Ruptured World - Xenoplanetary

Cryo Chamber: 2023

Just when you think you've heard it all when it comes to 'cinematic dark ambient', Cryo Chamber goes and throws yet another new angle into the mix. Or it's a style that's existed in some form or another, and this is just my first exposure to it. Come to think of it, even if not via dark ambient outlets, much of what I'm hearing on Ruptured World's Xenoplantary has existed in other mediums, but typically drawn out over the course of several hours, spaced between various forms of busy-work. I am, of course, talking about the spoken word genre known as the video game Datalog.

You scoff, but think about it: for as long as puzzle PC games have had the capability to provide audio clips of individuals gabbing on about daily activities or pet projects or failed experiments, we've heard some form of datalog. Sometimes they're implemented as clues to solving mysteries, other times they're sprinkled about as setting dressing. More commonly these days, they're used as narrative cheats in world building, where the quality of voice acting can range from transcendentally gripping to instructional video hilarity. Whatever your preference of such content, one thing is clear: there really isn't an after-market for datalog recordings.

Not that I imagine a huge demand for it, but you'd think with video game soundtracks so readily available, someone had an entrepreneurial flash in thinking all that voice work could earn a little extra scratch outside its gaming context. The closest we get, it seems, is just collected records of all the datalogs one discovers through the course of a play run, and typically only accessible in-game. I'm sure unofficial compilations float about YouTube and the like, but wouldn't it be neat to have all that material available on a nice set of wax? Or, even better: tapes! Really sell that authentic datalog feel, y'know? Okay, probably not, but that hasn't stopped Alistair Rennie from giving it the ol' college try with his Ruptured World project.

Whereas many artists may offer an introductory monologue or epilogue to a given work, Mr. Rennie makes his dialogue an integral part of his album narrative. I wouldn't go so far as to say they're full-on datalog outing, each recording interspersed with ambient music and cinematic drone. Yet nor are they audio books, as he'll garble the voice recordings with all manner of digital distortions, as though you're replaying them from some recovered, weathered archive of an explorer detailing their experiences – a datalog! What I'm sayin' is, ain't no way Scott Brick or Davina Porter would allow that in their works.

And what does Xenoplanetary offer within the Ruptured World milieu? A little survivor horror, a little sci-fi horror, a little body horror... typical dark ambient stuff. The music itself honestly isn't that terrifying, and sometimes Alistair's narration lends itself to wonderment rather than fear of his predicament. Of course, this being a Cryo Chamber outing, things can only end with an ironic existential crisis...

Harold Budd - By The Dawn's Early Light

Opal Records/All Saints: 1991/2018

Harold Budd was responsible for some of ambient music's seminal albums of the '80s, but as that decade drew to a close, one could sense creative stagnation creeping in. The White Arcades was a lovely record of minimalist piano and synth tones, but territory well covered by that point. Budd felt it too, so when the '90s took form, he started embarking on roads distancing himself from the sounds folks were pigeon-holing him into.

The first of these 'experiments' was By The Dawn's Early Light, wherein he assembled four other musicians to Daniel Lanois' New Orleans studio-house. These included viola player Mabel Wong, harpist Susan Allen, guitarist Bill Nelson, and steel guitarist BJ Cole. Ah, sweet, the ol' slide guitar making a comeback into Harold's music, bringing back shades of Afar from The Serpent (In Quicksilver). Oh, more than you know.

The concept for this album was something of a challenge for Budd, in that he was inspired by the assorted half-finished poetry lines he'd written over the years. He wanted to build music around these, invoking feelings the imagery the words conjured, mostly of youthful Americana dreams in dusty California outbacks. Would he use these to create lyrical songs though? And would he have his assorted musicians clinically recreate music he'd write for them, or let the improvisational nature of his jazz background be a guiding force? Well, this is a Budd joint, so obviously the latter. Besides, he'd chosen these particular musicians for their ability to improvise. Simply give them an outline of what he wanted from each instrument with each piece, and let the creativity go from there, their simpatico vibes and chamber music ambience of Lanois' studio-house leading the way.

The poetry portions bookend the album, with an 'interlude' midway, which work wonders in selling the idea of this being more a narrative art piece than just simple music. Boy About 10 starts, with those distinct Budd piano strokes and soft acoustic guitar, then the viola solo starts and... and... oh. Oh my...

So... Harold Budd passed away from COVID complications this past winter, which I honestly didn't know until coming to this album for review. He was 84, so not that much of a surprise he might pass from any variety of ailments. Still, with that knowledge, then hearing this melancholy viola solo, meant to invoke remembrances of Harold as a boy dreaming about a wide world before him... I cannot deny my throat chokes up with such sadness, yet a love for a man's work I've only had a general fondness for.

