Kon Kan - Syntonic

Atlantic: 1990

I’ve been severely neglecting my Canadian content this past month. Better get to it before our new Liberal overlords send me a fair-weather warning of forced patriotism. Wait, do they even care about backwater bloggers? How could they even enforce such a thing? Would they suddenly turn my review of Hot Chip’s DJ-Kicks into something by Arcade Fire? No, they could never be so nefarious. The blues, maybe, but not our boys in red (note: I voted orange). As luck would have it though, I get to meet my monthly Canadian content quota by reviewing an album by a synth-pop act whose name is a play on that quirky bit of legislation, Kon Kan. See, it’s Canadian content, backwards! Eh? Eh? Pah, witty Canuckian humor is lost on all y’alls.

I always remember seeing the name Kon Kan around, though not in any significant way. I mean, they were a Canadian synth-pop act, making dance music at a time when dance music was gaining a fair bit of popularity in the early ‘90s. They’d almost be obligated the occasional guest spot on whatever hip club music show was airing on MuchMusic at the time (X-Tendamix? Might Master T have interviewed Kon Kan at one point? Ooh, you know that’d be some retro YouTubing there). By the time I’d finally immersed myself in ‘techno’ though, they’d already folded as a group. Well, ‘group’ is a stretch of a word, Kon Kan primarily the creation of one Barry Harris. He’d update his sound for the euro dance crowds in the group Outta Control, all the while making underground house records solo and harder stuff with career remixer Chris Cox as Thunderpuss. Mr. Harris has stayed active to this day, and even suggested dusting off the old Kon Kan name with original vocalist Kevin Wynne. Because nothing old stays old, right?

Point being, there’s a lot of history to this name, and is hardly a one-and-done deal despite Kon Kan never getting bigger than their debut, Juno Award winning single I Beg Your Pardon. I sure didn’t know all this when I picked Syntonic out of a used shop. I just recognized the name from a house compilation, and took a chance after a quick listen of the first few tracks. Honestly though, I’m still wondering how that initial impression convinced me to buy this sophomore effort. Yeah, Victorious is undeniably catchy in that New Jack Swing sort of way, but dear Lord so much else on here sounds way dated.

Obviously I can’t expect blinding sonics from a 1990 Canaidan synth-pop album, even one backed by Atlantic Records, but a few tracks do work on those terms. Lead single Liberty! is just as peppy as anything from the Pet Shop Boys, Can’t Stop The Fire gets more to Harris’ house side, andTime is good cheesy italo fun, even if the chorus apes Trooper’s We’re Here For A Good Time. Overall though, Syntonic is just another long forgotten collection of dated dance pop.

Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

RCA: 1983/2005

While Eurythmics had an album out prior to this one, Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) may as well be the duo's debut regardless. In The Garden didn't generate much interest, most folks unsure whether these two transplants from The Tourists were worth keeping tabs on. Even when Lennox and Stewart changed course to the synth-heavy sound we commonly associate with early Eurythmics, the turnaround discourse wasn't immediate. The first couple singles, This Is the House and The Walk, passed by with barely any notice, and third EP Love Is A Stranger made the barest of impressions on the scene. You have to wonder if, at that point, the Eurythmics story was on the brink. Might have Lennox and Stewart called it quits if the next single for their sophomore album failed as well; perhaps receding into avante-garde endeavours, or maybe reforming The Tourists for another kick at the new wave can. Heck, they might have even split themselves, frustrated that their creative synergy kept falling on deaf ears! Fortunately for them, that single was Sweet Dreams, and it changed everything for Eurythmics.

There’s nothing I can add to the choir praising this track that you haven’t read or discovered for yourself. Do you know much about the accompanying album though? Maybe you do, if you were there at the beginning, rushing the shops to hear more of this strange detached new wave synth-pop as performed by a group taking Bowie’s androgynous style to new levels. However, I wager most only know it as ‘that album with the two great songs on it’, and skip it for a greatest hits package instead. It’s not like This Is The House and The Walk got folks talking – maybe too much brass in The Walk.

The rest of Sweet Dreams: The Album mostly find Lennox and Stewart doing the post-wave new synth-fusion soul pop thing they’re most commonly known for, though in a much stripped manner. As they had yet to blow up big, Stewart’s studio was still rather basic, making use of a mere eight-track console while recording. A lesser group would likely have crumbled under such limitations, but with clever song writing and Lennox’s powerful pipes bringing tons of soul to such a synthesized sound, the result was one of the more unique albums of the early ‘80s. They even got a little experimental, what with ethereal Jennifer and dubby This City Never Sleeps.

As with all re-issues, we get a few B-sides from that era, some of which are shocking. Take Monkey, Monkey from the Love Is A Stranger single: is that proto-techno I hear? It’s funky, instrumental, super electronic, and how has no one ever talked about it being from 1982? Or how about the proto-EBM Baby’s Gone Blue from the Sweet Dreams single? There’s also a Moroder remix of Sweet Dreams (!), and an early Coldcut remix of Love Is A Stranger (!!). Damn, forget the big hits, these are worth picking up this CD alone.

ACE TRACKS: November 2015

Well, that was a fun little trip through music seldom covered here. It was fun, wasn’t it? Well, whatever the case, you are rest assured I won’t be doing something like that again, at least as my music collection currently stands. Oh, there will definitely still be the odd quirky, week-long venture into the unexpected, but nothing that entails so much country and rock ‘best of’ CDs. Who even buys such things anymore? It’s all about the online stream, mass torrent dump, or collector’s box sets these days. Anyhow, since I’ve done a technical alphabetical backtrack in my reviewing queue, I’ll be going through another little string of releases before resuming my endless sojourn through ‘S’. Nothing much, just a few DJ-Kicks mixes I picked up on the cheap. The rest of my backlog will have to wait for after revisiting System 7’s debut, which should come around before the year’s out. I hope.

Until then, here’s the ACE TRACKS I’ve enjoyed this past November.



Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
David Bickley - Still Rivers At Night
Purl - Stillpoint
Jesper Dahlbäck - Stockholm Mix Sessions & 2

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock (and country): 23%
Most “WTF?” Track: Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show - Freakin’ At The Freaker’s Ball (should be an anthem at every fet-life event)

Reviewing so much different non-electronic music probably doesn’t do any favors for a blog called Electronic Music Critic. On the other hand, it does make putting these playlists together more fun, finding out what unexpected music makes for remarkable bedfellows. Why obviously moody drone ambient must follow (Don’t Fear) The Reaper!

A shame some of the more obscure ambient didn’t make the Spotify cut, but there’s a decent enough assortment of tunes throughout this to keep one engaged, plus a big ol' chunk of ambient at the end. You can’t beat a combination of Faithless, M.I.K.E., Sub Focus, and Loverboy for your instant earworm love. And hey, a little dub techno thrown in don’t hurt either, eh?

