James Blake - James Blake

Universal Republic Records: 2011

(a Patreon Request)

I was in serious music exploring doldrums in the year 2011, due to albums like this. Nothing specifically on it, mind you; heck, I didn't even bother checking if I might like it or not. When an act gets as hyped as James Blake did leading up to his debut album though, I can't help but give the ol' side-eye in response. The likes of Pitchfork and TinyMixTapes are praising him as their latest second coming, you say? Must be some insufferable indie-twat doing music outside conventional lanes, thinks I. Naturally, that's an entirely douche-nozzle position to take, but after so much indie-rag hype leading me to mediocre music, you can understand knee-jerk reactions to their recommendations.

Having now taken in James Blake from James Blake, I can honestly say: really? This is what all the hullabaloo was about? For sure, it's a perfectly pleasant little soul album, with a few contemporary UK garage tricks giving it additional flair and personality. And man, does Blake ever know how to maximize sonic space, his tracks remarkably sparse and empty, letting his voice linger not just with the delay and echo effects on his vocals, but even in the nothingness between another piano chord or bass throb. I've always felt the best soul casts the singer isolated and laid bare, with little distraction impeding what should be an intimate dialog between artist and listener. Obviously that doesn't always happen – Hell, at the pop level, soul can't help but get caught up in theatrics just like everyone else (do I really need to hear five octaves to know how much you feel that agonizing emotion?). Blake though, he shows welcome restraint in such gimmickry, things like multi-tracking his voice or digitally manipulating it into different octaves serving the needs of a particular song and nothing more.

So as an understated, honest little soul album, I did like James Blake, but still don't understand where all the hype comes from. Check that: I do understand where all the hype came from, especially from the indie-rags. They adored it because it's an understated, honest little soul album, when it wasn't supposed to be an understated, honest little soul album. James Blake was anticipated to be a saviour for a dubstep scene having succumbed to all that was bro, bringing class, cleverness, and prestige back to a once-hot underground movement. He was supposed to do that within dubstep's parameters though (or post-dubstep, or future garage, or etc.), and he didn't do that here. Yeah, there's some sub-rattling bass frequencies in tracks like Limit To Your Love, and twisted garage-soul in I Mind, but those are exceptions to the general style James indulges in here.

And honestly, his soul doesn't sound much different from stuff on Dusted's album, though as released via Hyperdub. And that's fine – I likes me some Brit soul every now and then – but in subverting everyone's expectations, yeah, small wonder indie folks tripped over themselves showering the hyperbolic praise.

Groove Armada - Lovebox

Jive Electro: 2002

This may be Groove Armada's fourth album, but I always think it's their second. Once again, I blame my Canadian exposure to the band Andy Cato and Tom Findlay built. Their first album, Northern Star, was a non-entity in my hemisphere of the globe, such that we all figured Vertigo was their debut (only the Brits knew better anyway). And while Goodbye Country (Hello Nightclub) was the hotly anticipated follow-up to Vertigo, I can't say it made much of an impression in these here parts, for two reasons. One, the cover-art was kinda' drab, a homely thing that looked more like any dozen of chill-out compilations floating about at the time (reminds me of something off Late Night Tales), thus easily lost on store shelves. Two, the album had the unfortunate timing to be released on September 10, 2001. Uh, yeah, North American folks were gonna' be a tad more preoccupied than scoping out a new Groove Armada record.

Lovebox though, there was no missing that, what with it's big neon artwork against a stark black backdrop, released a year after most nations had regathered their wits. The quick turnaround into another LP caught many off guard, figuring the Armada lads would have wanted their Goodbye Country material to gestate a little longer. On the other hand, with I See You Baby and At The River still getting more airplay than anything in their current discography, it wouldn't surprise me if Misters Cato and Findlay were hit with a surge of inspiration to make music as far removed from those tunes as quickly as possible. Even they had to be tired of hearing about sandy dunes and salty air.

Aside from hot neon colours, you know what else was creeping into clubland around this time? Good ol' fashion 'rawk', the sort of drunken, rowdy business new wavers so often indulged in Back In The Day. Disco punk was peeking its head outside of New York City enclaves, and there was something irresistibly trashy about this new-fangled 'electro-house' biz'. Groove Armada must have noticed these underground developments, as Lovebox features some of the rockiest dance music I've heard from the year 2002 (very small sample size).

Like, there's no denying where their heads are at opening an album with a song called Purple Haze. It's a suitably heavy, thumping groover that doesn't sully the Hendrix song at all, while Groove Is On gets more on that funk action for your all-night festivities. And if those weren't enough to let your hair down, Madder is a fun head-banger tune. Then there's some obligatory house jams (Final Shakedown going a little garage, Easy going a little disco, Lovebox going a little deep, and But I Feel Good going a little ...reggae?), and some soulful downtempo cuts too. Oh, and Remember reminds us that, yes, if Groove Armada wanted to keep rehashing At The River forever after, they could easily do so with skill and finesse. They just, like, don't want to, that's all.

Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams

Universal Motown: 2007

RZA was scoring movies. GZA was rapping about cars. Method Man was more interested in acting. Raekwon was holding out on the album everyone wanted from him. Masta Killa had a surprisingly solid debut though, and Ghostface was flying high, but overall, things weren't looking so hot for the Wu-Tang Clan. Then ODB died, and folks wondered if that would be the final wound that would end the hip-hop juggernaut. Fools. This, above all else, was the rallying cry to bring the Clan back together, in honour of their fallen brother. Proving all their doubters wrong that their time had passed probably wasn't a bad motivator either.

They had to find themselves in a bit of a pickle though. Hip-hop was a far different beast in the year 2007 compared to their '90s heyday. Crunk was now the hottest shit on the market. Meanwhile, Kanye West had almost single-handily put gangsta' rap to rest after beating 50 Cent in their duel of market supremacy (the infamous Graduation - Curtis showdown). Did the Wu have anything fresh on offer in this new world?

The RZA certainly did, in that he'd amassed an arsenal of instruments, offering more creative freedom than he'd ever had before. There's still funk and soul samples throughout 8 Diagrams, but unlike days of old where they'd be looped over a twitchy beat, there's more freeform funk going on here as instruments strut their stuff. It was a significant step forward in RZA's songcraft, though not everyone was entirely on board with it, Ghostface and Raekwon especially vocal about their concern over this change of musical direction for the Clan.

