Skin To Skin - Temenos

Waveform Records: 2002

Skin To Skin is another ultra-obscure act that Waveform Records made a habit of signing at the turn of the millennium, many of which didn’t do much after. So it also seems to be the case for this duo of Lena Måndotter and Ronnie Hall, but their page at Lord Discogs is rather bizarre. Obviously we have this album Temenos in the database, but sitting beside that is another called Walking On Water, claiming to be a folk and country rock release. That’s worlds different than what we have on this CD, so is it the same Skin To Skin? The cover art of Walking On Water does feature a lady/dude tandem in sunset, standing on water, so possibly. There’s also a single under the Skin To Skin banner, In The Shadow Of Love, with genre tags closely resembling Temenos (tribal, ambient, minimal (?)), but this one has a three-piece featured on the cover.

Going further down the Discogian Hole, Lena Måndotter apparently has a solo album out called Songs Of Leonard Cohen, released some time after all the Skin To Skin material. A very brief Google search reveals a little more, but I’m already way off track even finding basic background info about this group. The only thing I can conclusively link all this together is the fact every version of Skin To Skin is from Sweden. Naturally then, Temenos has an ancient Grecian vibe going for it.

Whatever the origin or ongoing story behind Skin To Skin, Temenos is clearly music modeled on the TUU template. Music that’s very meditative, conjuring images of Pagan rituals of cultures old and lost. Right, the Greeks aren’t really a forgotten civilization, but much of their fantastical mythology fits the bill. Thus when I hear the lengthy, minimalist rhythms, intermittent strums of acoustic guitar (bouzouki?), and droning chants of Temenos, Pt.1-3, I can’t help but think of seers assembled at oracles gazing to the heavens, seeking signs and favors from the Olympians above. Temenos itself is a site intended for meditation or reflection, so I’m not so off there.

Clocking in at nearly thirty minutes in length, Temenos, Pt. 1-3 is clearly the main feature of the album, but Side B of this CD does find further explorations of Skin To Skin’s sound. Daimon nearly hits the eighteen minute mark on its own, going from soothing calm to deeper chant throughout its run. There’s more musicality going on in this one, a clear progression compared to the meandering Temenos, but remains a rather sparse piece of meditative ambience. Final two-parter Nekyia goes dark and ominous, fitting considering the origin of the word (rite by which ghosts were called up and questioned about the future, according to WikiGod). Between both tracks, it runs a tidy nineteen minutes, gradually building from Skin To Skin’s minimal, meditating style to a heavier, dubbier groove; rather if Banco de Gaia was slowed right the f’ down. Hmm… k-holed world beat? Nah, that’s a stupid tag.

Phutureprimitive - Sub Conscious (Original TC Review)

Waveform Records: 2004

(2015 Update:
I get it. Really, I do. It's not as drastic a change as some made it out. The music on here, with all those rubbery time-signatures, it has kindred spirit with wobbly basslines and all that. Plus, it's not like Rain couldn't help himself, what with having roots in the Pacific Northwest, where the likes of Excision's Rottun Recordings have come to dominate the festival circuit Phutureprimitive toured about on. Maybe he heard plenty enough from those big stages all the younger bassheads were congregating at, where he could get a piece of that lucrative pie. Or maybe throw a few shockers in the face of die-hard psy dub hippies. Ain't nothing wrong with that. Still... dubstep? Really, dubstep!?

This review does a very poor job detailing just how unique sounding Sub Conscious is, especially since no one's repeated what's one here - difficult detailing music without other frames of reference, after all. That includes Rain himself, most of his latest offerings content recycling sounds found in every main stage dub/brostep act. We thought he'd return to this style some day, but seeing as how he's almost gone full-Skrillex now, we'll just have to settle for this one excellent album of a bygone era instead.)


IN BRIEF: Music of the future and past.

Well, it’s been a while since we dipped into these waters, eh? Shpongle’s swan song from two summers ago [2015 Edit: LOL, ‘swan song’] was the last time we reviewed anything in the warm, bubbly realms of psychedelic dub music, which is a shame given just how wonderfully diverse this music can be. Unfortunately, with so many styles of electronic music demanding our attention, fringy forms tend to get overlooked in the process.

However, I wouldn’t deem psy dub as fringe as, say, drone ambient. In fact, this form of chill music has settled into a nice little niche. Filling in for the lengthy noodly ambient productions the likes of The Orb and The Irresistible Force used to make, this is the music often heard at underground and outdoor parties attended by raving refugees. It doesn’t have the accessibility of MOR chill fodder, but nor is it so impenetrable that it’ll chase away the curious.

Hailing from America’s Northwest, the man simply known as Rain has been a part of this scene for over a decade, although kept a relatively low profile. Toiling away in his own studio, he eventually emerged with this album: Sub Conscious. Here, under the pseudonym Phutureprimitive, we find a fusion of downtempo vibes common in many underground scenes. Ethnic soundscapes, psychedelic synths, and dubby atmospherics are all melded, with neither attribute dominating the direction of a song.

While you won’t find any specific leads, Rain’s music doesn’t dawdle on go-nowhere tangents either. Rather, minor melodies and drum patterns flow from segment to segment within a track itself, maintaining an overlying theme throughout. And although the general tone of Sub Conscious tends to remain dark, tribal, and melancholic, it isn’t without its bright spots as well.

Probably the most intriguing aspect of Rain’s productions is his time-signatures. I’m no expert on this subject, but I can definitely tell when a song seems ‘off’ when compared to traditional 4/4 rhythms. And most of what you hear on Sub Conscious contains such moments where you’ll mutter to yourself, “Now that’s kind of odd.” It’s one of those nifty little subtle things that causes you to take notice of what’s actually going on in a song rather than just hang back waiting for a catchy melody or calming pad to emerge. And while these tracks aren’t super-dense so there’s a million-and-one things to discover with dutiful attention, there certainly are plenty of interesting bits to chew on during the course of a song’s playing time.

With the general information out of the way, how’s about some particulars then? That, I’m afraid, can be a bit tricky in this case.

As mentioned, the songs on this album aren’t conventional. Opener Rites Of Passage is as clear an indication of the sorts of arrangements you’ll mostly encounter. Groovy rhythms start out, sounding neither strictly organic nor synthetic, with subtle, similar effects floating in the background. Eventually, a simple, dark sweeping synth gives us our first clear melody, with additional ones bubbling in the background. Then, we move onto some tribal chants; then, a stuttery synth; then, a new stuttery synth, this time building in prominence; then, a different rhythmic section (including a different time-signature, if you’re keeping tabs on minute details like that); then, new chants; finally, orchestral swells. All the while, previous elements bubble up, maintaining a cohesive theme throughout. Skillfully, each new section feels like a proper transition from prior ones, and never sounds like self-indulgence or useless attention-grabbers. And none of these various sounds, synths and effects outshine the other, each of them finely tuned to harmonize on the same wavelength as the next.

Like this opener, many of these songs progress naturally rather than take unnecessary tangents, usually starting from a few basic ideas, then gradually building upon them to a logical conclusion. If this sounds too structured, trust me it does not come across this way, again thanks to Rain’s use of time-signatures. It lends itself an unpredictable atmosphere to the proceedings, and should the opening rhythms and minor melodies snare you, you’ll stick with it to see where the song will lead next.