Peter Gabriel - So

Geffen Records: 1986

The only Peter Gabriel album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Peter Gabriel fan. Unless, that is, you were already a Peter Gabriel fan, enjoying his work with the O.G. Genesis line-up and his following art-rock solo work. Then So is probably seen as a wack, commercial sell-out of an album, courting easy money with huge hits like Sledgehammer and In Your Eyes. Hell, he even gave this record a proper title after his first four were eponymous. That reeks of corporate interference, and it t’was, his label insisting a title so they could market it easier. Man, did they ever, So a mandatory inclusion in any generic advertising shot of CD collections. It worked though, convincing me to 'splurge' on So after spotting it in a supermarket bargain bin. Anything from the '80s with that much public prominence must have some merit to it beyond the recognizable hits, right?

Sure, although this album feels so ‘80s, it almost hurts. Part of that is strictly the production standard of the time, what with the copious reverb and hall effects the decade adored, so if you can’t stand that sound, walk on by. Granted, Mr. Gabriel was partly responsible for it becoming popular in the first place, among the first employing that distinct flat, echoing drum kick everyone associates with Regean Era rock. It also doesn’t hurt having Daniel Lanois as a co-producer either, most famous for lending his talents to U2’s most endearing work. He, too, has an inescapable ‘80s aesthetic, but his widescreen style definitely suits the ambitious, ultra-dense song-writing of Gabriel, so it’s a good pairing in this case.

You know what else was big in the ‘80s? Issues, man. Globalization was rearing its head, and people in prominent positions were all on that raising awareness shtick, Gabriel no less so than any of his musical peers. Opener Red Rain drops plenty of issues afflicting the world, the title alone a not-so subtle metaphor for the blood spilled for unjust causes. Meanwhile, gentle ballad Don’t Give Up narrows the focus closer to Gabriel’s country dealing with Thatcherism. And despite the upbeat funk of the song suggesting otherwise, Big Time is a condemnation of ‘80s consumerism. An unaware Patrick Bateman would approve if he wasn’t already a fan of Collins-era Genesis.

Finally, with world issues the hot topic of social conscience ‘80s folk, it also brought in more awareness of ethnic music. Gabriel was already a fan of such fusions, but with some pop sensibilities, he helped bring worldy sounds to Western radios in Sledgehammer (Eastern woodwinds!), Red Rain (Africa!), and Mercy Street (Brazilian forró!).

That didn’t stop him from getting his art-rock on at the end of So though. We Do What We’re Told has a meditative, rhythmic drone going for it, while This Is The Picture gets beat-jammy with Nile Rodgers and... wait, that bass tone. Could it be...? *checks credits* Laswell. Again with the Laswell. What is he, the Kevin Bacon of bass?

ACE TRACKS: July 2015

So Neil Young’s pulled his music from online streaming services. At least, until he feels the audio quality meets the high demand standards he deems worthy of his music. Aww, c’mon, mang, I pay for Spotify Premium, I gets the best possible quality from them. Why you gonna’ deny me the music in your discography that I really don’t have much interest in buying? Now I’ll never hear Landing On Water or Fork In The Road. And what of those who look forward to your songs in these monthly Playlists? No, no, I can sense all of your disappointment, Mr. Young’s music now as out of digital reach as Beatles albums. Dark times indeed, but here’s the ACE TRACKS of July 2015 regardless.


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Sequential - Sequential
Tobias. - A Series Of Shocks
The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Chris Duckenfield - Sheffield Mix Sessions
Aldrin - Singapore Tribal
Dogon - The Sirius Expeditions
Various - Slumberland

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 5%
Percentage Of Rock: 16%
Most “WTF?” Track: Any of the Eminem raps will turn your head if you’re a prude.

Review-wise, this was my most productive July yet. Not sure where I got the extra motivation to plow through it all – maybe those two weeks off in June did me more good than expected. Or perhaps I was simply anxious to hear all these disparate albums, compilations, and mixes, some of which were quite new to my ears (oh hi one-hit wonder grunge bands!). Others were CDs I’d long had thoughts about and were eager to share. This did leave for a rather eclectic collection of tunes though, so I went with another alphabetical arrangement, sans the inclusion of Depeche Mode’s CD1 Singles and Paul van Dyk’s CD2 Seven Ways at the end.

Incidentally, Spotify has sorted out their Local Files issue, so a complete tracklist including all the missing album songs is available, bringing the total runtime of this playlist a whopping 8.5 hours. Drawback of cranking out consistent reviews, I guess: all those ACE TRACK selections. Maybe I ought to start reviewing crummier albums?

Kiko - Slave Of My Mind (Original TC Review)

Play It Again Sam [PIAS]: 2008

(2015 Update:
I keep thinking Slave Of My Mind will wear off on me, the attributes I found charming back in 2008 finally sounding campy or derivative. I keep thinking the only reason I gave it such praise was for its lack of things I disliked back then - the electro-fart nonsense, the minimal plonk-wank, the stoopid-club fodder. It never happens though, the thin line between tasteful and wack continuously toed with finesse. This is a fun album for a mild bit of brooding dance music, and is a shame Kiko never followed up on it.

Not that he hasn't been busy though, still cranking out singles by the cart load. Taking in a few of his more recent ones, it seems Kiko's gone the way of house music again. Tech-house, deep house, a little techno on the side - all the usual sounds you'll find in typical underground clubs I guess. Aww, why you no darkwave no more, Keekee? It's bound for another resurgence in the near future if nu-new retrowave movements have any momentum going for them.)


IN BRIEF: A misstep, or misunderstood?

Christophe Dallaca, or Kiko as he’s more commonly known in the clubbing community, had a promising leap into recognition during the first half of this decade. A part of the French techno connection that was injecting elements of italo and New Beat into their music, he was amongst the early adopters of electroclash, and even survived the backlash with subsequent acid hits such as Jack In The Box. Yet, while compatriots such as The Hacker and Vitalic have maintained a respectable profile as the years went on, Kiko seems to have faded off.

Do I have an answer for such occurring? It could lie within his second album, Slave Of My Mind. It would seem, as with so many others this past year, the Frenchman’s been influenced by the German aesthetic. Not to say Kiko didn’t have an inclining for moody minimalism in the past but not to the degree we have on this album. Gone is the italo, and even his native country’s influence is mostly absent; as such, so is much of what made Kiko… well, Kiko.

And unfortunately for Monsieur Dallaca, he isn’t adding anything to the German sound that hasn’t been touched upon for the last couple years. When everyone from Dutch trance producers to UK prog jocks to nearly every house producer under the sun are taking a stab at it, Kiko would have had to do something utterly revolutionary to stand out from the glut. Sadly, Slave Of My Mind doesn’t have anything close to that, and as a result we are left with a collection of tracks that are nicely produced but difficult to distinguish from the pack. Thus, Kiko fades from public consciousness.

That said, Slave Of My Mind does venture into territory few seem willing to frequent: darkwave… of a sort. The titular track and World End Rock Up reach into the gloom that made up much of the industrial-goth sound that’s been quite popular in German circles, all the while using melodramatic-yet-slight synth strings to sell the vocal angst. Wrap it up in techno beats, and you have a pair of tracks that’ll probably come across a bit too ‘hands-up’ for serious crowds, yet too dismal for general audiences. This easily makes Slave Of My Mind and World End Rock Up the best tracks on Kiko’s album, as they aren’t blatantly pandering to any group in particular, and are infectious dance numbers to boot.