I can understand why. Musically, 8 Diagrams is a creative album, with plenty of strange, warped twists and turns of funk and soul coming at you. Unfortunately, it kinda' overshadows what the actual MCs of Wu-Tang bring to the table. Everyone sounds fine and all, some members more fired than their solo stuff (Method Man, Deck), though lacking much evolution in their usual topics of street tales, battle-raps, and livin' large. Plus, the bangers on this album don't go as hard as some of their classic material, tracks like Rushing Elephants and Wolves oddly muted for the energy they're trying to generate. The only time things get proper-Wu hard is Stick Me For My Riches, where Mathematics brings southern bounce to the party. Also, with so much musical exploration on RZA's part, the album doesn't really coalesce into anything more than an assemblage of tracks for their own sake. Aside from proving they were still kicking it, there's no real 'statement' being made about hip-hop at large by the Wu-Tang Clan here, as so many had expected

Ultimately though, 8 Diagrams is worth having just for the final track, Life Changes. Here, the Wu offer their final farewell to the deceased Russel Jones, one of the most heartbreaking pieces of hip-hop I've ever heard. You just ain't human if you don't feel something welling up from this song.

Cottonbelly - X Amounts Of Niceness (NYC Sessions 1993-2004)

Wrong Records: 2004

Way, way, way back in the early days of TranceCritic, I'd post lists of albums I'd bought with intention to review, updating it with each purchase. Figured it was a handy way of letting our scant readership know what to expect, when I'd average around one review every two weeks (such work ethic). I usually met my quota, but one item I listed continuously popped up on those lists that never materialized was this particular collection of tunes produced by Cottonbelly. I simply had no clue how to approach it. While by no means the most obscure thing I'd have thrown up on the fledgling website, I still had scant information to work with. There wasn't much in the way of liner notes to help, Lord Discogs was still in its early stages of utility, and I was too lazy to search the wider web for whatever knowledge nuggets might be floating out there. Besides, who reading a 'trance' website would care about a dubby, jazzy, world-fusion, downtempo guy? Okay, a second one – Bill Laswell was already pushing it.

But finally, Mr. Cottonbelly's time to shine has come at last, even if only at the tail end of a years-long, insane project I've inflicted upon myself. And fortunately, there's more Discogian Data at my disposal than ever before! Not that there's much there anyway, X Amount Of Niceness the only long-player to his credit. Truthfully, he was more known as a remixer, of which many of his works are collected here. The first tune I ever heard from Cottonbelly was, in fact, a remix of Noiseshaper's The Only Redeemer, plus that nifty Tempest Dub tune that appeared on Quango Records' Dub Selector compilation. Surprisingly, that cut doesn't appear on here, though one of his earliest works do, in Edge Test 1 from 1993. That came out on Edge Records, a label established by Gordon Matthewman. Hm, Cottonbelly's real name is Stuart Matthewman. Might these be brothers? If so, that was awfully nice of Gordon to give Stuart a break like that. I wonder what other credits Stuart Matthewman has. *dives down the Discogs hole* Oh! Oh my...!

Turns out Mr. Matthewman is a member of Sade, the British soul-jazz group with huge hits throughout the '80s. They went on hiatus after 1992's Love Deluxe, so Stuart pursued his own musical interests as Cottonbelly throughout the '90s. This included doing remixes for Gregory Isaacs (Night Nurse), The Ananda Project (I Hear You Dreaming), Maxwell (Luxery), and Cirque Du Soleil (Africa ...no, really!). In the meanwhile, he carried on making his own brand of dubby reggae jams, comfortably rubbing shoulders with the likes of Kruder, Dorfmiester and Thievery Corporation.

All his works are definitely of a 'niceness' quality, and he probably could have maintained a tidy solo career in the downtempo scene to this day. However, when Sade reconvened in the new millennium, it effectively put an end to the Cottonbelly era of Mr. Matthewman's discography. Too busy touring, I guess.

Ghostface Killah & Adrian Younge - Twelve Reasons To Die II

Linear Labs: 2015

Aawww yeah, you knew this concept was too good for just one album's worth of material. It was clear as a desert day that Adrian Younge and Ghostface Killah had great chemistry together, that they should work together on another project. So they reconvened a couple years later to tell another tale about twelve ways to die, this time with Ghost's old partner in prime, Raekwon. For the spirit of Tony Starks (Ghost's mobster alias) could not completely rest, his soul still trapped in those vinyl records his body was cremated into, waiting to emerge again should some poor sap spin them once more.

Fast forward a few years, and while tales of the Ghostface Killah taking out members of the DeLuca family in Italy persist, it didn't impact their syndicates across the globe, including a stronghold in New York City. As the '70s took hold and inner city black communities started gaining more influence, one man rose through the ranks to create his own mob fiefdom, Raekwon's character of Lester Kane in this tale. Gee, the Chef playing a mafioso type? Who'd have thought!

Natrually, a turf war breaks out. One of Kane's raids lands him a treasure trove of stolen goods from his enemies, including the legendary records said to hold the spirit of the Ghostface Killah (who's been idling away watching events unfold – this is technically a Ghostface album, so things are mostly told from his perspective). Also captured is Logan, the woman who betrayed Tony Starks to the DeLucas, plus her son who just may be his illegitimate child. When the DeLucas retaliate, however, they wipe out Kane's family too, urging Rae' to strike a deal with the devil: he'll release Ghostface from the record, and in exchange for gaining his power to exact his revenge, the spirit of Stark will take over Kane's body, killing him in the process.

Considering how tied the two have been throughout their careers, the symbolism of Ghostface and Raekwon merging into a single being to do dastardly deeds seems appropriate. In a surprise twist though, Ghost' reneges on the deal, instead taking over the body of... his own son! Hey, this still is a gothic horror tale, in the end!

*whew* Quite a recap there, and if it seems I skimmed over details, I didn't that much. Twelve Reasons To Die II is shockingly short as an album, barely a half-hour long. I was honestly slightly disappointed I didn't hear more from Rae' on this, nor was I too fussed with the guest rappers (mostly playing roles of each crime family's goons). Still, Adrian's score of blaxploitation funk and spooky soul remains ace, playing all the instruments, at times sounding like vintage RZA with Ghost' riding the beats. A couple more tracks of Ghost'kwon (Rae'face?) enacting their revenge would have made this better, but it's still a gripping ride nonetheless. Not sure where they can take the story after this though, if Starks is resurrected and all.

