King Cannibal - Ninja Tune XX Presents: The Way Of The Ninja

Ninja Tune: 2010

70 Minutes Of Madness? This one’s insanity, two-hundred fifty-six tunes utilized, some barely for a second's worth of sample. This isn't a DJ mix in the traditional sense, but rather an overambitious collage celebrating Ninja Tune's twentieth anniversary, ramming and jamming as many cuts and blends possible so no one significant is left behind. And while King Cannibal was at it, here's the sub-labels getting repped too: Big Dada, N-Tone, and Counter. Can’t deny Mr. Richards’ passion for this project, but can there be fault in the final product?

Depends how you approach The Way Of The Ninja. As a DJ set highlighting all the Ninja Tune, it’s far too stuffed with content for any sustained flow. The label made their name with acid jazz, trip-hop, turntablisism, and other down-low soulful-funky genres of the ‘90s, and even as their influence waned, they kept their fingers on the pulse of new developments - dubstep, grime, and even indie rock found homes within Ninja Tune’s archives, always signing music and acts beyond class. Just as well, then, that The Cannibalistic Lord divided everything up into uniquely titled sections featuring specific genres or highlighting certain artists. Including the Intro, Way Of The Ninja has twenty of these mini-megamixes within the mix. And remember, there’s two-hundred fifty-six individual tracks used, all crammed into these indexes. This CD, it’s full of musics!

The Intro track alone, at just under two minutes long, has nineteen bits and pieces listed. The shortest track on here, subtitled Big Tunes, Big Hits, runs a minute-twenty and has a ‘mere’ eight tunes, including two mixes of More Beats & Pieces. Meanwhile, the lengthiest one, Welcome To Our Ageing Sideshow, clocks in at the heftier side of six minutes, also with nineteen tunes squeezed in (ooh, Timber’s in this one!). Hell, two more chunks, I Wanna See All The Hands and Tings Get Heat Up, Rewound And Torn Down hold about the same number of tracks, with a mere four minutes of run-time. So much musics, man, just so much musics.

Artists? Coldcut, Amon Tobin, Herbaliser, Roots Manuva, DJ Vadim, Mr. Scruff, DJ Food, Hexstatic, Bonobo, Neotropic, The Bug, Sixtoo, Jaga Jazzist, Super Numeri, Funki Porcini, Qemists, Cujo, Spank Rock, Thunderheist, Fink, 2 Player, Wagon Christ, Anti Pop Consortium- Look, I’ll be here forever if I list off the near-entirety of the Ninja Tune roster. Same with pointing out specific tracks, although obviously not every single song’s on here. And, while King Cannibal tries giving many their due, some get cut short (no Irresistible Force, what?) or have barely a token sample tossed in. For instance, I was gutted the bass drop of his own Flower Of Flesh And Blood never materialized. Wow, I actually missed a dubstep drop. Crazy.

So’s The Way Of The Ninja. It’s a fun CD if you want to relive so much Ninja Tune in a short amount of time, but best treated as a novelty rather than a proper showcase of the label’s rich history.

The Irresistible Force - Nepalese Bliss

Ninja Tune: 1998

Won't front, I was disappointed in this single. Totally my fault, of course, expecting Nepalese Bliss to show as much diversity as the Fish Dances EP, but I failed to realize the two are totally different wee-beasts. Fish Dances was more of a mini remix album, nicking various tunes from It's Tomorrow Already for re-rub duty rather than a sole focus on a single song. Hell, another remix of Nepalese Bliss was added to Fish Dances, as though there just wasn't enough room on its own single! Perhaps so if we're dealing with the vinyl version, plus it's possible a couple more remixing names were drawn in after the fact, missing the initial street date of the album's lead single.

Yeah, far as Lord Discogs can tell me, Nepalese Bliss was intended as an introduction of Mixmaster Morris’ style to the Ninja Tune, just in case a full album was too much to digest all at once. Released a month before It's Tomorrow Already hit the streets, this track’s about the closest thing on it at capturing the jazz-hop sound Coldcut's label grew famous for. Heck, Mr. Irresistible Force probably produced it specifically with their audience in mind, because the regular Ninja followers sure weren't likely to give a psychedelic ambient-techno noodler much care otherwise. Here, just try out some Nepalese Bliss, it’s like that ganja smoke you toke, only more, more, more so. Well, the voice-over claims it’s the street term for hashish with streaks of opium ash in it, definitely a vibe the acid jazz folks could dig on in their dens.