Aside from additional vocal number So Time, which is a relatively average stab at injecting angst into a typical electro-house tune, the rest of the tracks don’t venture far off the murk-techno path. And although this is nothing any connoisseur of techno wouldn’t have heard before, Kiko still manages to craft hooks that are quite infectious despite being comparatively subtle; it’s difficult writing off stuff like PH-1 and Sunburn when they so easily get lodged in your head. He even takes a competent stab at that ambiguously named sub-genre neo-trance, throwing spritely glitch-melodies in Preludia and Alone In The Dark; it’s what Sander van Doorn’s album could have sounded like if the Dutchman had made a point in his tracks rather than dickering around with go-nowhere ultra-effects builds.

What Slave Of My Mind could have done without, however, are the three ambient doodles thrown about the album. They aren’t altogether awful, mind, just rather pointless; I’d have preferred seeing one of the b-sides to the singles show up instead (Maximale would have made for a killer contribution!).

I’m sure there are a number of folks out there that would disagree with my assessment of Kiko’s latest; after all, he’s no longer the Kiko most enjoyed years back, nor will he win much favor with the ‘I are serious techno serious fan’ groups. Damn it though, this is my review and despite the rough edges, Slave Of My Mind is quite enjoyable. You won’t be blown away by it, but it’s still entertaining from start to finish, which is more than can be said for most albums on store shelves. Put this one in the front-running for the Unduly Neglected Albums Of 2008 category.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved.

Depeche Mode - The Singles 86>98

Mute: 1998

Depeche Mode, the band everyone loves when they want to get in touch with their darkside, and will get beaten to a bloody pulp by the South Park goth kids for it. Depeche Mode, the band that’s seen so much reinvention over the years, even their long standing fans have formed tribes based on which version is the one true Mode. A band that had a singles package released before their most recognized songs hit the radio waves, followed the year after with another ‘greatest hits’ album to accommodate those, and was still followed upon by some of their most famous songs. They soundtracked everything from foppish New Wave clubs to nebbish S&M dungeons to family friendly mall speakers. They’re the band you enjoy until their sound falls out of fashion, secretly admire while no one’s looking, then proclaim a long-standing devotion when it’s cool to do so again.

So yeah, Depeche Mode has had a career, one lengthy enough for retrospectives dividing their different eras. Obviously the mid-‘80s record The Singles 81 → 85 covered the early portions of their discography, but albums Black Celebration, Music For The Masses, and Violator came after. These LPs held the songs Stripped, Strangelove, Behind The Wheel, Enjoy The Silence, A Question Of Lust, A Question Of Time, A Question Of Your Personal Jesus… Basically every song we’ve come to associate with Depeche Mode (that reverb!), even those who contend Just Can’t Get Enough is their crowning achievement.

Naturally another greatest hits package had to capitalize on these singles. Like, shortly after the ‘90s took form, when their darkwave synth-pop sound could no longer stand toe-to-toe with trendier sounds like industrial rock and raving techno. Get a few extra dollars from their fans and- wait, Depeche Mode’s still going? What’s with this ‘adapting with the times’ strategy of theirs? It’ll never work, “never” claims the critics! Well, the band must have been doing something right, for they managed a whole second CD of singles from their ‘90s efforts.

Honestly, CD2 of The Singles 86>98 isn’t as memorable as CD1. The albums released during that period - Songs Of Faith And Devotion and Ultra - have their fans, and it’s remarkable the band navigated the ‘90s as capably as they did before ‘80s revivalism gave them another boost with 2001’s Exciter. Yet, hearing them go all distorted in I Feel You and Useless, or try trip-hop with Barrel Of A Gun, doesn’t quite mesh with how I, a passive fan, fancy the group. Leave the angst-ridden sonics to Nine Inch Nails, and give me more of that cinematic melodrama bombast in Little 15. Wait, why is that song on CD2?

I guess there’s no harm in slapping a second disc of material to an essential first, but was there no other way of summing up thirteen years of band’s career? CD1 has all the songs you know and love, CD2 has the fans-only material. So much cake that needs eating too.

ACE TRACKS: January 2014

Whoa, wait a minute here! How can there already by an ACE TRACKS playlist for January when we’re barely a week into the month? The answer, to the surprise of no one, is that this is the January playlist from last year. Ah, I remember that time so fondly, spending nearly two days straight of finally giving this blog actual sound clips and links via Amazon. Boy, if only I had a different audio service available to me at the time that would have made that process so much easier. If only…



Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Doc Scott - Lost In Drum N’ Bass
The Orb - Live 93
DJ Aaron Carter - Lit Up

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 26%
Percentage of Rock: 4%
Most “WTF?” Track: Archie Bleyer - Hernando’s Hideaway (get your tango on, mate)

This was quite an eclectic month, as far as musical genres are concerned. Beyond the highly recognizable electronic names like Leftfield, Ladytron, Infected Mushroom, and FSOL, there’s obscure acid techno, reggae, world music, and grimey UK bass. Also, live albums, so expect to hear more cheering crowds than a KLF record. Surprisingly, the end result isn’t as convoluted or forced as other 'kitchen sink' playlists I’ve done. I won’t deny a couple clunky transitions, though (sorry, Rae’).

The total runtime is about 10 hours here, but that’s because I gave three whole albums Ace Track status that month: Asura’s Life², Bob Marely’s Legend, and GZA’s Liquid Swords. Instead of clumsily worming these LPs’ individual tracks throughout, I’ve lumped each one at the very end of the playlist. It makes better sense having albums that are great straight through represented as such anyway.

Märtini Brös. - Pläy.

Turbo Recordings: 2002

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

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

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

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

Jean-Michel Jarre - Oxygene

Polydor/Capitol: 1976/2007

The only Jean-Michel Jarre album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Jean-Michel Jarre fan. Chances are though, if you do listen to Oxygene, it’s because you’re a fan and have more of his music already. Or you sought his most famous work from a sense of obligation in learning electronic music's roots, were blown away, and hunted for more (with varying degrees of enjoyment and frustration). Bottom line is, though Oxygene is supposed to be the only Jarre album in your music collection, odds are it won’t be. Ol’ Jean-Michel’s the type of musician you just can’t dabble-sample once, especially if this is your starting point.

More than just being one of Jarre’s best albums though, Oxygene was incredibly successful in the European charts, almost single-handily bringing synth music out of the realms of quirky modern classicists and krautrock weirdoes, and into the mainstream. Sure it had plenty of swooshy keyboards, sweeping pads, singing strings, musical Moogs, and Minipop rhythm machines doing the business, but there were some gosh-darned ear-wormy pieces in there too. Oxygene, Part IV is practically a pop song, following a traditional verse-chorus-verse-chorus arrangement, yet wrapped in an egg-headed craftsmanship. Elsewhere, Part VI finds a groovy hook complementing the shuffly Latin rhythm (think the ‘marimba’ pattern on a Casio keyboard). Its appeal lies in finding that perfect sweet spot between high-minded concept art and pop sensibilities – a Hot Butter and Tangerine Dream spawn wasn’t something asked for, but Jarre gave us a tasty one anyway. (mmm… buttered tangerines…)

And the influence! By God, how influential did Oxygene turn out, many synth-poppers, euro-trancers, New Agers, and ambient wibblers pointing to this album (much of Jarre’s work, really) as an inspiration. One can hear genres like space synth getting their start in pieces like Part II’s charming free-floating strings and pew-pew lasers sounds; or trance finding kinship with the repetitive rhythms of Part V. Also, is it just me, or does Part V sound like the score for a SNES game? Hell, might as well throw in early chiptune musicians with those getting something out of Jarre’s material. Lord knows the east Asian market adored the guy’s work just as much as their local synth titans like Tomita and Kitaro.