Jamiroquai - Travelling Without Moving

Columbia: 1996

The only Jamiroquai album you probably have, if you're American. Or Canadian. Or Australian. Or New Zealandian. Yes, Travelling Without Moving was the band's major global breakout, finally cluing the planet Earth into what the Brits had known for a few good years – that acid jazz thing is rather quite cool an' funky, y'know. What's funny is despite being their best selling album by several leagues, Travelling Without Moving never hit the number one on the charts, not even in their native UK. Granted, competition was fierce for such a coveted spot that year, including The Fugee's The Score, Spice Girls' Spice, Kula Shaker's K (um, who?), George Michael's Older (he was still popular there), and... wow, Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill? She was obviously huge in Canada, but I had no idea the Brits also loved her that much.

So everyone knows Virtual Insanity, because everyone has seen the video for Virtual Insanity. Quite a few folks also know the retro-disco single Cosmic Girl, because cars. Some people might know the retro-funk of Alright and High Times, though I feel these singles would be better received in recent times, after hipsters and Bruno Mars made listening to such music culturally popular. Most of us on the Western side of the Atlantic weren't ready to accept non-ironic funk-n-soul back into our lives though (t'was all about that G-funk).

That's the singles, but if you're drawing a blank beyond the tracks that “had that cool video” and “was in that episode of Daria”, you can imagine how the rest of the album fared with general audiences. And that's a crying shame, because listening to Travelling Without Moving, you can hear there's some insanely talented musicians at work, fearless in their genre fusion even as the big, bold Billboards beckoned them.

Like, Didjerama, a pure tribal-dub outing with a didgeridoo lead! Then they follow it with more simmering didjeridoo action in the chill funk-soul session of Didjital Vibratations. Who does that on a 'pop' album, especially on the cusp of Spice-mania? Oh yeah, acid jazz guys, because they're all about finding the funk in whatever ways they can (it's not really a jazz genre).

Then there's funky Latin vibes in Use The Force, boppin' reggae vibes in Drifting Along, more disco vibes with the titular cut, more funk vibes with You Are My Love (wee, Moog action!), plus a couple soul outings too (Everyday, Spend A Lifetime). Because you need that love-makin' downtime when there's this much freakin' funk funkin' around. And just in case you forgot what year this came out in, Do You Know Where You're Coming From? gets in on that trendy jazzstep action. Can't be an acid jazz album without d'n'b, I guess.

Given it's sales numbers, it feels weird to say that Travelling Without Moving is an overlooked gem of funk and soul music. Considering the only thing most folks remember from it is an associated video though, that's sadly the case. No more excuses!

Various - Sounds Of The Seventies: The Late '70s

Time Life Music: 1993

This was volume thirty-four out of a series of thirty-seven, and don't this come off like the crusty teat of a withered cow. Sounds Of The Seventies had already given the late '70s ample representation with two rounds of yearly spotlights. Following that, titles such as Seventies Top Forty, Guitar Power, Dance Fever, Punk & New Wave, plus several featured looks into FM Rock and AM Pop rounded up the stragglers, plus three more CDs of AM Nuggets after this. No other compilation in this series highlighted such nebulous ideas like “early '70s” or “mid-'70s”. What gives?

Time Life Music gives their reasoning as thus: “The late '70s was a schizophrenic time for pop music.” Basically, this CD is intended to showcase the myriad genres hitting the airwaves, much of which had little to do with each other. When your opening three songs include Donna Summer's true-disco hit Last Dance, The Village People's camp-disco hit In The Navy, and Boston's silly rock anthem More Than A Feeling, it does impart a sense that things were going a little kooky towards the end of that decade. America, if you thought that was weird, you should have heard the synthy sounds emanating from Europe and Asia too!

Seriously though, there are some interesting contrasts on this CD. The theme to Happy Days is on here, and that's followed by the MTV defining Video Killed The Radio Star from The Buggles, which I always assumed was a 1980 tune because of MTV. Nope, 1979 was when it was released, a technicality but still fits with a Late '70s theme. Punk gets a look-in by way of Blondie's Dreaming, which is followed upon by the... country soft rock (?) of Dave Mason's We Just Disagree. The sultry side of funk-n-soul gets repped by Marvin Gaye's I Want You and The Manhattans' Kiss And Say Goodbye, and rockier outings from John Stewart's Gold, Andrew Gold's Lonely Boy, and Bob Welch's Ebony Eyes show up. Um, yeah, most of the kick-ass rock tunes were already used up in prior Sounds Of The Seventies CDs.

That's one thing I'll give some props to this series though, always featuring fresh tunes with each volume. I sifted through each one, and didn't spot a single repeat, a remarkable feat considering not one instance of Neil Young showing up (da'fuq!??), not to mention nearly no synth music included – Hot Butter's Popcorn did show up though, because how could it not? I suppose there's a couple examples of synth on this CD too, like The Buggles, and the Moog solo on Alan O'Day's Undercover Angel. And let's not forget Minnie Riperton's Lovin' You! While that tune's about as un-electronic as it gets, it found a new generation of interest after The Orb sampled it in their breakout A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That you know the rest of it. So in true 'begging-chosing' fashion, rave music finally gets its nod in Sounds Of The Seventies.

The Prodigy - The Dirtchamber Sessions Volume One

XL Recordings: 1999

DJ mixes were proving rather bankable at the end of the '90s, some shifting equal numbers of units as LPs from established artists. Well shit, son, a few of those established artists were DJs before they made it big with their original productions. Wouldn't hurt to put out a mix or two while between albums, keep the brand out there, maybe drop a little music knowledge on unsuspecting crossover fans in the process. Actually, I don't think that worked. While working at a music shop when such mixes came out, every time a curious costumer only familiar with the radio hits would sample one, they couldn't figure out why there were so many songs all mashed together - they didn't even sound like the radio hits in the first place. (every. time.)