To further sell The Irresistible Force upon their dedicated clientele, Ninja Tune brought in two of their heaviest hitters for the rubs, DJ Food and Amon Tobin. As part of the label since its inception, it’s little surprise the Fooded Ones (Strictly Kev, plus Patrick Carpenter at this point in the project’s life) go deeper into the deep acid jazz vibes: less psychedelic flashes, more smoky haze. Amon being Amon, it’s all about the dip and drop into trip-hop skunk – something a bit heavy in that cut of Nepalese bliss, methinks. Fila Brazillia were also brought in from Pork Records for an upbeat funky nu-jazz remix, because it’s Fila Brazillia, and that’s just what they does.

So the music’s fine on this EP, but as mentioned, rather pedestrian as a package. The remixers offer exactly what you’d expect of the names, and I’ve no idea why a Radio Edit would be included here – Hell, would anything from Mixmaster Morris ever get airplay? No, modern micro-niche internet radio streams don’t count. This was the late ‘90s, yo’, this music’s only ridin’ proper AM or FM waves out there. Still, one curious thing about the CD inlay is how there are seams creating twenty-one equal-sized rectangles, as though intended for separation and used as a make-shift puzzle pieces of the cover. Cool idea if so, but wouldn’t that devalue the single’s resell worth on the used market?

Boards Of Canada - Music Has The Right To Children

Warp Records: 1998/2004

What is it about Music Has The Right To Children that's allowed it to endure as a classic album within electronic music's long history? Is it the positive impact it had on the IDM market, rescuing that scene from ever-deepening navel gazing experimentation? Is it how it lured in a tonne of proto-hipster kids after Boards Of Canada were NME and Pitchfork Approved, one of the first electronic albums made so during the net-‘zine's early years? Might it be the perfect timing of this LP's release, capturing the attention of an ageing raving demographic that found itself wistfully longing for the innocence of their youth? Will this paragraph have at least one sentence that isn't in the form of a question?

The answer to all but the last of these is “yes”. In a broader sense, Music Has The Right To Children was one of the few electronic albums of the ‘90s that had wide appeal no matter your background, surprising many with its charming tone. Just take an impossibly geeky style of electronic music like ‘70s analog synth work, and pair it with an impossibly cool style of electronic music, in this case trip-hop. It’s such a simple idea, one wonders why no one thought of it before Boards Of Canada. Who could have guessed that the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and Ninja Tune getting sexed up was something folks longed for.

Much has been said about the nostalgic nature of Musically Right-Handed Children, many theories out there why this album touches folks the way it does. The playful bounce of Roygbiv and quirky sampling of Aquarius certainly plays a part in recalling those days of childlike whimsy, yet as we age, a warped sense of cynicism creeps in too. The off-kilter “love”s in The Color Of The Fire, disconcerting synth tones of Sixtyten, or rhythmically-chopped vocals of Telephasic Workshop suggest the world we grew up in wasn’t so perfect after all.

Still, it’s all theory, and for all we know, Boards Of Canada just enjoy toying with different emotions in their music. Ultimately, what wormed its way into the minds and hearts of countless fans were simple, catchy moments. The aforementioned Aquarius is a perfect example, no one able to mention BoC and the word “orange” without saying it in the goofy way that it does in that track. This album’s filled with such quirks, often tucked away in brief sonic doodles throughout. I’d wager the duo’s at their best when they focus less on song craft and simply indulge themselves, but the few fully-formed tracks they do provide remains some of their most enduring work.

Music Has The Right To Children has one drawback though: those trip-hop rhythms. They sounded great in the late ‘90s, but over a decade of glitch rhythms since, I’m not sure newer audiences would dig them quite so much. Then again, the synths Boards Of Canada use sound older than time itself, and that’s never stopped folks from enjoying this album.