That all said, I have a bone of contention with this New Master Recording re-release. Not with the actual music itself, as everything comes in with splendid clarity and stunning space between Jarre’s layers of synths and sounds. Nay, I must ask what’s with that 3D performance, “Live In Your Living Room”? I can’t imagine anyone having a large enough screen that could fool the watcher into believing Jarre’s sparse stage set-up was actually in their abode. For that matter, hasn’t the appeal of live Jarre always been the ridiculously bombastic concerts? Nope, not buying this ‘analog performance’, despite the cool set-up of these guys working the old gear live. Stick with the standard multi-channel audio and scrap the visuals on this one, friends.

Sykonee Surveys Spotify's Senseless Suggestions: Round 1

You’re always getting recommendations from them – Amazon, iTunes, Spotify, Songza (really…?) – but how often do they align with your actual tastes? Does it depend on how effective their data algorithms are, or how large a pool of information they have to work with? Simple shameless marketing? Not that I ever bothered following their suggestions, as I beat to my own drum, seeking out the music I want to hear, not what some other thinks is best for me. Hmph. *adjusts monocle*

So when Spotify sends me an email of their suggestions (geez, already, guys?), I’m ready to automatically send it to the Trash. “But wait,” says the little spider in my head, “why not turn this into an opportunity?” “How do you mean, little spider coiled around my cerebellum?” “Reviewing the music from your personal collection’s fine and all, but why not spice things up a little? Listen to the recommendations Spotify sends you, maybe discover some new acts while giving a chance to those you’ve casually dismissed in the past.”

The Spotify Spider makes a point. I really ought to mix my content up some, lest I burn myself out on standard reviews all too quickly again. Plus, I’m curious to see whether Spotify’s suggestions might improve, narrow in on my tastes as I sample their catalog more and more.

Here’s how this’ll work. Spotify sends me ten suggestions with each email (I don’t know how frequent these will be yet). I will sample the first two songs of that artist/band/act I see on Spotify and give a quick summation of what I hear, plus a ‘rating’ based on how close Spotify got it to my interest. Sounds good? Alright, no sense wasting time, let’s get onto the first round!


Cake - 1. The Distance / 2. Short Skirt/Long Jacket

Okay, this is unexpected. I think I’ve heard of Cake, a rock/funk/hop/etc. fusion band that’s been around since the early ‘90s. The second tune sounds like something that would have come about in the late ‘90s ska era (those trumpets…), which isn’t surprising as it came out in 2001. The Distance sound more punk-grungey, again unsurprising as it’s a mid-‘90s song. I’ve a feeling their discography’s far more eclectic than this though. It’s funky enough to pique my interest. Will check some later.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5

Jungle - 1. Time / 2. The Heat

Hey, I like me some jungle! Amazing Spotify would recommend a whole genre though. Oh, wait, the band’s name is Jungle. And they’re… another fusion band, though the electro/synth-pop/glam-funk vein. Jungle’s very new too, both these tracks coming from their self-titled debut album released this year; also signed to XL Recordings, which is why Spotify suggested them to me? Both tracks are rather similar, The Heat a tad slower and groovier. They’ve definitely got a nice sound, but come off a bit too fluff and hipster-bait. Not that it’s a bad thing, as Hercules & Love Affair proved.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5

Katy Perry - 1. This Is How We Do / 2. Dark Horse

Oh dear. This is going to mess up future suggestions, isn’t it. What else is there to say about Katy Perry? She’s hot, she got an annoying high pitch, and is somehow a pop music juggernaut, currently towering over every other female in the business. She seems like a nice enough lady, even if she’s constantly presenting herself as a total ditz. I don’t need to hear anything more from her on Spotify because every pop radio station won’t stop playing her songs. Ugh. Dark Horse, her weak jump on bass music, you’ve almost certainly been forced to hear at some point this year. Not sure why This Is How We Do was the first song though, as it’s a fairly generic dance tune, even by Perry standards.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 0/5, at least on Spotify; there’s no escaping her radio presence.

Hybrid Minds - 1. Meant To Be / 2. Lost

Ah, here’s the jungle. Liquid funk to be exact, but these two tunes blend the blissy vibes of atmospheric jungle too. Hybrid Minds are another newish act, though the members have been players in the D’n’B scene for a while. Even with the standard, brisk 2-step in action, these are some lovely chill-out soul tunes. I can honestly say I haven’t heard much like it before, and I’m apparently not the only one, a quick scan of their PR praising them for an innovative direction in the liquid funk scene. Lord knows it could use it. Mmm, that Mountains album looks tantalizing…

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 4/5

Radiohead - 1. Creep / 2. No Surprises

Wait, I thought Radiohead wasn’t on Spotify! Ah, it’s just Thom Yorke that pulled his own material. Everything Radiohead released with the EMI group is here. Go figure. Also, I can’t say I’m eager to hear much more Radiohead. Creep I’ve heard plenty of times, especially at karaoke nights. I’m sated, thank you. OK Computer’s an album I’ve kinda-sorta thought about getting some day, but I’m in no rush. I totally forgot about No Surprises, those charming bells reminding me of Brian Wilson down in the mopes. I like that era of Radiohead better than their early work anyway. *gasp*

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5

Angels & Airwaves - 1. Paralyzed / 2. The Adventure

Apparently a rock supergroup, comprised of members of bands that I’ve kinda liked (NIN, The Offspring), not at all liked (Blink-182), or never heard before (*shrug*). Paralyzed is their most recent single, sounding like a heavier arena rock anthem, but is over before it ever gets warmed up. Damn radio versions. The Adventure, on the other hand, instantly reminds me of jangly ‘80s U2, but with shouty vocals rather than Bono’s operatic bellow. I can see this being a favorite of folks growing too ‘mature’ for outright angst rock, but totally not for me, thanks.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 1/5

Mayday Parade - 1. Stay / 2. Terrible Things

Another ‘punk-opera’ band? Why is Spotify recommending this to me? It says because its “popular in [my] area”, which may be true, but I haven’t a clue about that. This is a scene I don’t follow at all. A few of my old high-school friends living nearby might like it though. Actually, these two songs remind me more of emo’s more twee moments, especially so with Terrible Things, a simple piano ballad that erupts into an overblown arena-rock cry for emotion. Perfect for a teen drama. Pass.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 1/5

Grateful Dead - 1. Friend Of The Devil / 2. Casey Jones

The Grateful Dead are a very important hippie jam band in the world of hippie jam bands. I remember seeing a cool video of theirs where the band members became skeleton puppets, but they’re not a group I’ve cared to dig into much. Not from a lack of interest, oh no! There’s just so damn much of it out there, and most claim their live material’s better than studio recordings anyway. I had no idea they had a blues-rock number named after a Ninja Turtles character (hur hur!). A Dead Dive could happen some day, if I’m in the mood for ‘70s folk rock again.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5