For those more boned up on rave culture, DJ culture, and trainspotting culture though, such mixes were fun items to indulge in. A chance to revisit history, hear the origins of famous samples, discover the influences of a current crop of stars, and be reminded that big acts like The Chemical Brothers and The Prodigy had more in their arsenal than a knack for a catchy hook and a beefy beat.

The Dirtchamber Sessions was Liam Howlett's stab at a commercial DJ mix, and is as much a study in everything that created his unique brand of brash, bold dance music. Having come up through the sample-heavy era of DJing, laying out a dozen tunes in a computer-perfect sequence just wouldn't do for him either. There are forty-nine tracks listed in the credits, some barely twenty second snippets, all ranging from classic rave, vintage rap, bratty punk, and Madchester rock. Plus a Barry White tune lodged between Beastie Boys and Public Enemy, because why not?

There's also Bomb The Bass, Jane's Addiction, Frankie Bones, Sex Pistols, Meat Beat Manifesto, Herbie Hancock, James Brown, Ultramagnetic MCs (gotta' get in those Kool Keith verses), Digital Underground, Primal Scream, Renegade Soundwave, LL Cool J, T La Rock, KRS One, and loads more I'm not familiar with. Plus don't forget newer cats like Fatboy Slim, Propellerheads, and London Funk Allstars. The one that threw me for a loop though, was The KLF's What Time Is Love? - at that point I only knew them for their anthem house hits off The White Room. Of course the anti-establishment manifesto of Cauty and Drummond would be something Howlett would relate to, but all I thought was, “wow, never thought I'd hear such a commercial tune in a mix like this.”

As the above attests to, the tracklist is hectic and eclectic, with tons of mash-ups and quick mixes keeping the pace going. The Dirtchamber Sessions is also surprisingly short, not even forty-three minutes long. No sense blowing one's load in a Volume 1 I guess, but we never got a Volume 2. Might be interesting to hear a 'post-Millennium' follow-up, though I can't imagine it containing as dope of tracks as found here.

King Midas Sound - Without You

Hyperdub: 2011

How odd is it that this Kevin Martin project immediately got a remix album, but none of his Bug material has. Even the critically lauded London Zoo only got a few token EP rubs, and that was undoubtedly his most successful album ever. King Midas Sound, on the other hand, passed by with less buzz, quite a few folks not even aware it was another project from The Bug. Still, I sense it gained something of a 'musician's musician' following, where the savviest of UK Bass ears couldn't help but zero in on King Midas Sound's developments. I doubt Martin, Roger Robinson, and Kiki Hitomi planned it as such, but when I see a crap-ton of obscure, esoteric artists 'reworking' tunes for Without You, it makes me wonder exactly who's the target audience here. Like, were so many acts anxious to lend their aesthetic to the King Midas sound that Hyperdub had no choice but to release a remix album like this?

Actually, Without You is something of a mish-mash of older stuff and new material. If you missed out on the King Midas Sound debut record Cool Out, fret not for you get the wonk-jazz of Flying Lotus' rub on Lost (eh, I'll pass) and Dabrye's weirdo synth-pop stab at One Ting as a hidden track (noice!). Both remixes on the Goodbye Girl single also show up, Without You kicking off with Kuedo's ker-lumpity bass-clump of G.G., plus Mala's tribal dubstep of Earth A Kill Ya. It ain't bad, but compare it to the bizarre place art-poppers Gang Gang Dance take the original moody number - I'm left speechless! The original was a fairly minimalist, menacing piece of spoken word dub music, whereas Gang Gang turn it into something you might expect from an Orb and Youth collaboration: all chipper, flighty, and filled with silly sounds. And yet Roger's words remain just as poignant in this setting as the other. How'd Gang Gang do d'at?

All the new songs are given 'revoice' credits, including the titular cut with a D-Bridge rub that's almost ambient dub. Kiki gets to showcase a little Japanese knowledge with Tears, Cooly G brings some R&B sultriness to the fray in Spin Me Around, and Joel Ford does his own croon in Say Somethin'. Not to let all these urban voices dominate, Green Gartside of the indie band Scritti Politti shows up in Come And Behold. It's... an odd contrast to the rest of Without You's thick haze of grimy dub ol' Kevin drenches his productions in.

In case that's not enough, other remixes go for weird abstraction (Robert Aiki; Ras G & Afrikan Space Program; ooh Deep Chord!), or familiar Hyperdub future garage (hey Kode 9; yo' Hype Williams). In all, Without You is a warped trip through the disparate muses of various musicians, the only thing holding it together being Kevin Martin's faith in letting all those invited stretch wherever they want. Well no wonder so many wanted in on this 'remix' album!

Various - Winter Chill 2

Hed Kandi: 2000

Something funny happened in the year between the first Winter Chill and its inevitable sequel: chill-out music as a commercial juggernaut became a thing. For sure it's always had a marketable undercurrent within club culture, dating as far back as when The KLF specifically made an album to chill out to called Chill Out. Whether it be ambient dub, Balearic jazz, trippy hip-hop, or whatever trendy, laid-back vibe was currently circulating, mentally exhausted punters could always rely on a few selections in the music shops to ease their frazzled brains. Then someone in the high towers of record labels realized there were more folks out there who could use a little downtime music in their lives than the Ecstasy Generation, and chill-out compilations suddenly exploded upon the scene with several CDs featuring the same songs you already had in a different order. Sure as shit Hed Kandi wasn't immune to this trend.

Think I'm exaggerating? Second track on Winter Chill 2: Moby's Porcelain. Third track: Chicane's No Ordinary Morning. Fourth track: Delerium's Silence. Tenth track: Thievery Corporation's Lebanese Blonde. CD1 also features songs from Bent, Goldfrapp, Dusted, A Guy Called Gerald, and The Beloved. You getting a sense of familiarity yet? Hell, CD2 opens with Paul van Dyk's Vega! Yeah, it's a nice enough chill tune, Mr. Van Dyk having a stab at jazzstep, but these are all darn obvious names to have on a chill-out collection, even for the year 2000 when the concept still had a fresh fragrance. The series did course correct in later volumes, though Winter Chill itself only lasted six volumes before Hed Kandi was bought out by Ministry Of Sound, save a one-off return in 2012. You bet your bottom dollar its got nothing to do with 'chill-out' music!