Rites Of Passage throws most of Rain’s sonic ideas together; the rest of the tracks tend to stick to more singular themes while maintaining his eclectic production. Darkness and Elysium rely mostly on ethereal textures, including flowing female voices rather than tribal chants (all original, no sampling). Follow-up Ritual goes darker, conjuring up ancient tribal temple gatherings in Latin America. (Note: I could complain about some of these titles, as they are annoyingly cliché, but that’s not terribly important)

Adding some variety to these ethno-psy-dub proceedings is Spanish Fly, making use of flamenco guitars and percussion. Additionally, the song completely changes pace mid-way through, settling into a much slower rhythm than at the start. At first I thought it was just a breakdown of sorts, but was quite surprised to hear it to the end.

The rest of the album thematically carries on in similar fashion as the first half, with the eclecticism between tracks always fresh and never overcooked. At times the percussion gets more tribal (especially in Drifting) but will be naturally followed up with easy-going dubbed-out grooves (especially in Submerge). In one of the few instances of predictability on Sub Conscious, closer Dissolve is a straight ambient track, although still contains Rain’s intriguing style on it.

So, does all this talk of diverse arrangements and nifty sound collages and somber melodies make you want to rush out and buy this release? If no, I can guess why: you’re wondering where all the catchy hooks are.

Frankly, as with many forms of psy-dub, catchy bits aren’t the focus. Despite some really good minor melodies, there aren’t any that repeat long enough to get firmly stuck in your head, much less be humming later in the day. Add to the fact 4/4 rhythms are nonexistent and you have an album a casual listener is going to have trouble getting into. Rain’s production may be clear and concise, but it is still unconventional, especially in electronic music circles.

However, if what you desire in your music is uniqueness and deep engagement, then Sub Conscious should be on your Wantlist. Even if the idea of ‘ethno-psy-dub’ strikes you as bizarre, the music on this release will satisfy nonetheless.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2006. All rights reserved.

Tiga - Non Stop

Different: 2012

Hard to believe it was a full decade before Tiga released another standalone mix CD onto the market. After a trio of solid sets on his own label Turbo, and a stellar offering to DJ-Kicks, the Montreal native seemed primed to become one of the top jocks on the market. Then he discovered an innate talent at producing pseudo-pop music for a savvy clubbing audience, and he's hardly looked back since. He still did the DJ circuit, but it wasn't where his hype focused on, letting his artist albums do the talking for him instead. Thus, the only mix CD to his name between DJ-Kicks and this is a double-disc joint effort with Adrian Thomas called inthemix.05, which I assume is associated with the Australian website of the same name? Doesn't matter, since it's essentially a forgotten set compared to American Gigolo and Montreal Mix Sessions, and way overshadowed by all the quirky singles he was putting out during the mid-'00s.

Back to the heavyweight CD-mix jam we've ended up though, which can only signify one thing for Mr. Sontag: career reinvention! C'mon, it's how this story always goes. Trendy tastemaker makes mark on club scene with definitive DJ mixes, sustains a lengthy career with the sound, sound falls out of favor, jump on a fresher sound to stay relevant. Or, if incredibly uncanny, manages to create a new sound all on his/her own, but I doubt even Tiga could do that. Nay, he's instead fallen in with some of the biggest festival headliners around these last few years, like Boys Noize and the Mad Decent posse. Wait... he already was pals with them, back when he was the star and they were getting their breaks. Okay, never mind, this theory's the bunk.

In reality, Non Stop is nothing less than a statement on where Tiga's musical influences currently resides. Not a terribly adventurous concept then, but considering it's been such a long time since he gave us anything in a physical form, I'll take it. Like many of his sets from the past, Mr. Sontag is fearless in throwing various genres and styles into his mix, often using transitional snippets and blending tracks together for mash-ups ranging from cheeky to thrilling. Past attempts were often rather rough though, vinyl technology just not up to snuff in providing studio-perfect blends. Not so with Non Stop, every mix and layering sounding effortless and smooth – thanks, studio hands! Some might quibble it detracts from the sort of spontaneous, on-the-fly set Tiga's been known for, but I contend such tinkering only perfects the musical journey he's always taken folks on.

The music itself runs the gamut from warped AFX acid to bumpin’ Adam Marshall tech-house to tribal Lula Circus funk to thumpin’ Blawan techno, and proto-trance Homeboy-Hippie-FunkiDredd old-school rave. Yes, in that order, with all the gradual changes in tempo and genres that comes with it. Non Stop is a fun mix, all said, but then you’d expect nothing less from Tiga.

Aldrin - Singapore Tribal

Muzik Magazine: 2001

After a solid string of free CDs from Muzik Magazine, Singapore Tribal was such a letdown. No cool new sounds like electroclash. No tasty club hits like Chocolate Puma or Bent. No exposure to UK exports like grime or nu-skool breaks. This was just house music - kinda’ dark, a bit like the opening portions of a (then) recent Danny Tenaglia mix, but well outside my interests. If I was gonna’ get down to a brooding, dubby mix of house-based grooves, I’d get my fix from the prog camps, not this ‘tribal’ thing. Thus Singapore Tribal languished in my collection for years upon years, not even roused for a pity play. And finally, now forced to revisit Aldrin’s mix for Muzik Magazine, I must kick thyself with much gusto and shame, for oh Lord what I wouldn’t give to hear something like this out in this day of age!

I should have had more faith in Muzik, having bestowed upon Aldrin Quek praises like “Best New DJ” and “one of the world's finest residents”, referring to his home behind the decks at Zouk in Singapore. Clearly I wasn't ready for this sort of house in my life, but I also single out two other factors that soured me to Aldrin's mix CD. First, the mastering is rather rough, with frequent clipping of bass kicks. Maybe Aldrin prefers a gritty, muddy sound in his sets, but having grown used to crystal clear dynamics from Digweed mixes, I wasn't vibing on it at the time. Second, a big piece of this CD’s promotion went into a big new remix for Inner City's Big Fun, which is a big ol' bore as far as I'm concerned. The fact I'm certain none of y'all have hear of D-Wynn's tech-house rub of the Saunderson classic only proves trend-hopping remixes are seldom worth the hype. Ultimately though, Singapore Tribal didn't do it for me because I expected compilations from my free Muzik CDs, not DJ mixes. How dare a UK magazine not meet a single young Canadian adult’s expectations!

Master Sky Fairy willing though, age grants us the wisdom to learn from our earlier follies, and I came around to the sounds Aldrin was pushing. It still doesn't excuse me from ignoring a solid mix CD from Mr. Quek for so many years, but I'm pleasantly surprised that Singapore Tribal pleasantly surprised me with this playthrough. While the mastering is still too rough for my liking, and that Big Fun remix is still a big bore as a closer, the rest is pure dopeness. Thumping tribal business from Peace Division and Khaimar, chugging dub work from Jeff Bennett, bumpin’ tech-house from Jay Tripwire, and deep acid groove from Aldrin himself easily makes up for the few weak moments. Aldrin's mixing is mostly smooth throughout, momentum kept on the up such that one can easily get locked into a sweaty groove in a hot underground climate. Damn, I want to hear this stuff at a club again...

