocean a little deeper, and intrigued by their wares, snatched up every single CD their Bandcamp had on offer. All two of them. Quite a few cassettes though. Eh, I’ll pass on that format, thank you.

What’s even quirkier about that ‘splurge’, is of the two CDs I got, this particular release from Valiska, barely constitutes a traditional CD release. A Day As A Blade Of Grass is a single track, lasting all of twenty-four minutes, plunking it in the realm of EPs. It’s also the sort of release I’d expect to stumble across in the CD3 format ‘90s ambient labels would indulge in, before digital means rendered them moot. I’m surprised mini-discs haven’t also formed their own comeback as a hip collectable – they’re certainly no less impractical than tapes in our modern age. Maybe if Blood Music starts distributing them, we’ll see a resurgent market of CD3s.

Valiska is Krzysztof Sujata, and hails from Calgary (Inner Ocean’s base of operations), despite what you might assume based on his name (Polish India?). Although given the nature of the music within this album-EP-composition, it wouldn’t surprise me if he did originate from some Eastern Europe bloc homestead, that region flush with experimental ambient shoegaze-drone sorts; you sure don’t think of Canadian prairie country when it comes to this sound. He’s released about a dozen items this past decade (so sayeth The Discogs), some through his own means, others on various obscure experimental net labels that skew towards the indie rock side of things. He also happens to do digital mastering, so if you need a spit-shine to your drone-gaze glitch-twang demo tape while checking out the Calgary Stampede, give him a shout.

Though I currently lack the needed citation, I’ll assume A Day As A Blade Of Grass aims to literally capture what it’s like to live one’s life as a blade of grass – lawn, pasture, open field, Icelandic roof-top… any type of poaceae. Dawn breaks with tranquil, ambient pianos, solar photons providing our grass with vital energy to aid in photosynthesis. Soon though, abrasive, caustic distortion and guitar feedback emerge, disrupting the once calm mood. The animals and machines have come, trampling your space with hoof, claw, boot, and tire. Grazers chomp and chew at your surroundings, seldom leaving you a moment’s peace. Other sounds – reverse tape loops, detuned strings, grinding and clattering, feed a harrowing third act, respite only granted as the day finally recedes into night, our singular blade still alive for another day. Man, who knew grass had it so tough?

Khruangbin - The Universe Smiles Upon You

Night Time Stories: 2015

Damn, it happened again. I was woodhinked. Blambozzled. Tricksied out of my onesie. Led astray by a lass named Mary-Lee into the waiting clutches of Donald Van Baron Wolfenstein. I mean, is it really so hard in this day and age, for the electronic music section of a record shop to have exclusively electronic music? It used to be I’d find the ‘oontz-oontz’ occasionally floating about the Rap shelves (because Hip-House) or Rock section (because Industrial), but never a traditional band rubbing shoulders with my FSOL and 808 State. This isn’t even one of those indie ‘dream pop’ deals again, where some synths are utilized by such musicians.

Nay, Khruangbin (the name’s Thai, though the band’s Texan) is a pure three-piece, taking influences from obscure southeast Asian rock bands of fifty years hence. The only reason I can assume this ended up in the ‘Dance’ section is because The Universe Smiles Upon You comes care of Night Time Stories, a sub-label of LateNightTales, whom have had a long relationship with the chill side of electronic music, often tapping such musicians for their compilation series of the same name. Still, it’s not like Warp Records’ rock releases or Ninja Tune’s jazz outfits haven’t found homes in the wrong sections of record shops either, solely due to said label’s standing reputation within music scenes at large. Plus, how many LateNightTales CDs are filled with anything but electronic music anyway? No, really, I’m asking because the only one I’ve heard through is the Fatboy Slim one!

Anyhow, Khruangbin peddle in a light, breezy form of folksy rock that’s almost entirely instrumental. Only two tracks on this debut of theirs features lyrics of any kind - White Gloves and Balls And Pins - and often very simple ones at that. Deeply challenging words aren’t in Khruangbin’s plans, content in letting the listener drift away in their dreamy tunes drenched in echo and reverb. Mostly they go for a mild funk (Mr. White, Dern Kala, People Everywhere, and August Twelve with the wiki-wiki guitar licks), with a couple dalliances into soul, blues (Zionsville), and whatever it is Little Joe & Mary is doing with that slide guitar business (country? surf??).

I should mention these style tags are quite nebulous where Khruangbin’s sound is concerned. The honest truth is their music doesn’t tidily fit into any of those categories, the band an assemblage of AM soft rock from the ‘70s, with a touch of modern shoegaze thrown in for good measure. My old man made a comparison to Boz Scaggs when I pressed him for some insight into this sort of music, which forced me to take in more Boz Scaggs than the one song everyone knows from him to confirm. Yeah, I’d say the comparison’s apt.