Back to Winter Chill 2, even Hed Kandi head-man Mark Doyle knew including the likes of Moby, Delerium, and Paul van Dyk was little more than a shameless commercial tactic to lure in the impulse buy, and thus ignores such artists in his inlay notes. Instead, he once again big-ups his label's own talent like the jazzier Afterlife and Urban Dwellers, which is fair play if you're having them rub shoulders with chill-out's newest stars.

If all this 'suburban downtempo' music isn't cutting it for you, there's always CD2. Vega aside, this is where most of the trip-hop and acid jazz vibes are hiding out, many tracks care of the rising Studio K7! that Mr. Doyle was quite eager in hyping. Thus you find Tosca, Terranova, Smith & Mighty, Handsome Boy Modeling School (Dan The Automator!), and... LTJ Bukem? Well, he did have a debut album out that same year. And yeah, CD2 is definitely more of the downtempo vibe I prefer in compilations of this sort, with plenty of smooth, smokey rhythms, soulful strings, dubby atmosphere, and sultry vocals throughout. As a means of introducing music on a proper deep tip to soccer moms who bought this for Silence, I'd say Winter Chill 2 does right.

Dusted - When We Were Young

Nettwerk: 2000/2001

It's criminal the amount of folks who overlook this album. No, I've empirical evidence backing this up, barely four-hundred copies owned by denizens of Discogs. By comparison, over twenty-seven hundred Discogians have some version of Outrospective from Faithless, Rollo's main super-famous popular project. But I get it: despite the glowing critical praise Dusted earned with this debut, few knew what to make of it. It didn't help ol' Roland isn't much of an attention hound, always hiding in the producer's cubby while others reap the glory from his efforts (Sister Bliss, Maxi Jazz, Dido), to say nothing of Mark Bates' contributions here. There was little media promoting it too, just a Deep Dish remix and a rather crap CGI video supporting the lead single Always Remember To Respect Your Mother. And while the artwork is an obvious homage to Maurice Sendak's Where The Wild Things Are, it's not the sort of style your average punter is gonna' find themselves drawn too. Nay, wait until they're at mid-life, and reflections on childhood innocence while tending to a child yourself becomes far more poignant.

That, in a nutshell, is likely why When We Were Young failed to gain 'classic album status' despite all the musical muscle supporting such an honour: its audience was just too niche. Still, folks weaned on copious amounts of Faithless should vibe on the opening few tracks. Childhood sets the stage in a dreamy morning-after bliss as many of Rollo's best chilled-out instrumental pieces so often do, while follow-up Time Takes Time goes for more of a soul-fusion slant. Want U and Hurt U tread into trip-hop territory, with a growing sense of youthful uncertainty and anxiety coming to grips with experiencing such emotions for the first time. Capping this stretch off with the creepy If You Go Down To The Woods, as though you're lost and alone in an unknown world, and you're more than ready to accept the loving, tender embrace of Always Remember To Respect Your Mother, Pt. 1, Dido's operatic vocals carrying you to places safe and warm again.

And that's just the first half of this brilliant album!

From there, When We Were Young grows more mature sounding, soulful croons from Luke Garwood mostly leading the way. There's further dalliances into trip-hop (Always Remember To Respect Your Mother, Pt. 2, Winter), cheeky weirdness for a 'lawf' (The Oscar Song), gospel exuberance (The Biggest Fool In The World, Under The Sun), and folksy reflection (Oh, How Sweet, If I Had A Child). And yeah, these are just broad genre descriptors, as Rollo and Bates never settle into any one tidy style, fusing everything into a sound that's unmistakably theirs. I mean, you've heard it before, during the downtime in most Faithless records.

When We Were Young is essentially the mellow-chill creativity of Rollo unleashed – no need of adhering to club anthems or Maxi Jazz lyrics here, my friends. If that isn't enough of a selling point of this album, I don't know is.

King Midas Sound - Waiting For You...

Hyperdub: 2009

Stupid of me sleeping on this when it first came out. I was fiending for more material from Kevin Martin after London Zoo, ready to hear any and all music The Bug had to offer. But not enough to follow developments in his other projects apparently, King Midas Sound making their debut in a flash before receding from the limelight again. Part of that was due to timing, Waiting For You... coming out at the tail-end of 2009, when I was burnt out keeping an ear to the pulse of electronic music for review purposes.

It's also a case of the group almost deliberately eschewing much media marketing, doing a few requisite interviews and tours, but not much else. Even Mr. Martin seemed hesitant in letting folks know that The Bug had a second project called King Midas Sound, one gestating in the background almost as long as his work for London Zoo had been in progress. Waiting For You... went so overlooked, there's no review for it at Resident Advisor, though one for lead-up single Dub Heavy Hearts And Ghosts, plus follow-up remix LP Without You. Still, that makes me more hip than RA now, right?

We did all finally catch up to this conglomerate of Kevin Martin, singer/crooner/spoken-worder Roger Robinson, and singer/artist Kiki Hitomi. It was a slow burn, which makes sense as Waiting For You... has a feeling of needing lengthy time and many play-throughs to simmer into your soul. Those coming into it expecting more of Mr. Martin's crushing bass assaults won't find that here, though the bottom-end is dutifully represented throughout. Plenty of that trip-hoppin' dub action too, utilized in such a manner that it creates a wall of white noise where Mr. Robinson's vocals ride along, like surfing waves of mile-high sound. Other times he's completely enveloped by the layers of timbre, his voice just another instrument to- wait, I've already typed such a description before, haven't I, when I reviewed the Fennesz collaboration Edition 1. Darn it, it's such a good description though.

What's interesting is that Roger wasn't really known for a soulful croon prior to his team-up with Kevin, his prior performance experience mostly poetry over a rhythm. And there are a few tracks that go that route on this album too, such as the punchy, minimalist (and super-preachy) Earth A Killya, and the interlude Sumtime. Elsewhere he edges closer to a dancehall cadence (I Man), but by and large he carries a song with his soft croon. And he'd never done anything like it before! He figured he'd carry on doing the spoken-word stuff, but when Kevin persisted in hearing him sing a little, he realized that was what would make King Midas Sound stand out as something unique in the UK's urban scene. Throw in a few spacey additions from Kiki (Outer Space really does live up to its name), plus a couple dubbed-out instrumentals for good measure, and voila, Waiting For You..., a neo-soul album like few others.