I really don't know what else to say here. The rest of By Dawn's Early Light gives each musician a chance to perform in a subdued manner, pieces never lasting longer than they need to. There are nice moments about, others more like half-formed sonic sketches. Nothing quite hits me with the same emotional wallop Boy About 10 does though. I don't know if any of Budd's music ever will.

Space Dimension Controller - Welcome To Mikrosector-50

R & S Records: 2013

While this album technically isn't Jack Hamill's debut as Space Dimension Controller, it sure feels so. His actual debut LP was a digital-only item released four years prior on Acroplane Recordings, Unidentified Flying Oscillator. I don't recall much buzz surrounding it though, most folks instead intrigued by a debut single released that same year, The Love Quadrant. R & S Records especially liked the cut of that record's space-funk jib, so ol' Jack hooked them up with a few lengthy EPs, earning him critical plaudits with Very Important music journals in the process. Naturally an album was expected following that buzz, but Welcome To Mikrosector-50 wasn't like anything folks anticipated. For Mr. Hamill sought nothing less than to take the Space Dimension Controller concept into the realm of a fully-fleshed narrative, concrete plot and all. Oh my, who even does that in techno anymore?

The year is 2357 A.D., helpfully parlayed by the opening chill track 2357 A.D. Jack Hamill moonlights throughout this story as Mr. 8040, introduced in the following track of Mr. 8040's Introduction, a proper throwback electro-funk jam complete with hippity-hop rapping. Then there's a brief ad-skit shilling for the marvellous Mikrosector-50 habitat, followed by the free-wheeling space-funk jam (you're gonna' read 'funk jam' a lot in this review) of To Mikrosector-50, with a little more info dropped by Mr. 8040 regarding who is and what he do. Following that, there's another brief skit, where our hero consults a computer regarding the whereabouts of his lover/wife/beneficial-friend. It's about here that you realize you're not dealing with a regular ol' clutch of tracks, but an unfolding story with music acting more as a soundtrack to Mr. 8040's journey to find the love he lost.

His trip takes him through various sections of the Mikrosector. A chill guitar-funk jam of Your Love Feels Like It's Fading. A rather synthwavey tune of Lonely Flight To Erodu-10. A failed club pick-up in the house-funk jam of Can't Have My Love (with heavenly vocals from 'Kat Kirk'). A seedy excursion into an underground acid-techno [funk] jam of Rising (Detroit called, it wants its retro-future back). A shameless hooker score in Quadraskank Interlude (about as down and funky low as you'd expect). And even a narrative excuse to return to the first SDC tune in Love Quadrant.

Yet it's all for naught, his search proving fruitless. Having exhausted any hopes of finding peace in this future, Mr. 8040 leaves to the bouncy Detroit techno of Back Through Time With A Mission Of Groove. It's a tidy wrap-up to the album's tale, save a cheeky stinger hinting that perhaps there may be more in store for the Space Dimension Controller in all our futures.

If you're the sort who wants new tunes with nothing attached, the various skits throughout Welcome To Mikrosector-50 will likely frustrate. Me though, I'm all about that album narrative score. If anything, I'd love to see this translated into movie format. Or at least a graphic novel a la Perturbator.

Stuart McLean - A Story-Gram From Vinyl Cafe Inc.

Vinyl Cafe Productions: 2004

As Canadian cultural icons go, I can’t say Stuart McLean is well known outside our borders. Obviously quite a few athletes, actors, and musicians has more fame, but even among comedians or media personalities I can run off a fair number before folks abroad draw blanks: Don Cherry, Red Green, Rick Mercer, George Stroumboulopoulos, Ed The Sock, Ron MacLean (no relation), Peter Mansbridge (okay, pushing it) …um, that Jian guy that doesn’t deserve any spotlight these days.

Nay, Stuart McLean probably ranks around Royal Canadian Air Farce as far as cultural impact goes, a steadying presence one could count on should they happen across his popular radio broadcast The Vinyl Café. And despite his death this year, he’ll likely live on with rebroadcasts, the show one of CBC’s most endearing. His skill as a storyteller was such that he could take the mundane minutiae of suburban life and have you captivated in the twists and turns each tale took. Seldom anything so zany as to be unbelievable, just simple events that anyone could find relatable (oh God, as I’m typing these words, I’m hearing it in Mr. McLean’s cadence).

The Vinyl Café revolved around a couple named Dave and Morely, and their two children Stephanie and Sam. Dave ran a record shop from which the series based its name on, though for the longest time, I kept imagining a coffee house filled with walls, stools, couches, and even specialized mugs covered in vinyl. I can’t imagine that being too appealing to those with allergic reactions to the material. When I clued in that wasn’t the case, I then thought McLean was reading these stories to an audience within a place called The Vinyl Café, because I didn’t tune in enough to think otherwise. Yeah, can’t say I was a studious follower of McLean’s work, but didn’t mind staying on the channel for a while should I hear his voice on the airwaves.