All said, The Universe Smiles Upon You truly is a pleasant little album to throw on (even my Nan liked it), and despite my ranting above, a nice divergence from my usual fare.

Pantha Du Prince - The Triad

Rough Trade: 2016

Pantha Du Prince is Hendrik Weber, a very important person in the world of techno. Along with analog-loving sorts like The Field, he helped ease the scene out of its stuffy pretentions by injecting playful, melodic elements within. It was a desperately needed development following the dry, dank era of minimal ‘this are serious music’ techno, and ol’ Pantha toed the line between tough, functional beatcraft and heart-tugging sentimentality as capably as any producer. By the time his Black Noise album dropped in 2010, folks were so warmed by his charming bell tones and shoegazing timbre, the transition from minimal tech-house singles was practically an afterthought, proclaiming this was the proper Pantha Du Prince stylee all along. Well, except for those stubborn hold-outs from his earliest Dial days – sorry, guys, he ain’t going back to the micro-haus anytime soon.

Still, Black Noise came out in ye’ olde year of 2010, such an age ago compared to where techno has developed since. Bringing melody into your works is no longer such a taboo stylistic choice within this scene, all manner of producers getting their analog pad and hypnotic arp works on. Some see it as the growing influence of indie musicians ‘discovering’ techno (thanks, Pitchfork!), thus bringing their tricks of trade into the scene as well. For sure the shoegaze side of things has long shared attributes with chill-out genres (going by a wack moniker of, ugh, ‘chillwave’), but that it penetrated the traditionally uptight techno scene was remarkable. Oddly, whenever I hear this stuff, I keep thinking of trance music, albeit of a far classier sort than you’ll often find labeled as such. All hail ‘neo trance’!

What I’m trying to get around to saying is Pantha Du Prince’s style of shoegaze-tech-minimal-neo-prog-haus isn’t the shining beacon of light within a dour scene it once was – plenty of producers have caught on that you can make techno that’s rather chill too (but not ambient techno, that’s something different). That leaves his long awaited follow-up to Black Noise - The Triad - existing in a strange no-man’s land of expectations. Folks adored the last record, but are they really hankering for a return to that sound after so long, and with so many other options now available? And what of that all-important Artistic Evolution we demand of our techno heroes? Whatever is Pantha Du to do?

Carry on from Black Noise, it seems. The Triad is just as melodic with the bell tones and shoegazy with the floating vibes, though perhaps a little lighter on the dancefloor effectiveness. There’s a few tough basslines about (Chasing Vapour Trails, Lichterschmaus) but this is one subdued record compared to his early material. Ol’ Pantha’s far more interested in exploring open spaces between his beats and bells, with floating vocals, layered instrumentation (guitars, yo’!), and expansive pads edging his music ever closer to the domain of progressive house to my ears. I therefore dig this album, though it’s so stubbornly mellow, I find my attention drifting too often.

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.

Imploded View - Picnics With Pylons

Psychonavigation Records: 2012

Another day, another ultra-obscure Irish producer with an album on Psychonavigation Records. How obscure this time? Lord Discogs has nadda’ on Imploded View. No real name for the alias, no brief words regarding what the project’s about, not even a bloomin’ photo for the man. There are links to his Facebook, Twitter, and Bandcamp though, but you’ll find even less helpful background on the chap, one of the blurbs proudly proclaiming “Reluctantly/Happily testing the bounds of obscurity.” Hell, the only reason I have any notion that Imploded View is a dude is the inlay of this digipak has a picture of someone in silhouette that appears to be male. Not that it confirms anything, as any sex can rock the ‘short hair, oval head, high collar’ look. However, when someone refers to Imploded View as ‘Jerome’ on the Twoism.org forums, I’m gonna’ go with my hunch that it’s a He we’re dealing with. Only the finest journalistic sleuthing on this blog, yo’!

If the purposeful enigmatic persona, faded photographic cover art, and Twoism.org association weren’t clues enough, Imploded View is also another Psychonavigation Records artist that’s feeling the Boards of Canada vibe. Fortunately, it’s not quite as blatant as Ciaran Byrne’s Nine Lives Causeway was, the music here sounding distinct enough that you wouldn’t mistake it for a long-lost tape from the Scottish duo. For instance, the track Boring Robot has a way-laidback groove coupled with childlike charm and snippets of unintelligible voices – sounds like BoC’s Roygbiv, don’t it? Mr. View, however, adds a thick layer of morning-glow pad, as strained a metaphor as any I can come up with, but oddly apt. It’s like, Roygbiv is the track you hear before you head out on the night, and Boring Robot is the hazy recollection of that track come dawn.