Chris Duckenfield - Sheffield Mix Sessions

Turbo Recordings: 2001

Way back in the long ago time, when Lord Discogs had yet to achieve its deity prominence among all things electronic music databased, Chris Duckenfield was as mysterious to me as the planet Pluto (woo, timely namedrop!). For the longest time, this lone mix on Turbo Recordings was his only entry, baffling a decade-younger Sykonee to no end. Why had Tiga tapped this virtual unknown for a DJ mix? After scouring Scandinavia, what prompted him commissioning a jock from the UK? Who on Earth was Chris Duckenfield, and what relationship did he have with the Montreal label? How has a guy with such a class mix CD on the market gone so unnoticed? Is he just some Sheffield local with a die-hard following, or has he done anything else of note, even in his native country? And why is there some screwy mixing going on in this set?

To answer that last question, the track indexing on this CD is gibbled. The mix from #9 occurs at #11, plays as normal through #12, while the expectant mix from there has already blown by at #10. I’d give titles but with things as wonk as they are, I haven’t a clue which is what, though I can definitely confirm that Symbiosis’ Oxygen is a mint cut within all this. Was it just my copy of Sheffield Mix Sessions with this error though? If not, poor form, Turbo, I trusted you. Chris Duckenfield trusted you!

Okay, back to Mr. Duckenfield. Despite Vassal Discogs not having much info in 2003, ol’ Chris’ profile has filled out nicely since those dark days. He’s apparently been around since the early rave days, producing along with Richard Benson as RAC, releasing an album on Warp in their formative years. Following that he teamed up with Richard Brown (Chris loves his Richards) to form Swag and release two LPs and a bundle of EPs to this day. Then there’s a ceaseless DJ career, and my mind boggles as to why Sheffield Mix Sessions remains his lone entry. Did Tiga have to twist Chris’ arm to even get this out of him? Man, they could have at least offered a snappy bio in the CD’s inlay.

As for this mix, we get ourselves a good ol’ deep session of house music direct from the tasteful times of 2001. The opening portion features names like Nigel Hayes, Jazzanova, and Morgan Geist, with a vibe that’ll have you itching to cruise out in a Mitsubishi. And even with a fucked-up track index, the middle portion of Chris’ mix is still good funky, deep tech-house fun. The final sequence goes for the tribal dub business that was quite popular with the serious house heads of the time, and would sadly fall out of favour when all things minimal became the norm. Hmm, I wonder if Duckenfield fell in lockstep with that trend too. Considering he released a 2006 single called Modern House Is Rubbish under his Duckbeats alias, I suspect not.

Juno Reactor - Shango

Metropolis: 2000

Shango is about as transitional an album as a transitional album can get. Not that we were aware of it back when Juno Reactor dropped his fifth LP in the year 2000, though one could definitely suspect Ben Watkins leaving his psy trance legacy in the dust. Bible Of Dreams already hinted at a muse looking for new roads to travel, fresh genres to explore. Maybe he'd start dabbling in that burgeoning psy dub thing, or take a stab at another ambient concept album. Ooh, industrial rock and big beat is still popular, especially with movie soundtracks – why not make a few tunes geared for TVT's latest cyberpunk thriller?

I don’t know about that, but hearing some of his Bible cuts featured in movies and video games must have given Mr. Watkins a shot of inspiration, envisioning his music in cinematic terms rather than outdoor party fodder. It's the only explanation I have for opening Shango with a track stampeding out of a Robert Rodriguez grindhouse Western. Pistolero's got the flamenco guitars, Mexican samples, bank robberies, and a ton of energy to spare, desperado rhythms furiously galloping across the arid lands of Chihuahua. No matter what you thought Juno Reactor might bring to this album, I highly doubt anyone figured it'd be something as off the dusty trail as Pistolero.

And then he changes gears straight after with Hule Lam, a collaboration with long-time South African traditionalist troupe Amampondo that goes deep into the tribal conga fury. Er, I honestly don't know which African ethnicity they draw their music from, though this song was oddly featured in a dancing mini-game tie-in to the movie Madagascar 2. Wait, what? Talk about licensing to the extreme. I hope none of the kids vibing on Hule Lam checked out the rest of Shango, only to have the fierce, terrifying meditative Badimo assault their senses shortly after.

If you're getting a feeling of musical whiplash with these descriptions, fret not for that's one of the problems with Shango as an album. Masters Of The Universe marks the midpoint of the album, and it’s the closest thing to a tear-out psy trance outing you’ll find. Following that are two versions of Nitrogen, the first having a lending hand from Orb members Alex Paterson and Greg Hunter for a thumping dubbed-out excursion, the second more of a conventional industrial-trance tune (with some mint drum fills thrown in throughout!). And while you can always count on a nice ambient closure on most albums, Shango ends with two, neither having much to do with each other. Solaris is a dark ambient outing with chants and such, while Song Of Ancestors comes off like the credits sequence to whatever movie Watkins had in mind for Pistolero.

That’s Shango in a nutshell: an LP with many great ideas and cool tunes, but little holding it together. Come Labyrinth, Watkins would tie his inspirations into cohesive whole, but here he’s figuring out just how far he can take Juno Reactor.

Sandoz - Chant To Jah

Touch/Soul Jazz Records: 1998/2002

Swell, not even a week deep into my collection of ‘S’ albums, and I’ve already hit two mislabels. Technically, Sandoz In Dub is a subtitle, specifically for a series of LPs Richard H. Kirk released in the latter years of this alias, but leave it to Media Player to get that backwards. Not even sure how the next album in my alphabetical order got so messed up, but let’s ignore the near future for now, going back to the past with another anecdote of my buying habits.

No, I’m kidding; though I should mention that Chant To Jah was the first Sandoz CD I bought. Somehow even finding one on store shelves feels like a fluke, except as with Digital Lifeforms: Redux, this was a re-issue, in this case by Soul Jazz Records – it’s kinda’ their thing. Why they went with this particular Sandoz album though, I haven’t a clue. Chant To Jah only had a few years behind it, and while undoubtedly hard to find, no more so than any other early Sandoz album. Maybe the relative ‘newness’ of the album made it an easier sell, or Kirk grew tired of Touch’s ‘scarcity is art’ marketing; or Soul Jazz head Stuart Baker adored Chant To Jah above all other Sandoz LPs. What strange machinations these record labels concoct in the odd hours of our times.

I was also initially put off by this album because I had no clue what I was in for. The only prior track I’d heard under the Sandoz banner was the ambient dub outing Beam, so I naturally thought this would be more of the same. Clearly not, as Chant To Jah goes full-in with its reggae roots and African vibes. On the surface, it sounded fine, but nothing terribly different than so much other musicians of similar ilk. Compounding my lackadaisical impression of this album was Digital Lifeforms itself when I finally got to hear that one. The sublime tribal techno and dub fusion going on in the Sandoz debut was unlike anything I’d heard before, and remains a remarkable unique entry in that ultra-micro niche avenue of electronic music. I constantly returned to Digital Lifeforms to pick out new little nuances to Mr. Kirk’s craft, whereas Chant To Jah would only get an occasional token playthrough.

Funny enough, it was those repeated plays of the former that finally led me to appreciating the latter. The combination of Jamaican and North African music already offers intriguing interplay of their distinct attributes, of which ol’ Rich does remarkably well for an industrial keyboardist. It’s the techniques learned from that wholly unrelated scene, however, that lends the music here a grit you won’t find much elsewhere. Snares clank, vocal chants distort, and dub reverb echoes off concrete halls. Yet despite the harsh textures, the soulful vibe of Afro-dub remains intact. That’s some serious musical skill pulled off, drawing you in to hear those same nuances that marked Digital Lifeforms. Took me damned long enough to get it, though.