Gorillaz - Humanz (Proper Review)

Parlaphone: 2017

I wonder what comes first when Albarn and Hewlett reconvene for another Gorillaz saga: the music, or the concept. Like, I imagine ol' Damon would have a few demos kicking around, and ol' Jamie would have a few sketches laying about, but what's the process coming up with all the intriguing backstory for their multi-media creation. I mentioned in the Kayfabe Review of Humanz that Russel Hobbs, the Gorillaz drummer with a myriad of urban American influences and North Korean incarceration, was a dominating force in how the album turned out, but was that just the story Albarn and Hewlett concocted after the fact, or did they adapt the music to serve the narrative?

Another example: there's not much of 2-D/Albarn's singing voice on Humanz. That's because the Gorillaz cartoon front-man was lost on a Mexican beach, subsisting on rotting whale meat and coarse sand (it gets everywhere). Luckily, he eventually found his way back to the studio to offer his vocal talents, but in his absence, guest vocalists Murdoc and Russel rounded up (re: Albarn connected with) took over most of the singing duties. Was 2-D's story planned this way, or made up on the fly when Damon realized his voice was taking more of a backseat on Humanz. It's a fascinating conundrum, the Gorillaz process.

Much has been said about the musical drift from 'mutant pop' of older Gorillaz albums, instead going for more of a funk, house, and soul fusion. Can't deny it was a little off-putting for yours truly, having repeatedly consumed their previous works rather voraciously in anticipation of this one. Then again, when I first heard Plastic Beach, I was initially put off by it as well, sounding very little like Demon Days. And even Demon Days I put off for years, figuring it couldn't possibly match the dubby, erratic fun of the debut album. Yet I've replayed all those albums multiple times now, as I'm sure I will with Humanz. Albarn never gives us the same thing twice with Gorillaz, and while that can be frustrating for those hoping for retreads of Clint Eastwood or DARE or On Melancholy Hill, they clearly aren't paying attention to the project's expectation-dashing intentions.

Fortunately, as I already have an affinity for house beats, and can dig the funk and soul if its got that Motown or Chicago vibe going, I warmed to Humanz quite quickly. Saturnz Barz is just as catchy as any of the band's previous dub-fusion tracks of years past, it's nice hearing Jamie Principle in the slinky electro of Sex Murder Party, and who can resist the uplifting swing of Peven Everett's vocals in house jam Strobelite? Plus ending the album with pure jubilation collaboration of We Got The Power (Jarre! Jehnny! A Gallagher!!), whoo! Ending it with such a musical cliff-hanger does leave one expecting though, but fortunately there's a 2CD version with bonus tracks that carry the party on a little longer. Of course I sprung for it!

Gorillaz - Humanz (Kayfabe Review)

Parlaphone: 2017

This is a band that always flies too close the sun with each release, co-existing just long enough to make great music, then utterly flame out as tensions, strife, demons (figurative and literal), distractions, and ego get in the way. True, it's almost always the fault of Murdoc Niccals, but then again there wouldn't be Gorillaz without his unholy deals vision – I mean, have you ever seen 2-D, Russel, or Noodles put out a proper solo album of their own? They may hate and resent his guts, but they cannot deny Murdoc provides them opportunities too.

But in this case, it seemed that Plastic Beach truly was destined to be their final work. Details are 'sketchy' over what happened at Point Nemo (because, haha, they're literally sketched in the Rhinestone Eyes video, hahaha!), but we finally do know where everyone disappeared to after the Boogieman's assault on the trash island, each involved on their own personal journeys of introspection, self-reflection, emancipation, and incarceration. This last one is most important, for we probably wouldn't have this Gorillaz album without it.

Murdoc could outrun pirates, gun-runners, and devils no problem, but one entity he could never escape is the record label, specifically EMI. They somehow tracked him down after his escape from Point Nemo, throwing him into a dungeon underneath Abbey Road studio, offering freedom on the condition he get back to making another contractually obligated Gorillaz album. That left him a pickle though, as all his former bandmates were missing elsewhere. Fortunately, resourceful sod that he is, Murdoc kidnapped aggressively invited a number of musicians to help make the album until he could find the other Gorillaz members (cyborg option outlawed in the UK?).

By chance, one of these musicians was guitarist Jeff Wootton, whom was letting a returning Russel crash on his couch. Seems Mr. Hobs had quite the experience after swimming all the way to Point Nemo, being mistaken not only for a whale, but also a North Korean kaiju, such that the isolationist nation captured him and put him on display. The experience helped him lose almost all the his mutated weight however, and upon being released and returning to London, heard word Murdoc was in the process of crafting another Gorillaz record. Mr. Hobs immediately joined him in studio to write and record for the album.

Humanz is thus filled with a fair bit of American-inspired funk, house, and soul. For sure there's other elements at work too, but for the most part it seems Russel's influence gave us the final result. About time, as he hasn't had much chance to share his muse throughout the Gorillaz discography since the first record. His time spent in a dictatorial country also apparently gave him a unique perspective in what sort of theme to approach the album with. For instance, what if Western society was also overrun by power-hungry lunatics at the highest levels of government, all the while allowing our culture to crumble around us. No way that could happen here though! Haha, ha.

Gorillaz - D-Sides

Parlaphone: 2007

So Gorillaz have been back in the spotlight these past six months, and absolutely I'll be getting around to their latest album. Maybe I'll even kayfabe it too, 'cause that's always fun, buying into the mythos Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett have crafted for their virtual band. We should be so blessed as to have a rag-tag assortment of miscreants, misanthropes, and misunderstood musicians shining a perverse spotlight on contemporary pop music. Okay, we already do have that, but no band features a member making deals with literal demons (and record executives), while another spends her non-music time slaying other demons. I wonder if the demon world has an underground scene dedicated to sampling the forbidden fruit of Gorillaz tunes.

Anyhow, as with every new album from this band, there's a multi-media blitz crossing all mediums promoting it, including new videos. And when you watch one Gorillaz video, you can't help but start watching all of them, then getting wrapped up in the lore all over again, taking in the short cartoons, the audio books, the puppet shows, and all that. It's just a shame there's but the three albums to satisfy the music craving though, a scant sampling compared to all the surrounding paraphernalia associated with the Gorillaz brand. And I've already got them, so what else is left? Oh yeah, the b-side collections. I totally missed out on those, didn't I?