That’s what listening to Picnics With Pylons is like, hearing tunes that vaguely remind you of Boards Of Canada, but through the murk of many years later. Which makes total sense considering the undeniable impact BoC’s had on producers fancying nostalgic downtempo analog jams. Not to be left out of the memory-fuzz stylee, a couple of these have that desolate, urban squalor Burial made his namesake too (Astral Airways, Snowflake Bentley). Others find their own, quirky path without any immediate signifiers, like the crisp beatcraft of Across the Snow, or the cinematic flourishes of trip-hoppin’ We Ivy. Or my limited experience in the field of ‘obvious Boards Of Canada musicks is obvious’ has left a gap in recognizing other notable names I should be droppin’.

Whether this makes Imploded View different enough for you to check out Picnics With Pylons out, that’s all up to you. Yeah, not the most winning endorsement there, and despite the unique things I’ve detailed, this LP’s ultimately still just another collection of modestly interesting downtempo music from Psychonavigation Records. ‘Jerome’ can craft some pleasant, quirky little numbers here, but as an album, this is but a bit of ephemeral fluff. Yes, fancy simile score!

Arpatle - The Day After

Psychonavigation Records: 2012

Look, when I said my trawl of Psychonavigation Records' blowout sale would reveal some super obscure producers, I meant it. Wait, did I say that? I can't remember now. That big purchase was many months ago, with so much more having arrived in my towers since. My initial fears of an over-abundance of the Ireland label's material in my current backlog queue is moot, plenty more albums breaking up any potential monotony. Not that the albums I did get are redundant retreads of the same sounds, oh no! I'm amazed just how diverse Psychonavigation's proving to be, and that's including me totally ignoring all the shoegaze rock stuff. Maybe a little chillwave though.

Then, our obscure artist for the day is Patrick Bossink, or Arpatle to those buying his music. You might remember him from the Psychonavigation compilation Psychonavigation Sampler 2013, and the cassette Ik En Jij, Allebei from Yoshimi!. Oh come on, there’s no way you’ve heard that one. Maybe one of Arpatle’s other albums though, Continuum from 2009 on Family Garden Recordings, or the recently released Quapi on Offshoot Records. The Day After is the LP lodged between those two in his discography, and I’m really struggling with the background details of this guy, aren’t I? It’s the entire internet’s fault, hopelessly scarce in info surrounding him. Lord Discogs just has him down as an ambient producer from Holland. His website has even less info than that, merely a window to his releases on various online platforms. At least Mr. Bossink wrote a few more lines for his Last.fm biography, mentioning he’s been studying Music and Technologies at the Utrecht School Of Arts. Yeah, The Day After totally has the markings of an arts student.

If anything, Arpatle loves treating the studio as a mini symphony, utilizing unconventional tones, sounds, and instruments in crafting his music. Opener Solstitium has something of a Far East thing going for it, but uses an xylophone (or some mallet instrument, I’m no expert) for its lead, then goes into an extended dubbed-out excursion in the middle before returning to the twee melodies. Follow-up Crickets nabs some field recordings of nocturnal critters (I hear more frogs than crickets), then goes for a minimalist excursion through dubby tones and treatments. Third track goes drone with its effects, though has a chipper country mood about it, as though we’re riding along some Western setting on our horses. On acid.

To abstract, you know those interlude moments on Future Sound Of London albums, where they indulge themselves with sonic collages and experimental doodling? That’s what much of The Day After sounds like, though tighter in composition. Some tracks, like shoegazey Arctic Trip and the lush ambience of Wake Me Up, are quite the treat for the ears. Others, like ultra-minimalist Headache and spacious Satie’s Birthday (so much space!), instead come off as Arpatle having some art-house fun in his studio. It’s all quite pleasant, though lacking musical muscle to stay lodged in your head for long.

Dogon - The Sirius Expeditions

World Domination Recordings: 1998

I’ve probably said what I’m about to write before, but I’ve been writing these reviews for nearly thirty-two months now. I’m bound to repeat myself a few times, return to salient points, and reiterate former rants when appropriate after a ton of time has passed between. And this fact, this tidbit of aged wisdom I’m about to impart, it needs repeating, must be repeated so we all remember its sage advice such when another generation emerges that deserves the knowledge. Whatever is this bastion of high intellect I’ve bequeathed upon thee hence, and shall do so posthaste? Yes, what is this peon of insight that will bring clarity of mind and soul to all that who shall now read it?

An album like Dogon’s The Sirius Expeditions would never have gotten attention without the ‘brick & mortar’ music shop, and that’s a darn shame.