Victor Calderone - Resonate

Statrax: 2003

Victor Calderone’s Resonate was not something I counted on reviewing, and I mean ever. Maybe there was a microscopic chance I’d stumble upon it in a used shop and, with few other options, pick it up because it was a music CD with the adjectives ‘electronic’ and ‘dance’ associated with it. Even then though, I’d be finicky, lest I grab Generic House Mix Number Ten-Thousand Ten – why settle for the obvious when a used shop can offer the bizarre and obscure? All those Hed Kandi and Ultra House collections can carry on collecting dust in the racks as far as I’m concerned, and if a few gems slip through as a result, so be it.

All this is just a long way of saying ol’ Victor’s output isn’t high on my list of Must Hears, nor would I go out of my way to indulge his records – just not enough minutes in the month to hear everything. Someone figured I’d vibe on his style though, and included this mix CD for free in an Amazon purchase. Gee, wasn’t that nice of him. Guess it’s time to suit up for a little Calderone action. Yay Discogs research!

T’was not long before The Lord That Knows All revealed where I’d seen ol’ Victor’s name before. See, this that dude who helped push New York City house music out of Strictly Rhythm’s garagey dominance into danker territory. Specifically, tribal tech-house of the sort Danny Tenaglia became synonymous with, and many prog DJs adopted into their sets after the turn of the century too. Hell, during my initial playthrough, I guessed Resonate was a 2002 release, so prevalent with the year that sound was (just a bit off). This I can definitely vibe on - if house music ain’t workin’ the disco funk, then it damn well better hit that Afro thump.

And sure enough, plenty of tribal action goes down in Resonate, with African chants, drum circles, and gnarly rhythmic groove dominating throughout. Towards the end, Calderone goes prog-prog, including King Unique’s remix of Underworld’s Two Months Off as a finisher, because of course you close a prog set with Underworld. On the way there, we hear two versions of De Loren & Color’s Alessa, an acapella mash-up of J Majik’s Love Is Not A Game upon Babilonia’s Impress Me (though since it’s Kathy Brown on the vocals, shouldn’t she get the credit?), and three of Mr. Calderone’s own productions. Oh, and can’t forget remixes from Superchumbo, Masters At Work, and D. Ramirez, because there’s always space for a few more namedrops in reviews!

If any of this sounds appealing to you, then by all means scope up Resonate wherever you happen upon it. Calderone treats his mix as though you’re arriving at a dark, sweaty club already in full swing, grabbing you by your dancing shoes early and not letting go until 6am dawn; New York house at its finest. No, I’m not saying that just because I got this free.

Bandulu - Redemption

Music Man Records: 2002

Bandulu appeared to have gone quietly into the '90s night, their brand of tribal dub techno growing less relevant as bangin' Swedish sounds and German minimalism became the norm in the new millennium. No one would have thought less of them had Cornerstone and smatterings of vinyl singles been the final impression on their lasting legacy. They'd made an undeniable mark on techno and though their LP career didn't last a decade, it's more than can be said for most producers of that scene.

Then, out of the Bandulu blue, along comes a Redemption, a fresh album for the 2000s after nearly a half-decade of relative silence. Not only was it proper full-length release, but in fact came in two variations, depending on which format you preferred. It’s not unheard of bonus tracks appearing on CD copies or vinyl exclusives rewarding the black crack addicts, but to have a mere two cuts shared between them is nigh unheard of. Why give both versions the same album name if they lack much similarity between either? Would we have even more different track lists had Redemption come out at a different era? I could see that happening with a digital format (all the space!), but I kinda’ get a chuckle out of the concept of a ‘tape-only’ version too. It’d fit the group’s ‘techno for the graffiti-filled North London streets’ manifesto.

One of the tracks on both record and CD is Jahquarius, and oh my God, when I heard this as the opener, I feared the worst. That is, I didn’t quite know what to expect going into Redemption - whether Bandulu’s techno had evolved with the times at all, or they’d stick to their rugged guns – but offering up a rather standard reggae dub outing was not what I had in mind. It’s serviceable, I’ll grant it that, and likely would have done serious compilation duty for any ol’ Dub Selector type collection. Say, why didn’t it do so anyway? Was Music Man Records too far off the beaten dub path for the downtempo market to come a knockin’ for singles? They weren’t all Green Velvet and La La Land, you know.

Fortunately for me, Jahquarius and similar tune Detention are the only cuts off Redemption like that. The rest gets back to Bandulu’s toasty slices of unrelenting tribal techno. Their street grit never sounded better, tracks like Redemption (Dub), Smooth Step, and 44100 vintage mid-‘90s bangin’ Bandulu with all the dubby effects their followers appreciate. They also make room for a few Detroit leaning tunes (Vital Sense, Rank, Wetlook), plus a couple downtempo jams too (Bill’s Gate, Mooger, Chapter 6 kinda’). Man, it feels weird saying this is one of Bandulu’s most diverse albums, even though they didn’t stray too far from their traditional sound.

That said, Redemption isn’t a starting point should you still need to take a Bandulu plunge. Rather, it’s a tasty dessert to a satisfying meal of a career. Mmm, foodstuffs…

Psychonavigation - Psychonavigation 5

Fax +49-69/450464: 2002

Pete Namlook and Bill Laswell were practically made for each other. Not so much for their musical styles, but in their ridiculous work rate and endless collaborative projects with other musicians far and wide. That they'd end up releasing ambient-leaning albums together was inevitable, and it figures they'd settle on two aliases for the task, Psychonavigation and Outland. Nine LPs came out from their work together, plus undoubtedly many more guest spots Laswell contributed to other Namlook works (I know of at least two albums from the Klause Schulze collaboration Dark Side Of The Moog). A lot of music then, yet little of which gets referenced or talked up when discussing either career. The general sounds most associate with Laswell (bass heavy dub, ethnic fusion, dark ambient) doesn't often jive with the sounds Namlook's known for (ambient techno, space music, jazzy chill-out), so the thought of the two collaborating for even one session, let alone over a dozen, is often passed by.

Okay, enough rambly pre-amble. Whatever one thinks of Psychonavigation or Outland, there’s a hard-written fact you just don’t overlook regarding Namlook: if you find first-run copies of Fax +49-69/450464 material, you snatch that shit up post-haste! Them suckers are rare as all hell, and while Ambient World was kind enough to re-issue many of them a decade ago, they too have grown increasingly expensive and rare. Plus, there’s nothing quite like having an original Fax-Plus CD in hand, vintage artwork and all. And wouldn’t you know it, I found this CD sitting idly in a major chain way out Canada west here. Dudes... dudettes... that’s just ridiculous! True, it’s the last of the Psychonavigation series, released at a time when most wouldn’t give it much care anyway (neither Laswell nor Namlook were generating much buzz in the early ‘00s), but still... “Limitation: 2000”, and I gots me one!

Oh, the music within? It’s... not what I was expecting, quite different from what the two were making in the mid-‘90s. True, it’d be foolish to not expect some developments and evolution in their work, but thumping techno? Opener The Catalyst has a thick, tribal stomp going for it alongside burbly alien noises, and though not as driving as most techno of the time, it wouldn’t sound too out of place in a warehouse setting. At the other end of this album is Life Eternal, which is more typical of the Psychonavigation stylee with dark ambience, super-dubbed sounds, and minimalist groove. Nice opening synth melody too, for as long as it lasts anyway.