As the series was successful by Canadian broadcast standards, it naturally spun off books and CDs. A Story-Gram From Vinyl Café Inc. was the fifth double-album released under the banner (not including a Christmas album, because of course there would be one), gathering up a half-dozen selections from McLean’s storytelling tours. Yes, two discs worth, as each story typically runs around the twenty minute mark each. They can come off long-winded in the beginning, yet succinct by tale’s end.

And as for the stories included? Oh, the usual sort of things a suburban family may go through. A miscommunication over Dave perhaps dying (featuring lots of gifted lasagna). Morely joining a book club that’s ridiculously pretentious. A sapling growing in the gathered dirt of Dave’s old car. How Dave dealt with the labor of their first child. Dave’s feeble attempts to erase an accidental, disparaging message left on a neighbor’s tape machine, which includes hijinks with an oversized magnet that would have Wile E. Coyote thinking this is a little over the top. You know, everyday Canadian stuff.

Jam & Spoon - Tripomatic Fairytales 2001 (2016 Update)

Dance Pool/Epic: 1993/1994

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

And this CD. One of the earliest attempts at bridging the trance-pop gap. Also a bizarre blend of hypnotic German techno and sun-kissed beatnik Balearic vibes. Not to mention among the first trance albums I purchased for myself, though Dance 2 Trance’s Moon Spirits beat it to my primeval collection by at least a year. Still, I thought I was buying a euro-dance CD with the DJ Dag project, whereas I’d just started my trance indoctrination with Tripomatic Fairytales 2001, willing to take a risk on an LP full of unfamiliar tunes - Follow Me and their Age Of Love remix was about all I knew from them. And hoo, was it an ear-opener, going in weird, unexpected places that even folks already familiar with big singles Right In The Night and Stella were wondering just what the duo were smokin’ in their studio.

Clearly I was too young to know much about the European club scene Jam & Spoon were a part of, and there’s scant reports of initial impression from punters purchasing Tripomatic Fairytales 2001 hot off the shelves. I can guess they were expecting more of the recognizable hits, so how did folks react to the electro-tribal thump of Heart Of Africa as an opener? It took me by surprise only because I wasn’t well versed in much of anything these guys had done yet. Was this track a crazy double-take for those familiar with even their early, charmingly titled techno B-side My First Fantastic F.F.?

Interludes. Skits. How many dance albums did this way back when? Some brief instrumental pieces or drum loops, sure, but spoken word peices like Muffled Drums and Who Opened The Door To Nowhere were a rarity, especially for a supposed trance (or pop) record. Nor did Misters Mar and Spoon skimp on throwing whatever struck their muses into the pot. Ultra long builders like Odyssey To Anyoona and Path Of Harmony, standard (for the time) trance numbers in Nuerotrance Adventure and Paradise Garage, or indulging some ethnic sounds with Zen Flash Zen Bones and Earth Spirit.

Hey, I mentioned way back when that there were many different version of Tripomatic Fairytales 2001 - let’s delve into those! The original-original version had an additional interlude called Operation Spaceship Earth, mostly of orbiting sounds and giggling children. Yeah, I can hear why this was jettisoned for Find Me in the re-issues. A couple years after though, they jettisoned Zen Flash Zen Bones to add another new single with Plavka, euro-cheeseball Ibizan tune Angel (Ladadi O-Heyo). This was not such a good move, and was removed for the 2010 re-issue, along with Find Me. Operation Spaceship Earth was reinstated though, and brought along a bunch of vintage bonus remixes and the epic Follow Me. Huh, you could have gotten that track on a 1993 limited edition version vinyl release, along with The Tribe and all the Tripomatic tracks arranged in a different order. Bet that one fetches a handsome fee on the open market.

Jerry Goldsmith - Star Trek: The Motion Picture (20th Anniversary Edition)

Columbia/Sony Legacy: 1979/1998

Still not the geekiest thing in my music collection, though I can't deny it being somewhere in the Top Ten. If I had any of the Star Wars soundtracks, it'd certainly be geekier than that, though not as geeky were the original Battlestar Galactica among my CDs. I guess it's proper-nerdy to claim I've got any Star Trek soundtracks and not Star Wars, but here's the thing: I'll never have to purchase a Star Wars soundtrack. Those compositions are so ubiquitous in geekdom, there's no effort in hearing John Williams' music. Hell, there's a disco medley of Star Wars that occasionally pops up on my work radio – ain't no way you'd hear the same for Star Trek.