Actually, I don’t know if that’s true anymore, what with a million and one micro-meme genres popping up every year now. A lot of those seem to start out as a joke though, something done as a lark to impress fellow young bedroom producers on a /mu/ hub, but man oh man do they get attention. Dogon, however, have some serious talent behind them, musicians that know their way around a studio and song craft. They’re loosely ambient, but that doesn’t stop them from going all esoteric with pseudo-jungle beats and whatever it is they’re doing in Plexus (big beat acid Orb jam?). They do ridiculously sentimental New Age tunes (Pah), mysterious ethnic –fusion dub (The Round Buddha Factory, Melonheart), sun-kissed hippie festival glaze-outs (a cover of Pink Floyd’s Fat Old Sun, and sorta’ follow-up Joven Flaca Luna), and brooding, meditative ambience (Locus Voci, The Unknowable). Naturally, the titular twelve-minute cut runs the gamut of all these features, then goes for the super-epic orchestral build to sell that cosmic journey.

Okay, I’m way overselling The Sirius Expeditions. The tonal shift throughout this album is jarring, making for a difficult playthrough. This is the sound of a group (primarily Miguel Noya and Paul Godwin, with assorted musicians joining in for the fray) with a ton of ideas but knowing full well their reach will be limited. Lord Discogs lists scant else by Dogon, two other albums and little more. So they go for the gusto, indulging in all their idiosyncrasies while proudly proclaiming “we’re not commercial, we’ve came to grips with ourselves with that”. It’s a wacky ride that’s at times exhilarating, other times charming, but equal parts confounding. I’ve played this many times over, thinking this will be the time it all clicks, yet something consistently holds me back.

Hey, at least I’m giving it repeated plays, something that can’t be said of many other CDs in my collection. And I’d never have gotten it too, if it hadn’t been idling on that Virgin Megastore shelf so many years ago. Praise be the random chance purchases, and all the bizarre musics that may come with them.

Boards Of Canada - The Campfire Headphase

Warp Records: 2005

Also known as that Boards Of Canada album with all the guitars. Fuzzy guitars, acoustic guitars, distorted guitars, folksy guitars, and, most definitely, nostalgic guitars. It can't be a Boards album review without that word getting in, so may as well do it post-haste. It also was the Scottish duo's last LP for a significant amount of time, some wondering whether it would be their final one period. If it had, The Campfire Headcase - sorry, Headphase - would have been a rather limp conclusion to the Boards saga, almost an afterthought of an album where their genre indulgences sidetracked them from whatever future-classics could come hither. Tomorrow's Harvest saved us from that fate. Now, instead of treating this album like a disappointing denouement to an adored career, we can enjoy it based on its own merits, just like these Boards Of Canada undoubtedly wanted anyway.

And as a self-contained album, separate from artist narrative, how is The Campfire Headcase - dammit, PHase? Sure, it’s good – I mean, would you expect any less? Boards, if nothing else, are experts at crafting warm, charming music on the trip-hop tip. Whenever they get too cute with their concepts, over-indulge in numerological Easter eggs, or waste potentially great tunes with pointless doodles, that’s where our intrepid non-Canadian Canadas stumble. Just give us music, mang, songs that we can hazily drift along with.

For all the lasting impression the guitar work imparted on this album, The Campfire Headcase - arggh, PHASE - maybe a third of the tracks actually utilize the six-stringers. Not that I blame listeners remembering it as such, so front-loaded on here as they are. It also doesn’t hurt tracks like Chromakey Dreamcoat, Satelite Anthem Icarus, and Dayvan Cowboy (which was also tapped for single duty on Trans Canada Highway) worm their way into the noggin as only ‘Boards Of Canada goes shoegaze’ music can. The other half of this album is Boards being Boards as per usual. Detuned, crackly synths, gorgeous ambience, functional rhythms, and a total lack of quirky skits.

Wait, that’s something new! You mean to tell me The Campfase Headphire (*sigh*... I’ll dyslexia a cure this for...) doesn’t feature any weird-for-weird-sake bits of children dialog, clips of National Film Boards documentaries, or whatever else that made Music Has The Right To Children and Geogaddi the distinctive albums they were? There are still ambient interludes, but even they typically run lengthier compared to prior LPs’ doodles, most breaching well over the one-minute mark (I forgive A Moment Of Clarity for being under, since making it any longer wouldn’t make it a moment). And man, those last few tracks - Slow This Bird Down, Tears From The Compound Eye, and Farewell Fire - my heart bleeds, it does.

While I wouldn’t recommend The Campfire Headphase (yes!) as your diving off point with Boards Of Canada, it’s a worthy addition to your collection if Musical Children has tempted you for more. Although, I’m only preaching to the converted, aren’t I?