The main featuring, however, is Cryosleep, a whopping thirty-two minutes with change, though broken up into four parts. Good, because the opening part, Preparation, has an overbearing synth drone running for its ten minute duration, and is not worth enduring for the subtle dub-tribal rhythm build underneath. The remainder of Cryosleep has more alien tribal-techno dub-thump going on, plus some cool samples from Vin Diesel. Man, it’s been a long time since I last watched Pitch Black...

Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia - Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1

Restless Records: 1993/1994

Ask any disciple of the Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia what the group's lasting legacy is, and you'll often get an answer of 'tribal techno'. Not just any ol' tribalism either, but the most seductive, entrancing rhythms you'll come across, produced at a time when techno felt safer in warehouses or clubs rather than outdoor gatherings. And though the collective could go a little house, ambient, or dub on occasion, it was never in sacrifice of their fascination with all things rhythmic and primal. So you'd think an EP centred entirely on the very thing PWOG are known for would be an easy sell, and you'd be right. How can you not be intrigued by Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1 on its very premise alone? Well, provided you're intrigued by the group to start with.

And if you are intrigued but have yet to take a hit, heed my advice: don’t start with this EP! I mean, I’ve already reviewed the one you should check out first, Ov Biospheres And Sacred Grooves. True, that’s an LP, but even if we stick to EPs, there’s Obsidian, Kraak, Exit 23, or Maenad for your consideration before Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1 (note: there never was a Vol. 2, at least according to Lord Discogs). Hell, even PWOG know this isn’t a starter’s set, writing the following disclaimer as part of the package: “Warning! This object has nothing to do with art or artificial intelligence. This double package (12” version) was designed for mixing, for breaks, for possession, for collectors. Dedicated to the patient and possessed.” Right, so they’re typically obtuse about it, but their point is clear – only the DJs or die-hards need apply.

Psychick Rhythms Vol. 1 is a six track EP, and boy is it ever tracky, even for techno. It sounds like they used no more than a half-dozen percussion samples, with everything fed through a touch of distortion. This gives each cut a cool gritty aesthetic, as though it was meant only to be heard in the dusty outdoors – in other words, not exactly created with home listening in mind. Furthering this notion is the absolute lack of melody whatsoever. Nada. Zilch. What, that woodblock plonk is the hook? Dude, it’s a single tone, like any hi-hat or snare in these tracks. It’s percussion like everything else. Except the simple bit of acid in Pull, that’s not percussion. I guess there’s a little choppy bit of vocal sample in Psoudoun too. Ooh, and that bassline in Ensnared has more groove to it than all the tribal drum business we’re dealing with. There’s also a weird ambient sound in Push, like someone running a rod over blocks rather than striking them. Still not a melody though.

Psychick Rythms Vol. 1 is repetitive as all Hell – one track isn’t much different from another - but as with so much about these Warriors Ov Gaia, there’s an undeniable hypnotic charm to it. Use them as tools, use them in harmony. Use them in peace.

Various - Planet Rave, Vol. 1 (2014 Update)

Triloka Records: 2000

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)


This CD really could use a do-over review. The one I originally wrote reeked of early amateur ‘skill’, rambling on with inconsequential tangents and wilfully injecting personal opinions where they weren't warranted (to say nothing about taking forever in getting to an actual point). Come to think of it, there are a number of reviews like that from the early TranceCritic years. With most of these full-length Updates, I usually shoot the shit about my old writing process, maybe throw in an anecdote or three, and fill in any noteworthy developments with the artist or label involved. I haven't considered writing a 'better' review as an option, because what else can I say that wasn't exhaustively covered in an old one? Yet that's beside the point, isn't it – why not offer something actually readable instead of eye-numbingly detailed? Lord knows there are a few such releases coming up that deserve a good, updated review.

Which bring me back to Planet Rave, Vol. 1: does it deserve such a do-over? That isn’t a slam against Triloka Records, but I know what’s up. I can feel the apathy oozing from your eye-sockets, the drab cover-art sapping your will to read much further than this. Even back when it sat in the early TranceCritic archives with little competition for attention, it languished in obscurity. Of course, a generic title like this one won’t entice curious explorers of overlooked music either.

Ironic, isn’t it. Triloka’s entire manifesto was built around bringing overlooked music from around the world to the ears of adventurous American audiences. Some of it was re-distribution of early world beat, such as the Bill Laswell sample-heavy project Material or euro-dancey Indian-pop German group Dissidenten (yes, that was somehow a legitimate thing). Or you might find a few oddities in the Triloka discography, such as Junior Vasquez providing a remix of harpist Emer Kenny’s Golden Brown - say, did Joanna Newsom ever get a Junior Vasquez remix? I bet not!

Even those names are comparatively known compared to the sorts that made up Triloka’s rotation. Ismaël Lô, Ashkaru, Little Wolf Band, Wasis Diop, Walela, Ziroq, Freddie Redd (!): this is some deep digging from many corners of the world, my friends. Two of the heavily featured groups on Planet Rave, Vol. 1 (note: there never was a Vol. 2) are Tulku and Jai Uttal & The Pagan Love Orchestra, hardly house-hold names but the closest thing to in-house stars the label managed. I maintain throwing in five Tulka tracks – including three remixes of Meena Devi - is overkill on a CD intended as a label showcase, but I cannot deny the group had crossover success. Well, if you consider being featured in the Brendan Fraser/Elizabeth Hurley comedy Bedazzled a crossover success – probably got more exposure from frequent Buddha Bar appearances.

And I’ve about run out of self-imposed word count. No proper do-over review for Planet Rave, Vol. 1, then, wonky track sequencing and all. So it goes for the Triloka legacy, sadly.

Kenji Kawai - 2002 Patlabor 2: The Movie "Sound Renewal"

Vap: 1993/2002

I indulge in anime every so often, but am nowhere near otaku levels (ignore that one year marathon in my early twenties, ne?), and definitely not to such a degree I'll snatch up soundtracks. Oh, there’s plenty of stunning works available should you go digging around, but I’m at best a casual watcher. Why, then, do I have the score to Patlabor 2, an anime that, while not hopelessly obscure, seldom comes up in discussion, especially musically. It's certainly no Macross, Cowboy Bebop, or [insert modern classic Sykonee should be checking out]. Heck, it's not even a Ghost In The Shell, the movie director Mamoru Oshii and composer Kenji Kawai worked on right after this one. In some ways though, Patlabor 2 is a conceptual precursor to their work on that flick. To get into those details, however, would utterly derail this review, and I’m here to talk music, not anime - you’ll have to find another site for that (I recommend Anime Abandon by Bennett “The Sage”, should he ever get around to reviewing Patlabor).

While Oshii’s gone down as one of anime’s most influential directors, it’s his partnership with Kawai that helped solidify his legacy. They share a film-making synergy similar to the likes of Burton and Elfman, in that you can’t help but think of the two in unison despite occasionally doing projects without the other’s input. Kawai’s also incredibly diverse when called upon, even within the Patlabor pantheon of movies, OVAs, and TV series. Peppy j-pop, traditional Japanese orchestral, and future-shock industrial, he finds ways molding his music as needed to fit the situation, and as Patlabor 2’s all about political intrigue and philosophical quandary in a near-future mecha-milieu, you bet we get ample amounts of the latter styles on this score.