Well, no longer, and gosh dag'it, why did I skip out on these in the first place? I suppose I wasn't quite so enamoured with Gorillaz at the time, and didn't think a double-disc of b-sides, alternate takes, and remixes of the Demon Days sessions was terribly enticing. Dammit though, that album just seems to get better every time I play it back again, so there's bound to be a few dope tunes that just didn't quite make the thematic cut. Yeah, a few.

If you felt Demon Days lacked the first album's wild eclecticism, D-Sides offers it in spades, twee hip-hop (Hongkongaton) rubbing shoulders with electro-punk freak-outs (Murdoc Is God, We Are Happy Landfill, The Swagga), electro-reggae (Spitting Out The Demons, Bill Murray), dream-pop (68 State, Hong Kong), and bizarro synth-funk (People, Rockit). Then there are the tunes that completely defy definition, (Stop The Dams, Highway (Under Construction)), so don't even try. Just sit back and chill-vibe on these wonderful slices of weirdo-pop, son.

CD2 holds all the remixes, and is a veritable who's-who of trendy indie dance-punk sorts of the mid-'00s. Hot Chip is here! Soulwax is here! DFA is definitely here, with their twelve-minute rub of Dare, which spends it's entire second-third building and building and building, only for a very long, minimal outro that undoubtedly had DJs all a'twitter. As these are remixes of the main Demon Days singles, the selection isn't terribly dynamic, tracks like Kids With Guns and Dare getting three apiece between the nine cuts. Fortunately, I quite like Dare, in all its incarnations. Play on, daughter.

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc Two: 1953-1957)

Verve Records: 1994

Right, it wasn’t just the nifty box-set design that caught my attention when buying this. The name Verve Records does have some pedigree even to those as unenlightened of jazz’s storied history as I, so it was a safe bet checking out a 50th Anniversary collection for a proper knowledge-drop on the music.

To simply call it a jazz label hardly does the Verve print justice though, adopting many other scenes as tastes and trends shifted through the ‘60s and ‘70s. They brought us the Righteous Brothers, The Velvet Underground, The Frank Zappa And The Mothers Of Invention, and assorted folksy music too. Jazz remained Verve’s breaded butter though, and even as the music slowly dwindled from prominence, it found a comfortable role in reissuing its back-catalog, all the while gobbling up other jazz prints as labels consolidated their assets into mega-labels. They’re apparently now under the Interscope Geffen A&M Records banner, but not before making stops with MGM, PolyGram, and Universal. I can’t imagine founder Norman Granz figured his print would ever take such a convoluted journey.

Before he set up Verve Records though, Granz had a couple other prints. CD1 focused on his seminal Jazz At The Philharmonic concert tours (not so much a label, but a cross-label brand), and Clef Records, which ran for a decade before being absorbed into Verve. Around 1953, Granz set up another label called Norgran Records, though it too was consolidated into Verve in ’56. It’s this five year period that CD2 cribs its material from, the mid-‘50s in all its boppin’ glory.

Yeah, there’s a good deal of the bebop groove here that’ll have you realizing where the roots of rock’n’roll originated from – the rhythm guitar was getting more opportunities to strut its stuff, that’s for sure. Naturally I’m fonder of this stuff, though hearing more blues-leaning jazz doesn’t hurt either. And while swing was essentially on the outs by the Fifties, that didn’t mean big-bands went by the wayside too, quite a few offerings of ‘orchestras’ on display here (minimum six musicians present, singer optional). I can’t help but think of grand Hollywood spectacles of hip, urban life while hearing these tunes, which is in stark contrast to the more modest, quieter pieces like Art Tatum’s piano solo Tea For Two and Benny Carter’s My One And Only Love - now I’m at a stuffy cocktail party.

However, the most prominent new addition to the Verve legacy CD2 showcases is vocalists. Obviously jazz music had singers before, but when Granz established this print, it was with promoting singing talent in mind. This included such vocalists as Anita O’Day, Billie Holiday, and Ella Fitzgerald, who he personally managed. In fact, the first official Verve release was a collection of Cole Porter covers sung by Ms. Fitzgerald. For my money though, that duet with Louis Armstrong (They Can’t Take That Away From Me) is the clear highlight. Dang near everything ol' Louis did was gold.

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?

Seven Davis, Jr. - Universes

Ninja Tune: 2015

The man comes from Texas, currently makes his home in California, released his first single on a print from Atlanta, and is apparently rather popular in Europe. And yet, when I hear Seven Davis Jr., I can’t help but think Detroit. Part of that is undoubtedly the fact his debut single, One, was something of a hit in the Motor City. No surprise there, the tune featuring a bumpin’ groove while oozing all sorts of soul throughout. The other tracks from there, Breaker and All Kinds, follow suite, getting tougher in their tech-house groove without ever losing their funk. It’s the sort of sound that’d have Moodymann boppin’ his head, and few things scream ‘Detroit soul-house’ like Kenny Dixon Jr. Secondly, Mr. Davis has his eyes on future-funk, showing little fear in letting some sci-fi soul into his works – even his adopted pseudonym comes off a tad geeky (numbers are, like, math an’ shit, yo’).

Having such a hit with his first at-bat attempt may seem like a wonderkid at work, but Seven Davis Jr. had been toiling away in the underground for a while before releasing One. With a background in gospel, he could have had a record deal much earlier, but instead decided biding his time was the smarter move, honing his craft ghostwriting for other musicians, making sure he was at the peak of his potential when he finally went solo. The success of One and follow-up P.A.R.T.Y. proved his planning fruitful, and in quick order, Seven Davis Jr. had plenty of momentum building to a full-length album. Always eagerly reaching into the trendy urban underground, Ninja Tune backed his ventures into the domain of debut LPs, Universes the result. Gotta’ keep that futurism theme goin’.