Various - Macro Dub Infection, Volume 1

Virgin: 1995

Before he was turning dancehall heads as The Bug, Kevin Martin paid his flat money compiling a few CDs for Virgin Records. His first was the fourth volume of Virgin's double-disc ambient series showcasing acts from the genre's lengthy history, most of the prior volumes culling material from Virgin's own extensive back catalogue. Having exhausted all the familiar names though, they turned to Mr. Martin for his expertise on most things avant-garde, experimental, and dubby. Not sure what prompted Virgin’s show of faith in an oddball post-rocker, but his selections must have impressed the label enough to give him his own short-lived series, Macro Dub Infection. Or maybe Virgin just wanted in on that 'ambient dub house' trend The Orb spearheaded. Way to be late to the game, guys!

Still, Pre-Bug didn’t follow that rule by a long shot. Instead, he gathered up two CDs worth of dub-influenced music from across the electronic board. Some names and tunes are about as you’d expect from a compilation style-biting Beyond’s gimmick. Opener The Struggle Of Life from The Disciple hits all those classic ambient reggae-dub vibes, and other familiar jams from 2 Badcard, Rootsman, Automaton (Bill Laswell under his eight-zillionth alias) round out a first half of tunes most likely expected of a compilation titled Marcro Dub Infection. What’s that atmospheric jungle cut from Spring Heel Jack doing at the second position though? Yeah, there’s plenty of dubby affects at work in there, but no one said this was a drum ‘n’ bass collection too. Wait, Omni Trio’s on this as well? Pft, if you think that’s odd, get a load of classic industrial group Coil getting in on this action; not to mention indie post-rockers Tortoise, IDM wonk Bedouin Ascent, and ill trip-hoppers Skull vs. Ice. And that’s just CD1!

Frankly, ol’ Kev’ going off the proper deep end by showing off even the most tangently dub music out there (it’s an infection upon all musics!) is about the best way he could have put this together. Retreading the reggae-roots style so many others had before would be utterly redundant in 1995, and plenty others were filling in other aspects of dub (Planet Dog’s got the ethno-psy-dub covered, mang). Better to show off acts few would associate with the macro-genre while you have the chance.

Most interesting are the tracks by names that might have lured potential buyers based on chart recognition. The Paranormal In 4 Forms finds breaks pioneers 4 Hero running the gamut of ambient, trip-hop, jungle, and even classic techno in a span of eight minutes. Elsewhere on CD2, Tricky goes all weird abstraction with Ambient Pumpkin (oh hi, Goldfrapp). And I’ll take the ambient techno-dub style of Bandulu’s Come Forward any day, mainly because Macro Dub Infection’s the only place one can find this track.

In fact, there’s quite a few exclusives and rarities on this collection, just another of its selling points. Variety of music and extensive liner notes of dub’s history aren’t bad incentives either.

The Future Sound Of London - Lifeforms

Virgin Music: 1994

The Future Sound Of London always struck me as an odd group, and as I didn't come around to them until their Dead Cities period, I had some catching up to do. The club-friendly material off Accelerator was an easy introduction to the sounds they were capable of, but Lifeforms seemed daunting. A double-LP with nary a recognizable hit in the tracklist? Goodness, what's a young raver taking his first, tentative steps into this weird, wide electronic music world to do? I mean, this must be a good album, if all those old-schoolers are loving it, though they don't talk of it as much as Papua New Guinea or We Have Explosives. Still, really cool looking cover art...

So yeah, Lifeforms was the last of the First Three FSOL albums I picked up, but it wasn’t that long after getting the other two; thus, I’ve had plenty of time to listen, re-listen, analyze, contemplate, and understand Dougans and Cobain’s weird ambient opus. I’m still working on that. For that matter, who isn’t? I wouldn’t go so far as to say Lifeforms is a hopelessly complex piece of abstract music, as the basic concept is straight-forward enough: raid all the nature sample libraries, mesh it with ambient house and trip-hop of the day, take a ton of drugs [citation needed], and see what springs forth from the muse.