As Oshii often makes use of montages in this movie (at least, when characters aren’t discussing the meaning of existence, or something), the music had to match the imagery in narrative drive. Thus, Asia’s slow tribal rhythm and ominous strings build upon the growing sense of unease as martial law is instilled upon Tokyo; ...with Love’s gentle pianos and pads contrast with harsh, tentative synths as Nagumo questions her allegiance between her duty and her heart; ”IXTL” trudges along a slow EBM beat and soft falsetto choir, far from the sort of music you’d expect from an action climax, but keeping in tone with the minimalist direction Oshii went with. Wait, when did this turn into a movie review too?

All well and good, but the piece I ultimately bought this soundtrack for was Unnatural City. A recurring motif throughout the movie (there’s three variations), it’s a simple bit of music, haunting discordant pads casting feelings of contemplation and doubt upon the scenes it plays. The easy comparisons are Eno and Glass, but Kawai injects just enough traditional instrumentation underneath to make this sound wholly his own. It’s also perfect for late nights when you find yourself staring out at city lights.

Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia - Ov Biospheres And Sacred Grooves

KK Records/Restless Records: 1992/1993

Way back in ye' golden age of 1992, the Psychick Warriors ov Gaia sound-system was developing into a fresh live techno act, infusing tribal and trance elements at a time when such ideas were strange and rare (strictly Detroit or rave, yo;', some 'intelligent' too). Their first single appeared in 1990, as Exit 23. Soon enough, this lengthy-titled LP emerged, gaining respectable plaudits from those who'd stumbled upon it. Unfortunately, being tied to industrial-leaning label KK Records limited their exposure within techno circles, adding to their mystique.

Of course, seeing phrases like “sacred grooves” and “new edge folk classics” likely has a few of you hesitant, figuring these Psychick Warriors lean deep into the sappier elements of world beat or, *gasp*, New Age even. I'll grant there is a meditative element to their work, but it's rather as TUU approached the craft, drawing out your primitive psyche, forcing withdrawal of the human ego. There is only sound, there is only rhythm. We've returned to the source of our being, as the Ancients intended. Or something.

I should point out there are a few different versions of Biospheres And Sacred Grooves. Being of the lands where the North Americans dwell, my copy comes from alt-rock/punk/metal label Restless Records, which is different from the other North American release of PWoG’s debut, on Canadian label Cargo Records (also alt-rock/punk/metal) – yes, I betrayed my brethren with this used-disc purchase. While each version merges most of the tracks into two twenty-plus minute compositions (single Obsidian stands alone), the Restless CD added Exit 23 as well. How nice of them.

Considering the cult-like following PWoG gained, you'd think Biospheres And Sacred Grooves was an all-time classic LP. Eh, not really. There’s quite a bit of downtime, ambient noodling, and experimental minimalism, much of which comes from the CD-only compositions of Anathema Ov Jean Jacques Derrillard and New Edge Mantra, book-ends of the second ‘long track’ that includes The Challenge (Part 2) and The Key (Version). Are we confused yet? Because I’ve gone cross-eyed just trying to figure out how everything’s sequenced on this CD.

Forget the track list – here’s what you need to know. The Challenge (Part One) is the sort of sound everyone identifies PWoG with: tribal-techno, with dub effects, acid groove, and dark ambience, played in a minimalistic way that’d make Hawtin weak in the knees. Obsidian is more melodic and funkier, The Key (Version) gets its reggae-house vibe on, The Tides (They Turn) goes on the downtempo trip (yay bongos), and Exit 23 is… just weird and meandering, save a killer, creaking bassline worming its way about desolate, primordial sounds. The rest of Biospheres And Sacred Grooves is extraneous fluff.

Honestly, I wouldn’t even call this album a Very Important One, as PWoG’s sound was incredibly niche, and remains so to this day. That does make it a unique offering in the annals of techno though, reason enough to spring for a copy if you enjoy diversity in your collection.

TUU - One Thousand Years (Original TC Review)

SDV Tonträger/Waveform Records: 1993/2001

(2014 Update:
Talk about redundant opening paragraphs. Yeah, it was important establishing what sort of borders we'd set for ourselves at TranceCritic, but as is abundantly clear at this blog, I care not a lick about staying within the lines. I suppose it makes calling this place 'Electronic Music Critic' disingenuous on my part, but it was the title I picked long ago, a logical evolution from the old website. Besides, despite my occasional dalliances into rock or other, I've kept things mostly on an electronic tip (yes, I'm including hip-hop in that now too).

Some additional information here that I neglected before. One Thousand Years was in fact TUU's first album, self-released on their own label before joining up with Beyond/Waveform. I always thought this came out shortly after All Our Ancestors. Lord Discogs led me astray! It makes sense though, the music here more minimalistic compared to their other material. Still really neat stuff though, if you're into atmospheric ambient as conceived by cultures from the before times, the long, long ago.)


IN BRIEF: The Ancients beckon.

For an electronic music review website, we here at TranceCritic sure tend to overreach the boundaries you’d expect of the genre. Not so much the producers who’ll take traditional instruments and fuse them with techno beats - that’s common. And not even old rock songs given the ol’ dance make-over. No, I’m talking about acts that are known for other music but may dabble in synths on a whim.

While it’s fine and dandy that we don’t restrict ourselves to a narrow field of music, it does cause a slight problem: how far can we push it before what we’re reviewing no longer fits typical electronic productions? If an experimental new wave album from Neil Young is allowed, then should all new wave and synthpop acts be given the same attention? And what about hip-hop? The Godfather has been invited, so shouldn’t the rest of that branch be allowed, especially since that music is technically more electronic than Primal Scream’s?

This is a big can of worms we flirt with on occasion but always within reason. We don’t just cover electronic music, but also the culture that comes with the package. The clubs, the outdoor parties, the chill rooms, the gear heads, the trainspotters, the DJs, the warehouses, and even the stadiums. As splintered as many EDM scenes became over the years, they still all more or less encompass the same ideals, which distinguishes it from other music scenes. Some intermixing does occur but this is primarily the reason genres are often separated the way they are in music stores.

This reads like a big disclaimer, doesn’t it. That’s because this album you’ve clicked to read a review on fits into the ‘not-quite-pure-electronic-music’ category. Might as well explain myself for once again straying from the beaten path, eh?

So, who exactly is TUU? This is a group comprised of Martin Franklin, Richard Clare and Mykl O’Dempsey, with other assorted guest contributors. During the ‘90s they made a few ambient albums together before disbanding to pursue other interests. Their sound was rather unique when compared to typical ambient offerings of the era, in that it often conjured up images of ancient exotic tribal clans gathered in a meditative circle, which probably wasn’t too far off in the audience they’d play for. The reason for their effectiveness lies in the instruments they use. Martin played the percussion, usually gentle beats on clay pots, small gongs, and other simple forms. Meanwhile, Richard’s use of soft woodwinds gave their songs warm melodies. And providing the atmosphere would be Mykl, using an assortment of synths.

As you can see, two-thirds of TUU doesn’t rely on anything electronic to produce their music, and Mykl’s use of synths are dressing for the tracks. In some instances, his contribution does lead, but Richard and Martin are usually the main focus. It begs the question then just how much of an electronic album One Thousand Years is, and if it should even be covered. Oh, foolish you be should you think such things. Yes, TUU do sound more organic than electronic, but this is still ambient music in the truest sense. Although easily playable in any environment, and even somewhat co-opted by New Age folks, ambient has largely remained within the domain of the electronic faithful.