Snow Patrol - 1. Chasing Cars / 2. You Could Be Happy

Yay, another ‘inspired by Radiohead’ shoegazey rock band. I know I’ve seen Snow Patrol name-dropped before, almost certainly on indie sites eager for the next Radiohead to emerge. I feel like I’ve heard both these songs before too, though maybe the ‘gentle twee beginning into widescreen wall-of-rock’ song writing became so prevalent in the mid-‘00s, it all mushed together from my perspective. They probably have different songs, but I’m already bored by these Radiohead clones. Moving on.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 2/5

The Strokes - 1. Reptilia / 2. Someday

Alright, real rock! Or revivalist garage rock - something with teeth at least. I still remember when The Strokes were being counted upon to save rock music from its current doldrums like it was a decade ago. Most had written them off when they went on a half-decade hiatus, but they’re back, making their same brand of unapologetically simplistic rock ‘n’ roll. I assume anyway, since these two songs are from their breakout years. Now I’m curious whether they have evolved as a band or not. Not dying to hear, mind you, but one of these days, perhaps.

Odds I’ll Listen Again: 3/5


And the final tally for this round of Spotify Suggests is 23/50. Oh dear, that’s not good at all. Then again, it is early in this experiment. We’ll see how things improve whenever I get another email.

Vitalic - OK Cowboy

[PIAS] Recordings: 2005

Electronic music was desperate for the Next Big Thing to manifest itself during the mid-‘00s and, thanks to the immense buzz behind his debut Poney EP, Vitalic was counted upon to deliver said all-time classic album that would define the decade. Instead, four years after, he released OK Cowboy, a solid LP with lots of fun music, perhaps one of the strongest albums to emerge from the dire year of 2005. However, because it leaned so heavily on Poney EP, it wasn't the classic folks expected, and considered a letdown. Oh well, back to propping up Mylo as EDM’s generational talent.

Now, how to follow that paragraph? Almost everything else I say about OK Cowboy from here on out will come off as hyperbolic gushing. Yes, I know this isn’t a perfect album, but as far as I’m concerned, it does everything it needs to smashingly well. You’ve got the old hits that made Mr. Arbez-Nicolas the talk of the underground, you got some new stuff that’s equally on par, you got ‘filler’ tracks putting several other electro-sleaze techno producers before and since to shame, and you have chill, artistic indulgences that not only prove ol’ Pascal’s far from a one-trick Poney EP, but help break up any album monotony in the process. What else can he do to make OK Cowboy more awesome? Well, maybe including You Prefer Cocaine somewhere, but three out of four Poney EP tracks probably was stretching things a little.

It’s nigh impossible to discuss this album without talking about what made ol’ Pascal’s first single such a revelation at the time. While DJ Hell’s International Deejay Gigolo print was already finding sexy new ways of combining EBM intensity with techno functionality, Vitalic added unabashed laser-kissed anthemage to the mix. The way Poney, Pt. 1’s synths and La Rock 01’s acid unceasingly build and build over pummelling rhythms were visceral reminders of techno’s raw potential energy (an attribute somehow forgotten by techno’s old guard of the time). Throw in bizarre, discordant vocals as though imagined in a David Lynch fever dream, and even the relatively subdued Poney, Pt. 2 stands out as a highlight among classics.

The other tracks, then. Could they hope to match those tunes? My Friend Dario says, “Oh Hell yeah!” with guitar riffage as infectious as any of hair metal’s best. Plus, one watch of the video, and you’ll forever be air guitaring along should you hear it play out. No Fun’s more of a typical electro-house take on the same idea, while Newman goes straight for the headbang thrash of the sound (it’s like Daft Punk’s Rock ‘N Roll, but great!). The hidden gem among all these is Repair Machines, a surprise electro-body workout that never got its due.

About the only thing that kept OK Cowboy from earning proper classic album status was a killer single near the end, but the final run of tunes are worth sticking out for. Marching drums to take us out, Vitalic? You so crazy!

The Human League - Octopus

EastWest: 1995

Seriously now, how many of you even knew The Human League had an album out in the mid-'90s? Maybe if you were in the UK at the time, you heard some buzz (it placed Top 10 on their charts), but seeing as it's their homeland, that's not much of a surprise. The rest of the world sure didn't give much hoot about Octopus though – Hell, wouldn't surprise me if most figured Phil Oakey's group ceased to be before the '80s even ended. Is that any way to treat one of new wave's most innovative acts? Sure, their blatant turn to chart-topping synth-pop may have soured those praising the original line-up (re: before the two chicks), but still.

The tale of The Human League will make for a wonderful VH1 special, following the classic rise-fall-return-respect story that channel loves churning music documentaries over. While everyone knows of their peak years (you’ve heard Don’t You Want Me Baby, guaranteed), the group fell on dire times not long after. Label problems, studio problems, and irrelevancy problems all plagued them, finally bottoming out at the turn of the ‘90s with Romantic?, an album that did so poorly that Virgin cancelled their long-term deal with them. Damn, that’s cold. It’s like Virgin flat-out confirming what the pop world was chortling: if you sound like “The ‘80s”, you have no place in the hot NOWness of “The ‘90s”.

Then “The ‘80s” became fashionable again, and The Human League saw their career rebound and appreciated, having persevered through the dark times when most would have hung things up. And that was long after having a gold-selling album like Octopus in the middle of the decade that forgot them! Hey, it’s like I said: did you even know this album existed?

For that matter, what’s even on Octopus? Synth-pop, as only The Human League does it. Guess you gotta’ hand it to Oakey for sticking with what he knows. There are some undeniably upbeat tunes here that’ll worm their way into your earholes, each with production that sounds crisp for the times without betraying the vintage analog quality the League made their mark with. These Are The Days is a fun, spacey little jaunt; One Man In My Heart, though riding Ace Of Base’s success, is charming; Cruel Young Lover makes use of breaks and electro sound effects, not to mention clever chord sequences on Oakey’s part; electro-space pop House Full Of Nothing is triumphant, defiant, and undoubtedly a little autobiographical; and instrumental John Cleese, Is He Funny? sounds like a stab at progressive house, though a tad dated by ’95 standards.

That all said, if you’re the sort who figure The Human League begins and ends with Dare, Octopus won’t interest you much. For that matter, I can’t say fans of the pre-Dare era would spring for this either. This album’s still as synth-poppy as the genre gets, but if you’re fine with a little more of the stuff in your life, Octopus will satisfy.

DJ Abasi - Nüdisorder

Intimate Productions: 2006

Every city has local DJs who are minor legends thereabouts but relatively unknown abroad. Fame and fortune, they seek these things not, for they are purists of the scene: collecting records, opening for the touring superstars, and all around just vibey chaps to hang around. DJ Abasi's one of Vancouver's best examples, a guy who's been around since the early rave days of the city and everyone knows in some way. Though I could drop a ton of events, nicknames, parties, drinks, and anecdotes associated with him, the truth is only locals would understand much of it. Besides, I suspect he'd be incredibly embarrassed by any glowing exposé beyond what I've already provided, humbleness above all else his endearing virtue.