Even that doesn’t seem too far removed from what The Orb was doing, but whereas Dr. Patterson had a playfully chill outlook to his music, FSOL have larger ideas on mind. I honestly don’t know if this was their intent, but the concept in Lifeforms I’ve gleaned over the years is each disc tells a different story of evolution: CD1 the primordial growth to complex organisms, CD2 the arrival of higher intelligence and future-shock technology.

I’m risking turning this review into a graduate thesis, so I’ll make my explanation brief. Aside from the interlude Bird Wings, disc one typically has natural sounds running through it: gentle washing pianos, tribal drums, bells, un-manipulated chants and animal calls. The clincher, however, is the benign nature of the music on this first half. Lovely melodies in Cascade, haunting synths in Ill Flower and Dead Skin Cells, and even a sense of innocent playfulness in Flak and Among Myselves. The Garden of Eden is a wonderful place to be.

Not so in disc two. As almost a parody of advancing intellect, FSOL open with a brief, ominous version of Pachelbel’s Canon and Gigue in D Major. From there, harsh bleeps emerge in Spineless Jelly, and we’re on our way into a dystopian outlook of nature for the duration. True, there are lovely moments still found (Omnipresence, Elaborate Burn), but always coupled with aggressive electronics. We’re a far cry from the tranquility of CD1.

It makes Lifeforms no less captivating, even if many of the interludes are just effects wibble. Check it out, and discover what weird things come to your mind.

Sounds From The Ground - Kin

Waveform Records: 1995/1996

What the Hell? I know the first track, Gather. Wasn’t it on a Coldcut mix CD? Yeah, it was, Tone Tales From Tomorrow Too. But I don't recall seeing Sounds From The Ground in the tracklist. Don't tell me this was sampled from it. It's pretty damn close, but kinda different too. I'm confused. Help me, oh Lord Discogs! *brief moment later*. Ah, the group that initially made Gather, Path, was a project by Elliot Morgan Jones and Alan Bleay. Guess Mr. Jones took it for use when he and Nick Woolfson started their Sounds From The Ground work. And there are quite a few prior projects between both their discographies too. Did they recycle other material for their debut Ground Sounds album, Kin? It would explain the disparate tone running through this CD.

I'm not sure what prompted the duo to initially hook up, but their first production, Triangle, must have convinced them to keep making music together forever after. I can hear why, as the tune's a wonderful blend of early '90s ambient techno and dub, definitely a standout from a time when fans were spoiled for choice of this sound. Beyond snapped it up for their fourth and last volume in the Ambient Dub series, and naturally Waveform did the same, also offering them Stateside distribution of Kin.

Getting back to that ‘disparity’ I mentioned at first, folks coming to Kin expecting more Triangles would definitely be thrown for a loop by the opener Gather - on an acidy trip-hop tip, it’s small wonder Coldcut used the original version for a mix. Follow-up Drawn To A Woman is also in this vein, though sounding closer to acid jazz in this case. But yes, ambient dub be where those Sounds From The Ground come from, and the middle portion of Kin indulges in the genre a fair bit. Some of it’s fine – I can’t resist the pure dub funk of Loaf - but others are rather rambly, never going much of anywhere, seemingly content to remain wallpaper.

The last two cuts stand out as oddities as much as the first two, giving Kin a curious consistency, but not one that’ll have you reaching for a full playthrough. Where The Wild Things Were borrows elements from Gather, then throws it into a standard world beat jam. Banco de Gaia it ain’t. And finishing things off is... psy dub? That’s unexpected, and Seven Sisters is okay as a mid-‘90s example of the sound, but Simon Posford and his ilk have spoiled us with fresher takes on the genre since.

So Kin is a mixed bag, all things considered. Triangle is a great track, but it’s been whored to tons of compilations over the years - getting this album solely for it isn’t worth it. Jones and Woolfson were still discovering their sound here, which is interesting for those intrigued by their discography. It’s not an essential purchase though, most of the music on display following tropes rather than defining them.

Various - !K7150

Studio !K7: 2003

I got this for exactly one track, which is a pretty ludicrous investment for a double-CD release. Oh, I had faith most of the other tunes would turn out good, as !K7150 came highly recommended by all the rags I gave a shit about, but I probably wouldn't have picked it up had Tiga's Hot In Herre not been among the cuts. And like Hell I’d pick up Ministry Of Sound’s The Annual 2004 for it. If I’m going the 2CD route for one song, I sure don’t want a case where it’s the only song I’ll like. Besides, everyone knows Studio !K7 is all sorts of class, and MOS is... whatever the opposite of ‘class’ is.