I suppose you are wondering if I’ll ever get around to the particulars of One Thousand Years. That, I’m afraid, is tricky. This is ambient, after all, and detailing tracks is rather futile in that the music doesn’t follow any conventional form. TUU enjoy feeling their way through their songs, often times dwelling on the long vibration of a gong beat or a drawn out flute note while an eerie or calming synth smoothly slides in the background. Generally, a song’s elements will come into focus early on, with the trio improvising with each other for the course; a tribal rhythm or chant may crop up to add a little variety but not often.

As for their tone, TUU tend to remain melancholy, even at times mournful. I mentioned earlier at how their music can make one think of ancient tribes, but the trio also displays a touch of lament over our loss of the simple innocence that came with those cultures. A few tracks contain some cheerier moments - the spritely flutes in Pan America or the glowing synths in High Places, for instance - but the general feel is sorrowful and reflective. Like most ambient, the music on One Thousand Years works perfectly fine playing in the background. But should you sit down, ignore all that is around you, and just listen to what’s coming from your speakers, TUU’s work takes on a meditative quality where you’ll find yourself becoming lost within your own thoughts.

Although One Thousand Years is technically over a decade old (Waveform re-issued the album for American distribution - apparently the original European version is quite rare at this point) it hardly shows its age. Of course, this is partly for the fact TUU’s sound already has an ancient feel to it, but the production quality is top-notch as well, with each member’s contribution sounding clear and concise with plenty of room to breathe. While I wouldn’t consider this an essential purchase for fans of this sort of music, if you like your ambient quiet, contemplative, and tribal, then One Thousand Years is worth your attention.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved

The Prodigy - One Love

XL Recordings: 1993

Wow, October's turning into “Transitional Album/EP” month, isn't it. Aphex Twin's On marked a transition in his sound, Neil Young's On The Beach found him transitioning into the thematic ditch, One + One saw Zabiela and Fanciulli attempt a transition into a superstar DJ duo, and One A.D. was the start of my transition into underground electronic chill-out. Yeah, I'm stretching, but here we are with The Prodigy's One Love, their first single following the post-Experience afterglow/backlash, and a sign of things to come for Howlett's group of rave hoodlums.

Ol' Liam knew he had to change things up, was practically forced into it if he wanted any credibility retained. Jettisoning all the goofy chipmunk vocals and novelty children samples was a good start, but could he do more in getting that critical respect back? Well, there was that whole “ethnic sampling” thing going on in trendy genres like progressive house and downtempo dub music. Surely it'd be simple enough to dump one overtop another thumping rave anthem, and watch the plaudits come barrelling in. Oh, and make sure to use some cutting edge 3D computer animation for the video, since everyone's praising The Future Sound Of London for doing the same. Instant success, amirite?

Well, maybe not, folks and Mixmag pundits eternally bitter over Charly. Just to test the waters, Howlett released One Love as a white label and under the pseudonym Earthbound. It proved to be a success, the single quickly becoming a favourite with underground rave DJs. Imagine their surprise when it was revealed the same guy they’d slated was responsible for their new anthem. Damn, that’d be like Skrillex releasing jungle without anyone realizing.

As for One Love, it’s got peppy organ stabs, didgeridoos, and a chant borrowed from Magi & Emanation’s Everybody Say Love (whom Howlett remixed). It’s also ridiculously dated sounding, especially compared to the music that would end up on Music For The Jilted Generation. Really, the history behind its release is far more interesting than the end result, especially compared to the other tracks on the single. Full Throttle’s fierce attack, which also ended up on the album in a slightly edited form (where’s Luke Skywalker, mang?), was more indicative of where The Prodigy were headed while retaining the tribal rhythms Howlett seemed set on utilizing.

All well and good, but let’s face it: the better ‘transition’ track found on this single is Rhythm Of Life. It’s got a pile of old school tropes, including the overused Native yelps that were oh-so tired by 1993. This is one nasty piece of rave business though, Howlett giving us a taste of the techno thrash that’d he’d make his distinctive sound. By comparison, the trancey-techno Johnny L Remix of One Love comes off unremarkable and bland. Why you no jungle the track up, Johnny?

Whatever. Get this single for Rhythm Of Life, and nothing else. One Love was a worthy step for Howlett, but a dead-end style of music where The Prodigy’s legacy’s concerned.

Bandulu - Guidance

Infonet/Never Records: 1993/1996

While most of the UK were getting their rave hardcore techno on, one three-piece found themselves drawn to the source of it all, merry ol’ Detroit. Hey, if chaps from Germany and France could make American future-funk music, why not blokes from London too? These three men though - Jamie Bissmire, Lucien Thompson, and John O’Connell – couldn’t escape the musical melting pot that was the UK, immigrants from all the former empire’s old colonies bringing their sounds to the British underground as rave culture fostered bountiful creative growth. Some sound experiments flashed brilliantly, then swiftly died; others slowly burned and carry on to this day. Bandulu’s first album, Guidance, captures that period where it seemed nothing was off limits for UK techno.

Take the titular opener. What is it? Tribal? Trance? Techno? Dub? Progressive house? Oh, who cares – awesome is what it is, especially with a big bassline that’d leave Leftfield weak in the knees. That said, little else on Guidance hits the same perfect blend of genre soup quite like that cut does, the rest mostly focusing on those Detroit techno influences while keeping the open-air rave vibe going.

This leads to a lot of tunes sounding rather like trance, even earning them duty on a few early trance compilations before Bandulu went full dub techno. Revelation, a blissy space flight that would have gotten early Eye-Q’s attention; Peacekeeper works the loopy rhythms with echo washes (plus clap-action Oliver Lieb would be proud of); and Earth 6 is what early goa trance would have sounded like had the genre taken its cues from techno rather than industrial. As for the techno side of things, Messenger’s the groovy one, Gravity Pull’s the future-dystopian one, Flex is the Carl Craig inspired one (plus an added ethnic chant),Tribal Reign is the ‘experimental-Craig’ one, and Better Nation is the Carl Craig Innerzone Mix one. Yep, the Detroit don himself gets a credit on Bandulu’s debut – guess the London act’s influences didn’t go unnoticed in Old Techno Mecca at all. There’s also a downtempo-dub cut with Invaders, the sort of tune that undoubtedly earned Bandulu a bunch of gigs with Megadog.

So high praise abounds for Guidance, but here’s the caveat I must make with so much music from the early ‘90s: it’s rather dated. Bandulu as a group had yet to refine their production, thus many of the drum kits, synths, and samples are firmly rooted in that era of UK techno. Nothing’s outright tinny or anything, but clearly lacking the sonic finesse later works offered. Heck, as tracky as Cornerstone was, the music on there could at least still be played in a modern setting and few would be the wiser. Guidance, on the other hand, will have folks thinking of techno from the way back whens, the long long agos. All of which is fine should you have a fondness for this time and are looking for more neglected gems, as few techno LPs sound quite like Guidance, then or since.

Various - Motion: A Six Degrees Dance Collection

Six Degrees Records: 2001

I'd probably have never given Six Degrees Records much thought if Toby Marks hadn't joined them for State-side distribution. When I dug a bit further into Six Degrees' manifesto, however, I found the cut of their jib most intriguing. Electronic dance music fused with world beats and culturally-inclined jazz-folk; yet of a classier, underground sort, not that cheesy New Age stuff Deep Forest inspired. As it turned out, Six Degrees lured in plenty of significant names of this scene (Karsh Kale, State Of Bengal, Cheb I Sabbah, etc.), plus a number of breaks and house outliers who had similar interests (DJ Cam, King Britt, DJ Spooky).