All of which probably doesn't matter the slightest to readers from elsewheres. I mean, ol' Farshad's not a Tyler Stadius or Jay Tripwire, other Vancouver home-growns with some level recognition in the wider world of clubbing. Of course, they're well known thanks to official releases marketed in shops all over the place (and Lord Discogs). Abasi, on the other hand, had barely put out anything beyond demos intended for small circulation. This Nüdisorder was primarily intended as promotion for Intimate Productions’ DJ talent, but this being his first definitive CD release showcasing his skills behind the decks, there was some interest and excitement (launch party! ‘Farshots’!) in seeing what he’d cook up in the studio.

DJ Abasi’s main appeal’s his fluency with several genres of electronic music. Hell, this mix alone is bookended by Pet Shop Boys (a brief bit of Absolutely Fabulous at the start, and Yesterday, When I Was Mad at the end), while Hardfloor acid house (Da Revival) worms its way somewhere in the middle. Mostly though, we’re treated to the revitalized sounds of electro, mash-ups, and disco punk that flourished in early ‘00s, all genres he states were having the biggest impact on his sets at the time. Nüdisorder’s tracklist reads like a who’s who of all the hot names – Soulwax, Tiefschwarz, Tiga, Playgroup, The Juan McLean, Vitalic, etc., etc. Fortunately, his tune selection offers plenty of quirky inclusions so this CD doesn’t come off as just another hit parade.

For instance, there’s classic ‘80s tunes like The Chase but covered by 2020Soundsystem, while New Order gets in with their super-oldie Everything’s Gone Green but by way of a Cicada remix; meanwhile, here’s a cool b-side from Kittin & Hacker called The Beach, having little to do with New Order’s original. One can’t have electroclash without a proper old-school cut though, so here’s Hashim’s Al-Naafiysh. Adn speaking of remixes, why not a little DFA action on Gorillaz’ Dare? Abasi’s lengthy mash-up mixing’s a little rough at points, but it only adds to the CD’s genre-freewheeling appeal.

While I doubt folks outside the 604-district will have much interest in Nüdisorder (much less find a copy), I spent a week blathering about my old burned mix CDs, so Abasi gets a review here too. No blame.

Various - FabricLive.33: Spank Rock

Fabric: 2007

*cover art brought to you by FabricLive's “ARTIST NAME IN BIG FUCKING LETTERS” period*

Hey hey! I've now completed a FabricLive cover series too. Surely that warrants a free CD prize from Fabric. True, I'm practically getting these for nothing already, but it's the principle of the thing. C'mon, Fabric, hook a Canuck up with a bonus mix (preferably a good one).

It's an even bigger coincidence that the cover runs of fabric and FabricLive I'd complete are both from the same time, indeed the same issues (31, 32, and 33). What was it with Fabric in early 2007 that folks would want rid of these CDs so badly? True, two out of the five I've covered so far were pants, but another two were ace. Hm, does this mean FabricLive 33 is utterly average like Ralph Lawson's mix?

With a name like Spank Rock, there’s no way we’d get ‘utterly average’. The name alone inspires thoughts of either the slummiest ghetto tech or the cheekiest electrotrash. The group is somewhere in between, more known for their antics in hip-hop’s ‘Bounce’ side of things (what kind of a genre name is ‘Bounce’..!?), but also found a welcome home with drunk-sleaze electro-house clubbing as the ‘00s wore on. This mix is their attempt at condensing their shows into a sloppy, cohesive whole, which sounds like a good ol’ rollickin’ whiskey time. I mean, just look at all these names on here. Kurtis Blow! Yello! Mr. Oizo! Daft Punk! Yes! Metro Area! Tangerine Dream! (??!) Rick Ross! Chicks On Speed! Mylo! (those Talking In Your Sleep guys) The Romantics! Hot Chip! Uffie! More and more! Oh boy, this is gonna’ be like one of those awesome As Heard On Radio Soulwax mixes, I bet. Yeah, if 2 Many DJs had been totally wasted while recording.

Have you ever been to a party where the DJs (usually always two or three) are really cool guys and have fun taste in music, but always resort to pandering with the most obvious fucking tunes around? You cheer them on, ‘cause hey, it’s just a stupid night out, and you like the chaps, and you’re drunk as all Hell off of hi-balls, and ooh, I love that A Bit Patchy song by Switch, even though I just heard it played out by another DJ duo with impeccably deep crates. Oh dear, it’s that Drop The Pressure song again. I’ve heard it too much on the radio already, and dear Lord is that mix into Yes’ Owner Of A Lonely Heart ever rough – can’t you put on something not so played out anyway? Shit, now they’re painfully forcing a mix into Para One’s Dudun Dun. Get your act together, guys. I want to cheer you on (I love Miss Kittin & The Hacker’s Stock Exchange!), but give me a better reason to. Oh, what the Hell, another round of hi-balls!

Was This Worth The Pennies Paid For It?
About as worth it as $3 hi-balls. All night.

Various - FabricLive.31: The Glimmers

Fabric: 2006

*cover art brought to you by FabricLive's “ARTIST IN BIG FUCKING LETTERS” period*

The FabricLive series features quite a few acts I’m very familiar with. Due to the proliferation of breaks and jungle DJs, I’ve probably seen a good third of them, those scenes holding strong in various spots of the backdoors of British Columbia, especially so the Shambhala Music Festival. The 'party-in-the-mountains' boasts a vibrant jungle and breaks contingent, and were even early adopters of dubstep when that genre had barely begun its exodus from the UK. Plump DJs, Adam Freeland, Freestylers, Stanton Warriors, Diplo, Andy C, DJ Craze, A-Trak, Drop The Lime, and even all the way up to the latest (lambasted) FabricLive contributors Jack Beats, I’ve had the chance to check out live.

Then there’s a duo like The Glimmers. I’d never heard of these guys before, and upon reading their bio, I feel right stupid for not knowing them. Formerly the Glimmer Twins (re: Mick Jagger and Keith Richards nicknames), David Fouquaert and Mo Becha picked up the DJ trade nearly thirty years ago, playing out at Belgium clubs before raves were even a glint in the UK’s dilated eyes. Their accomplishments were relatively humble throughout the ‘90s, never seeking the spotlight but always in the mix of things within clubland, offering a funky, soulful alternative to rave’s blistering energy or eurodance’s camp. As their tracklists often contained unsung ‘80s hip-hop, rare dub reggae, and ‘70s French disco, some PR guy must have noticed how marketable such proper retro vibes were once such ‘anything goes’ mixtapey mixes grew in popularity at the turn of the century. Suddenly The Glimmers were releasing singles, LPs, DJ mixes (including one for DJ-Kicks a year prior to FabricLive.31 - how did I miss these guys!?), and receiving plenty of deserving spotlight.

Unsurprisingly for a duo influenced by the early days disco and glam, their set runs through plenty of tunes from names recognizable (Roxy Music, Freddie Mercury, Howie B.) to wacky obscure (Arpadys); from upfront disco funk (LCD Soundsystem Disco Infiltrator, their own Kobe’s In Columbia) to ancient oddities (psych-rock fuzz jam Pierre Henry); and we can’t forget those curious trainspotter’s classics either (George Kranz’ Din Daa Daa, The League Unlimited Orchestra’s Things That Dreams Are Made Of).