In any case, it doesn't matter whether having Star Trek: The Motion Picture is geeky or not, because connoisseurs of sci-fi soundtracks agree Jerry Goldsmith's score is among the best out there. When you think Star Trek, you almost inevitably think of that main theme, a triumphant piece of music, ready to explore the cosmos in the name of adventure and discovery. Of course, it helps they reused the theme for The Next Generation, all but assuring its permanent place in pop culture, but The Motion Picture was its debut, and likely the only thing most folks recall of the movie. That, and the fact it was a slog of special effects over-indulgence. But hey, it’s one of the only Trek movies to go super-hard sci-fi, and I kinda’ appreciate for that, even if I only ever watch it on the laziest of rainy afternoons.

Before I got this soundtrack though, another reason I would throw the movie on was to bask in the wonderfully alien sounds of Craig Huxley’s Blaster Beam, an eighteen-foot long monstrosity of piano strings, aluminum, magnets, and artillery shell (yes, really). Huxley was already making incidental sounds and clips for Trek related media, but when he showed the instrument off to Goldsmith, the composer instantly knew he had his signature sound for the movie's antagonist. And a good thing too, the Blaster Beam injecting a remarkable amount of omnipresent menace and character to nothing more than a lot of special effects and a Voyager probe prop.

Some feel Goldsmith's score was wasted on The Motion Picture, but it's honestly one of the few shining positives of the movie. All those scenes of flying through space, flying through space clouds, flying over impossibly giant probes, and an inconsequential love story would have fallen flatter than Saturn’s rings without the music. Goldsmith captured the mystery and awe of exploration and the unknown as best as anyone could for a hard sci-fi movie, and is worth a listen on those merits.

Thrown in this 20th anniversary collector’s edition is the old Inside Star Trek record, where Gene Roddenberry conducts interviews with cast members and gives lectures. It’s pure Trekkie fluff, with a curious take away: Mr. Roddenberry’s fascination with sex in sci-fi. Ah, so those mini-skirts weren’t standard issue after all.

Various - Pulp Fiction

MCA Records: 1994

Shame I didn't get to this CD a little sooner – say, last yearish. I could’ve generated cheap traffic by piggy-backing off clickbait articles like “Hey, It’s The 20th Anniversary Of That Movie You Can’t Stop Quoting!” But alas, we're already two weeks deep into 2015, long past the expiry date of people nostalgically revisiting Pulp Fiction's 1994 release. Who cares that it came out mid-November of that year, thus making us but two months late for twentieth-anniversary prestige. Hell, as I recall, Tarantino's opus to the mush of storytelling didn't catch popular buzz until well into '95, finding more fanfare on the home video market where all us impressionable underage Gen-X types could finally watch it. And hoo, what a movie to behold, making not a lick of sense but strangely captivating as Hollywood stars waxed bullshit over obscene circumstances.

Plus the music! Wow, where did ol' Quentin find all that awesome music? His personal record collection apparently, turning many of his flicks into as much a mixtape as they are ‘70s genre-sploitations. Of course, with over two decades to study his methods, having rare, odd, and perfect tunes’ become the expectant norm, and unfortunately nothing’s made quite the impact that the surf rock of Misirlou did. Still, Tarantino made a style of music that had been absolutely dead for three decades hip again. That’s quite an achievement, and though it didn’t resurrect into a reinvigorated scene, it did create a new generation of crate divers digging a little further into obscure musical cul-de-sacs. Erm, not me though – I still had ‘techno’.

So the surf rock is primarily what Pulp Fiction’s music is remembered for, and for good reason. Beyond the killer opener, at least a third of the music on this soundtrack is in that style. Another significant chunk is taken up by dark, bluesy country, though not always specifically from that scene. Heavy rockers Urge Overkill do a cover of Neil Diamond’s Girl, You’ll Soon Be A Woman, and then-newcomer Maria McKee goes full-on whisky folk, but every track has that ‘outlaw’ feeling that Tarantino loves writing into protagonists. Not so much always the ‘bad guys’, as he’s featured his fair share of vigilantes too. More like desperados, and can you think of any sub-sub American culture that was filled with those sorts than the outlaws of the country? Sure, the surfer nation! Nothing caught that vintage American West desperado spirit like freeloaders taking on the mighty waves of the Pacific Ocean, risking life and limb to prove Man was undefeatable in the face of his Mother Nature’s fury. Well, the music suggested as such.

Look, I’m just waxing bullshit here for the sake of my own ego (like a Tarantino movie!). Even if you haven’t seen Pulp Fiction (!), you’ve probably seen a parody or two, and know its music and culled bits of dialog from those. You don’t need me telling you to check this out, because you already have, even if only by cultural osmosis.