To accommodate their growing roster and interests of dance music, Six Degrees started a few compilation series for promotion. Traveller was their main one with a focus on label exclusives, but as any good label knows, you need that remix series too. Enter Motion.

I better admit here that I’ve only gone ankle-deep into the Six Degrees waters. Maybe it was the shock of Cheb I Sabbah’s La Kahena’s pure traditionalism, as this is a label you don’t beat around the bush with. If you’re a house or breaks enthusiast, some acts are familiar enough in style that a few releases would sit nicely with well known names. Below that surface though, chances are you’ll continually be confounded by forms of world music you did not know exist, much less find the time to explore all their nuances. I’m sure there’s much rich diversity to discover with Six Degrees, but I simply haven’t dedicated any time towards doing so, content with Banco de Gaia’s content and whatever associated music he happens to drag along with.

Speaking of, here’s Motion, about as friendly an introduction to the label as any house head could hope for. A couple names should already be familiar to those well-versed in that scene, including Sylk 130 (a King Britt alias) and dZihan & Kamien. Some may remember the duo who were part of the early ‘00s resurgence of European flavoured deep house, yet weren’t of Nordic descent; instead, they lent an Eastern bit of flair to their sound, and thus were quite chummy with Kruder & Dorfmeister sorts. dZ&K also get the lone non-remixed tune on Motion, the exclusive B Movie which is all kinds of groovy shuffle and floaty bliss. Elesewhere, DJ Cam re-rubs his own DJ Cam Soundsystem into a disco dubby cut that DJ Sneak would nod approvingly for.

In the back end of Motion, things go more prog-house with The Light and PFN’s remix of Banco de Gaia’s Obsidian, while harpist Monica Ramos has her upbeat Ocean re-arranged for Balearic DJs, and Garry Hughes almost goes proper psy-dub with his take on Euphoria’s Delirium (no, not Delerium’s Euphoria - that’s something else).

Despite this CD’s age (geez, a decade-plus!), it remains a solid collection of Six Degrees sounds and an easy primer. Or a good collection of ethnically-tinged house music. Your choice.

Banco de Gaia - Maya (20th Anniversary Edition)

Disco Gecko: 1994/2014

Four months in, and I finally am reviewing something released in the year 2014. Unfortunately for those only interested in the latest and, um, latest (has a definitive classic been released yet?), it’s a 20th anniversary re-issue of an act I've undoubtedly talked way too much of over the years. Banco de Gaia certainly has his fans (oh hi, me!), but at two-decades plus into his career, the odds dwindle at Toby Marks capturing the interest of newer folks out there. Fact is, this style of music generated most of its significant PR during the '90s, when any fresh, new genre could earn big write-ups in music magazines read by several thousands. As electronic music and the scenes it cultivated grew ever more segmented and niche, the potential general market dwindled, sub-genres sustained by the dedicated and the hardcore. And while something from the past occasionally gets a fashionable make-over, its unlikely Banco de Gaia will benefit from such an opportunity any time soon.

Thus we’re left with a triple-pack CD that’s daunting to the uninitiated, and a little redundant for the dedicated (oh hi, me again). Mr. Marks had to know this going in, hence limiting the release to just 1,500 copies, a fair sum in this day and age – makes me wonder how many quantities the limited 3CD set of Last Train To Lhasa ran for. Included here is the original Maya, handy for those who may need a replacement of the twenty year old disc but never sprung for the 2002 re-issue (*cough*), and two alternate discs with different versions of the same tracks. A nifty gimmick with these extra CDs is how the songs are sequenced in the same order as Maya-prime.

CD3’s the redundant one for me, as it contains many remixes I already got on various other sources. New to this release, however, is a couple more live cuts (Shanti and Data Inadequate doing the business, though the latter’s not as fun as the Glastonbury version), plus a thumpin’ breaks remix of Mafich Arabi from Temple Hedz. Also, I’m surprised I never made the connection before, but the Blue Mix of Soufie has elements reused in the album version of Maya. Even us fanboys keeping discovering things with proper context!

CD2 has all new-old material, some of which is totally fans-only curiosities (an original demo of Mafich Arabi), and some that’s sublime catnip. The ultra-long Duck! Asteroid version of Kincajou wasn’t the first time Marks indulged himself with an ambient epic – here we get a twenty-plus minute ‘original master’ of the Red With White Spots version of Shanti. Oh my God, I ambientdubgasm! The Green Tractor Mix of Sheesha’s nice too, livelier than the normal version.

Still with me at the end here? If so, chances are you’re enough of a Banco de Gaia fan that you’ve already ordered your copy of Maya (20th Anniversary Edition). If you haven’t, better hurry – you may not be so lucky for a 40th Edition.

Banco de Gaia - The Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia

Six Degrees Records: 1999/2000

Despite the brilliance that was Big Men Cry, Toby Marks couldn't mope forever. He freed himself of old label woes, established his own print in Disco Gecko, and discovered something in the process: the idea of Banco de Gaia as a proper band could work. All these factors likely contributed to the sudden, upbeat change in tone for his fourth proper LP, The Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia. Even the title's playfully tongue-in-cheek: nothing sombre, political, or reflective here, just happy fun-times found within, trust.

And even if all that wasn't enough to convince you that you were in for a peppier album than normal, the first track is I Love Baby Cheesy, a truly ridiculous title if ever there was, and a right hoot to boot. I've already reviewed the single for that though, and truth is it was the only real single to emerge from Magical Sounds. Back in those days, you could count on at least a pair of EPs, so what's up with that? Were there no other single-worthy tunes on here?

B’ah, what a laugh - choice cuts were selected for other releases, is all. The lovey-dubby Sinhala and spacey ethno-breaks Touching The Void made the cut on the 10 Years retrospective, while a live rendition of funky, world beat, communal-chanter No Rain appeared on another retrospective in Memories Dreams Reflections. Oh, and Glove Puppet was re-purposed into trip-hop for the follow-up album Igizeh, which makes some sense as the version here’s about as solemn as Magical Sounds gets, what with mournful strings and samples of war playing in the background (yeah, still got that Pink Floyd thing going on).

The three other tracks aren’t slouches either, and in some ways are among my favourite Banco tunes around. Harvey And The Old Ones, for instance, ranks high among the most unique tunes to come from the World Bank. Layers of instruments and rhythmic chants continually build upon each other, conjuring the sort of imagery you’d expect of a tribal gathering out in the hills of India. Things briefly break down midway, then a thumpin’ techno beat emerges as everything rejoins the party for a raucous climax. It’s a fun track all around, the sort of tune that’d go off wonderfully at an outdoor hippie jam. 144k? is another buoyant track, though it wanders around with melancholic, atmospheric ambient dub for much of its duration. Considering the downbeat nature of the opening two-thirds, having such an uplifting end to the tune’s almost cathartic, despite Marks laying the sentiment on rather thick with a chanting sample of “We are beautiful people. We are chosen ones.” Follow-up Frog’s Dinner gets back to the world beat dub style he made his name on from the Planet Dog days, but this one wanders a bit much for my liking.

So I like Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia, but ya’ll knew I would anyway. I like everything from Marks, right? Eh, wait until we reach the ‘Y’s.