With all these eclectic tunes and genres, why The Glimmers must be DJ gods to make it all flow smoothly together! Ah, no, not really. Well over half these tracks are pre-‘90s, and as any DJ worth their needles will tell you, beatmatching records from those days is nothing but headaches. Instead, we get quick crossfades, intermittent ka-lumping phrasing, and songs that outright end with a half-breath of space before the next start. There’s just no simple way of segueing disco punk into reggae dub, is there.

Was This Worth The Pennies Paid For It?
I’m a sucker for mixtape sets unearthing the past as The Glimmers do here. Chalk up another steal for the money spent.

Various - Dance Mix 90

Quality Special Products: 1990

This… actually exists? I had no idea Dance Mix went back so far. My first exposure to the series was with Dance Mix ‘92 (a CD that changed everything for yours truly), but I’d seen a Dance Mix ‘91 on shelves too. It doesn’t even look like it belongs with the subsequent volumes, font and airbrushed cover art seemingly time-warped from the ‘50s – small surprise the inlay shows advertisements for a pile of ‘jukebox classics’ compilations. It’s doubly bizarre seeing it in a collection of CDs filled with grunge and hard rock. Hey, Teenage Ishkur, how did you come about having this?

Teenage Ishkur: This isn’t mine. I don’t listen to dance music. This looks lame and stupid.

Oh. I guess he got this later, after electronic music culture lured him away from ‘angst rawk’. Still, young Ish’ isn’t too far off in his appraisal of Dance Mix 90, even if it’s for the wrong reasons. This is an incredibly sloppy CD, with a bizarre track selection for the time and mixing that would embarrass even a rank amateur. MuchMusic's oversight for later volumes vastly improved upon the formula of DJ mixed dance-pop, such that it became a Canadian fixture larger than any Chris Sheppard compilation.

Between licensing issues and probable lack of knowledge about the scene at large, Dance Mix 90 is hardly a comprehensive collection of electronic music of that year, even at a commercial level. For sure there are big hits – Roxette’s The Look, Yaz’ Situation, and Milli Vanilli’s Girl You Know It’s True - but they don’t make a lick of sense when paired alongside Depeche Mode’s Strange Love, Inner City’s Big Fun, and Soul II Soul’s Keep On Movin’ - to say nothing of the copious amounts of Stock, Aitken & Waterman productions throughout. While Dance Mix would turn the genre hopping into strength once they narrowed their scope, this first attempt comes off a mish-mash of instantly dated synth-pop and club beats.

Then there’s the ‘mixing’. Oh my God, is there ever ‘mixing’. Key clashes, shoes in the dryer phrasing, nonsensical genre blends… Dance Mix 90 is so inept at creating a flowing DJ set, it’s entertaining in spite of itself. I’ll grant the DJ mix CD was still a young concept in 1990, but this has all the production chops of utter bargain-bin toss-off. Every beatmatching attempt is hilariously forced, other times we’re treated to clashing fade-slams that aren’t even timed properly, and there’s a complete second of silence between tracks midway! I understand this was intended for the tape copy of Dance Mix 90, but you don’t allow that shit on a CD designed to be a continuous mix.

This disc’s total pants, yet I can’t help being slightly intrigued by it as well, considering the legacy Dance Mix earned during the ‘90s. Like that Beatles’ Anthology, it sheds light on the inglorious beginnings of an institution many assume was great from the start.

Eurythmics - 1984 (For The Love Of Big Brother)

Virgin: 1984

It's a shoe-in, I tell ya', a shoe-in! Making a movie based on a book set upon a specific year, who could resist a chance at producing such a sure thing? What does it matter if the über-fascist society George Orwell created in 1984 never came to pass in 1984 – you can get away with an 'alternate reality' movie! Better make sure it hits theatres on time though, otherwise you'll look silly releasing a movie titled 1984 in the year 1985, or heaven forbid even later (suck it, 1956). Yep, only one chance at it. Don't let Big Brother down.

While the movie turned out a success, it didn't come without its share of controversy. Little to do with the actual content, mind you, although I'm sure more than a few folks found the Room 101 scenes squeamish. Nay, the main kerfuffle involved the soundtrack, specifically how two different scores were commissioned without either composer knowing about it.

The director, Michael Radford, had tapped orchestral writer Dominic Muldowney for music, while Almighty Virgin, which financed the film, wanted Eurythmics instead, pissing Radford off. Hey, can’t blame the director in feeling his vision was compromised by record suits, especially with Virgin editing the music cues with both scores as they saw fit. Stewart and Lennox, however, were apparently never made aware of the original score, and thus were caught off-guard by Radford’s ire. Compounding matters was Virgin toying with Eurythmics’ recordings for the LP release, making the soundtrack album as commercially viable as possible with nice, acceptable synth-pop versions of the score. Virgin probably figured they’d have their own Flashdance on their hands. No such luck, me buckos, 1984 (For The Love Of Big Brother) generating one single in Sexcrime, far from a memorable Eurythmics’ hit.

It’s best forgetting the politics involved with developing this album and regard 1984 as a concept LP Stewart and Lennox crafted on a lark, especially since little of their music as heard on this CD did end up in the film. All the icy-cool synth-pop awesome of Eurythmics’ glory years are present, with Lennox cooing on upbeat tracks Sexcrime (banned from Bible Belt airwaves!) and For The Love Of Big Brother, funkier jazz-scat in I Did It Just The Same, and charming ballad Julia. One thing that unfortunately dates these tunes is the use of a vocal sampler on Lennox’ voice, stiffly chopping it at various points (especially for Sexcrime), but it’s a quibble easily bypassed.

Besides, the true awesome of 1984 are the instrumentals, where Lennox’s non-lyrical singing becomes another tool instead of the centrepiece, and sure to surprise anyone only familiar with Eurythmics’ radio hits. Brief ambient interlude Winston’s Diary aside, the remaining tracks drive with mechanical, tribal rhythms and choking electronic soundscapes. Doubleplusgood’s incredibly ear-wormy, Ministry Of Love beautifully captures techno-futurism, and final track Room 101’s suitably menacing as it drags the album to its end with a final slam of iron doors. Chilling.

Kraftwerk - The Man-Machine

Astralwerks: 1978/2009

Bunch of sell-outs. Sure, jump on the disco bandwagon. Abandon conceptual LPs in favor of appealing to gaudy, dolled-up dance clubs. Dear Lord, they’ve made an ode directly to one of those types in The Model. It’s that Moroder influence, isn’t it. That’s the Italians, ruining everything, and now creative German electronic Krautrock music with corny pop melodies. Have your time in the lime-light, Kraftwerk, it won’t last. Everyone will forget this travesty of an album by the next decade, and the true artists of this era, like Cluster and Neu!, will be remembered for centuries.

Said some Berlin hipster in ’78. Probably.