He doesn’t waste time in letting you know you’re in for a woozy ride either, opener Imagination a brief, simmering slice of druggy soul. A short skit of a starship computer awakening Seven from cryosleep for a gig (my interpretation), and we’re off on the shimmering ride of bright synths, peppy rhythms, and chipper techno of Freedom – Detroit future-funland funk lives! In fact, Universes is an incredibly ‘happy’ album throughout, tracks like Good Vibes, Sunday Morning, Be A Man, and No Worries rather light in mood compared to his early singles. Heck, Everybody Too Cool is practically taking the piss out of the ‘techno-funk are serious musics’ scene, all the while gleefully indulging in his Prince influences. And I swear that beat is sampled from the opening drums from Mississippi Queen!

Mr. Davis Jr. does offer us a few glimpses of his thoughtful side, getting deeper into the neo-soul with Fighters and Welcome Back. And if you were craving more of the tough, deep house tunes, Sunday Morning does come correct there. A bonus CD also includes more instrumental pieces exploring the fringes of future-funk, Dimensions almost coming off like a long-lost Amon Tobin cut with its liberal use of the Amen Break. Ah, that’s why Ninja Tune tapped him!

Tricky - Maxinquaye

Island Records: 1995

Tricky was my first exposure to trip-hop, via Deep Forest of all groups. The world beat duo provided music for the 1995 cyberpunk thriller Strange Days, and Teenage Sykonee being the throes of ethno-pop at the time, eagerly checked the movie out. Cannot deny I was also quite intrigued by the Kathryn Bigelow film on its concept, a look into the near future of the year 2000, and what the End Of The Millennium might hold.

It seems so quaint now, the fear that things would somehow catastrophically and abruptly end just after 11:59pm of December 31, 1999, and I’m not just talking that silly Y2K Bug thing. Nay, Strange Days depicted a society where, with the right kind of angle, seemed on the verge of utter collapse, a powder keg of racial strife and decadent decay, easily lit with but a single, reckless act of senseless, bigoted brutality. I have to admit Ms. Bigelow teased such an eruption so expertly throughout the movie, I actually believed the prophetic Millennial Apocalypse was nigh at the movie’s climax. Yet, clearer heads prevailed, the ‘eruption’ but a ‘scritch’ overall. Ms. Bigelow was smart, knowing Y2K paranoia was much ado about nothing. No, the real problems wouldn’t start until 16 years after! (Sorry, but it’s difficult not getting topical and political right now)

Tricky’s debut Maxinquaye is hailed as one of the shining moments of trip-hop’s mid-‘90s peak, in large part because it’s barely a trip-hop album at all. True, he helped Massive Attack set the template of the genre, and there’s definitely some all-time classic trip-hop class on here. Overcome, the opening track - and tune featured in the Strange Days soundtrack (relevancy!) – works a sultry, dubby, tribal thump, losing itself in the grit of inner city lust and doubt. Aftermath, his debut single, was initially intended for Massive Attack, but the lads behind Attack said ‘nay’ to that one, a shame because it would have fit marvelously into their canon.

That rejection, plus feeling generally stagnant within the group, prompted Tricky to pursue his solo ventures. He had plenty of ideas in his head, but not much production capability on his own though. Enter producer Mark Saunders, who somehow stitched together Tricky’s wayward muse into comprehensible music. Soul, punk, hip-hop, dub, and all manner of sample-heavy abstraction fill Maxinquaye, leaving you unsure where it’s going at any given time. The vocal dynamic between Tricky’s subdued conscious raps and cooing of singer/life partner Martina Topley-Bird fuels the sense of life on the skids, a scattershot collage of hopes and paranoia, lust and despair.

I probably can’t prop this album up any more than the UK press did at the time (holy cow, the hyperbole!), but as one of the seminal trip-hop albums of the era, this “not trip-hop” record definitely earned its spot among the Blue Lines and Dummys. It’s confrontational compared to the others, but that makes it all the more intriguing as a whole, as you decrypt the angst within.

Massive Attack - Blue Lines

Virgin: 1991/2012

So Blue Lines, the album that kicked off Tricky’s career. Yeah, sorry for the lame intro, but all the good ones were used in the past two decades. The “Few Records Deserve The ‘Seminal’ Tag, But This One Truly Does” angle; the “Once In A Blue Moon, A New Genre Is Born” take; the “Would Bristol Be Such A Prominent ‘90s Music Hub Without Blue Lines?” thinkpiece; a “If You Listen To Five Man Army Carefully, You Can Hear Subliminal Banksy Messages!” waffle. But man, that Tricky guy, where would he be without Massive Attack? Like, I’m sure he’d have gotten an album or two under his belt regardless, but his work with this group certainly gave him a boost.

Okay, enough malarkey on my part. Let’s talk about this most important record in trip-hop history, despite it barely having any trip-hop in it at all. There’s definitely early aspects of the genre lurking throughout – tracks like Five Man Army, Daydreaming, and One Love feature that slow, hazy mood the genre built its reputation on. This is more a product of Massive Attack incorporating several urban influences into their sound though, which included reggae dub popularized by many a Jamaican expat residing in London. And while Bristol’s music scene was generally their own thing, the dudes behind Massive Attack were more than familiar with what was what in the elsewheres of their country. All that time as part of The Wild Bunch sound system crew provided plenty exposure to various musical movements, leading to the varied genre blending heard throughout Blue Lines. Not just the spliff-heavy hip-hop, but R&B, reggae, funk, and soul find their way inside this tidy nine-tracker of a record, often within the same song. It’s easy to hear why music journalists were creaming their pants over this album, thrilled at hearing so many classy forms of music expertly fused into a groovy whole.

And yet I wonder, was this really that big a deal back in the early ‘90s? Seems every second British album from across the spectrum was doing something radically different in genre fusion. I’ll grant adding dub production to hip-hop beats was unique compared to what America was doing, but this wasn’t exclusive to trip-hop in the slightest: ambient, house, techno, R&B (rock?), all got in on that action too. More often than not, Massive Attack stick to conventional music, sparingly pushing the boundaries into uncharted territory. Be Thankful For What You’ve Got is the sort of UK soul peddled for a few years then. Unfinished Sympathy, the breakout single of the album, has New Jack Swing going for it, though obviously drenched in gospel charm.

Still, if those are about the only nitpicks I can fault Blue Lines for, then this album’s reputation is more than deserved. Considering many ‘dance’ albums from this era are way dated, this one easily stands the test of time, its multitude of influences making it a timeless piece of music.