As for the rest of the world, those charming pop melodies in The Man-Machine finally got regular folks regarding Kraftwerk as something more than a one-hit curiosity, even getting TV time and performing as the titular machine men. While their prior albums were landmarks in showing off what electronic music could produce, this one proved it could exist just fine alongside any ol' mainstream hit and not be regarded as some novelty (re: Autobahn). Granted, The Robots or The Model weren't tearing up charts the world over, but you just know many other electronic music hopefuls were taking notes.

Debate persists over which Kraftwerk album is their best, but for pure accessibility, The Man-Machine easily tops the rest. Them Germans always had an ear for a melody, but here they craft the ear-wormiest hooks they could, sounding as naturally pop as any top hit-makers of the ‘60s (you know which ones). And sure, for all you highfalutin types out there, this album does offer a proper concept. Almost certainly inspired by the classic sci-fi film Metropolis, a running theme of future societies permeates every track (sans The Model). Whether Kraftwerk aimed to spread a poignant message of such futurism with their tunes or were content in providing simple pictures with their music is up to interpretation, but that’s good pop music for you.

The particulars of The Man-Machine, you’ve heard in some form over the years. The Robots has long been the stand-out, what with those precision-perfect rhythms, spacious sound design, succinct hooks, and wicked-awesome vocal effects (it’s also great for testing headphones and stereos!). At the other end of the album is the titular cut, a cousin to The Robots, and while not as catchy, has equally awesome vocal effects. Elsewhere, Spacelab and Metropolis get their Moroder disco on, likely inspiring a legion of future space synth and trance producers in the process. Neon Lights is the obligatory extended Kraftwerk jam, charming in its own right with shimmering synths, though you have to endure Ralf’s warbling to get there. And yes, The Model, definitely lyrically goofy synth-pop by any standard, but holy cow, that bassline, mang!

Of course, for the musically egg-headed out there, The Man-Machine contains juicy goodies aplenty to drool over (theory! gear! spawned genres!), but I’m out of space. Not time though, as this album’s as timeless as Florian’s fashion.

Hot Chip - Made In The Dark (Original TC Review)

Astralwerks: 2008

(2014 Update:
Remember when it was bands that was to rescue EDM from the '00s doldrums? Man, critical darlings like LCD Soundsystem, The Klaxons, and Hot Chip were all the rage in 2008, earning magazine covers and high scores alike. Then David Guetta broke America, soon followed by dubstep's explosion of popularity, and everyone subsequently forgot about bands again. Well, not exactly. Acts like Hot Chip appealed to an older crowd, whereas the nu-EDM appealed to the youngin's out there, and as with all things, it's the youthful movements that'll dictate general cultural trends - easier to market to, y'see.

Hot Chip still had a successful follow-up in 2010 to this album though, One Life Stand; I'd even started a review of it before I gave up the writing gig for a couple years (more reasons for this forthcoming in two weeks!). In 2012, they released In Our Heads, which passed by with little fanfare. Guess folks (kids?) weren't buying what they were selling anymore, although I hear they're still kick-ass live. If they include ample tunes from this album in their set lists, I wouldn't doubt it.)


IN BRIEF: Peppy.

Truthfully, bands in electronic dance culture aren’t terribly new. It arguably all started with a four-piece act (Kraftwerk), and has seen many former rockers go digital over the years. Still, the general image most have of the live show revolves around one or two guys buried behind synths, sequencers, and laptops, with the occasional guitarist thrown into the mix. That all seems to be changing lately though; electroclash’s emergence and disco punk’s revival re-introduced clubbers to a whole world of indie music they’d long paid little heed to, and the little New York scene that DFA built has found its way into numerous pockets of the world in the years since. Now, you can even choose which sub-category of this genre of music you wish to proclaim as superior: dance-goes-rock (LCD Soundsytem; Justice) or rock-goes-dance (!!!; that silly ‘nu-rave’ thing Klaxons have going). Somewhere in the middle of it all lays Hot Chip.

Alexis Taylor and Joe Goddard make up the brains of this unlikely electro-soul-rave-wave-pop five-piece. Although obvious darlings of the hipster crowd, it was a few years before folks properly took notice. Their sophomore album The Warning certainly helped elevate their exposure, and bundles of buzz from their live shows on the festival circuit pretty much sealed the deal: anticipation and expectation on their third album would be difficult to match. So it’s just as well they forgot all that and settled on having fun with the creative process. At least, that’s what Made In The Dark sounds like.

Although Hot Chip’s flirted with a genre or two, this time they’ve stuck all their influences into a blender and added liberal amounts of pop to the mix. The result is something that’s at once chaotic and jumbled, yet super-fun just the same. These guys realize their studio (or rough approximation of one, since many of these songs were apparently conceived in Goddard’s apartment) is as much an instrument as all the guitars, synths, and tambourines they use. With such knowledge, an anything-goes mentality takes over, and the process can be sublime, provided it’s handled by musicians who remember to write music first, play with their toys second. And handle well they do indeed.

Granted, they don’t always succeed. Tracks like Bendable Poseable and Touch Too Much sound like Hot Chip needed someone reigning in all their ideas, as these overflow with excessive production; the good ideas lurking underneath are thus overshadowed. Fortunately, they’re the exceptions to Made In The Dark's general tone.

If anything, the group display an uncanny knack of making their unpredictability absolutely necessary. For example, One Pure Thought could be best described as house-music-meets-folk-rock. Yes, you read that right. Now, try to imagine Hot Chip doing without such a blend and settling on just a single influence, and chances are you’ve come away with something quaint but ultimately bland. Well, the chorus would still be good, but not as great as it is presented here.

The album is littered with such tracks. Shake A Fist, Hold On, and Don’t Dance are obviously heavily inspired by the club circuits, yet never strictly adhere to the expectations that come with that scene. Meanwhile, Out At The Pictures does the whole ‘big-disco-rock-band’ thing with winning results, while Ready For The Floor is an easy-breezy slice of crossover dance. And then there are the ballads. Good ballads!

Nearly a third of the album is dedicated to the softer side of music, and Hot Chip pulls it off with the grace of any crooner. Whether mopey musers (Whistle For Will), lovelorn lullabies (Made In The Dark; In The Privacy Of Our Love), or straight-up classy quirkfests (Wrestlers, a goofy call-to-arms rallying song inspired by, you guessed it, wrestling, with Hot Chip sounding about as threatening as a mid-80s WWF jobber ...just get a load of these lyrics: “Here we come; Drop kick; Half-Nelson; Full-Nelson; Willie Nelson... Willie Nelson.” Hilarious! ...well, if you were ever a fan of wrestling, that is ...okay, enough of this parenthesis tangent), these downtempo tunes showcase just how versatile this group is. All too often, ballads and dance music go together like oil and water in an album context (hence why ballads are usually lumped at the end whenever an act does attempt them), but Hot Chip display just as much skill in this field as they do in getting the dance floor energized.

Made In The Dark certainly is an album that will appeal to fans of many walks of music, and will undoubtedly get notice from several scenes. Heck, Metacritic alone has some thirty-five reviews available to check out, and that’s just covering the mainstream and indie-rock spreads. Even if your notion of ‘proper electronic dance music’ doesn’t hold much regard for an act that sometimes treats itself as a folk band more than techno sequencers, Hot Chip’s sense of rhythm and melody will win you over just the same.