It didn't hurt some of the other names dropped in write-ups for !K7150 were acts I was mostly familiar in name only. What better way to finally check out Herbert, Trevor Jackson, Recloose, Funkstörung, Ghost Cauldron, and Tosca (what, I was a late to the Kruder & Dorfmeister party)? Pairing them with personally proven names – Swayzak! Princess Superstar! DJ Hell! Guy Called Gerald! Earl Zinger? - and this was about as far from a risky purchase for yours truly as I'd ever made back in my financially lean times.

More than just a celebration of one-hundred and fifty catalogue releases from Studio !K7, this double-CD collection serves as a strong statement of what the long-running German label had musically been up to. Quite a bit, turns out, with plenty of diversity between genres, though skewing towards the downtempo side of things more often than not (must be that K&D influence). Conveniently, these genres are mostly lumped together as things play through, so if you get tired of hearing dub or electroclash (hey, early 2000s), just skip some tracks and you’ll be hearing something entirely different instead.

Dunno why anyone would want to skip these tunes though. The opening stretch of jazzy downtempo oozes inner city cool, while brisk upbeat cuts like Guy Called Gerald’s jazzstep Humanity and Ashely Beedle’s remix of Smith & Mighty’s Same will get your festive vibes in full swing. And alright, the dub-cuts at the end of CD1 hit all the right head-bobbin’ centers in my noggin’.

CD2 goes into less familiar territory where Studio !K7 was concerned, but then electroclash in general still had plenty of unexplored ground to discover (and a shame it barely did anything in the following years). Most of the tunes included here’s closer to icy microhouse (because Swayzak) and techno, so more of an evolution from the coy irony that defined the genre in its early years (though Trevor Jackson calling his remix of Behind The Wheel an Electroca$h Mix screams it).There’s also some hip-trip-hop at the end that’s... um, there.

Okay, !K7150 isn’t perfect from end to end, but there’s more than enough mint material to justify nabbing this compilation should you stumble upon it. Exclusive, unmixed DJ-Kicks cuts? Hells yeah, that’s worth some digital-ca$h.

L.S.G. - Into Deep (Original TC Review)

Superstition: 1999

(2013 Update:
Woot! And finally, I now have a review of every single L.S.G. album on this blog. Except Best Of. And Unreleased. Hm, and that Hooj Choons Collected Works too. Okay, every official LP of L.S.G., and no, Unreleased is still sort-of un-official, at least to me. Give us a proper hard-copy version, Mr. Lieb, and then we'll talk.

I'm probably a little gushy in this review, but dammit, Into Deep just doesn't get the love it deserves. What does it take, huh?)

IN BRIEF: His best.

And then Oliver Lieb peaked.

Oh, I’m sure many out there could point to several different singles across several different aliases that are better than anything on here but in terms of full-length albums, the veteran trance producer has never been better than he was on Into Deep. It seemed, having purged any and all instinctive id with The Black Album, Lieb felt free to explore his meditative ego in this follow-up - it’s the logical musical yin to the previous yang. Or he’d been working on this material alongside the Black Series but never found a proper time and place to release it until after the fact. Who’s to say at this late stage?

Point of the matter is despite the release of Into Deep making artistic sense, it was nonetheless unexpected to hear the L.S.G. moniker taken down this road (though perhaps not nearly as shocking as The Black Album was). This is, after all, the alias of such classic trance cuts like Netherworld, Hearts, and Hidden Sun Of Venus (the trance version). Didn’t Lieb already have an alias for his downtempo stuff? (kinda, but who remembers ‘O.Lieb’?)

The thing that truly was astounding about Into Deep was in how, upon hearing it, folks’ perspective of Lieb changed. He’d garnered plenty of praise for years, yet could never quite shake the stigma of being regarded as “that really good trance producer”. Though many figured he was capable of it, no one really thought he’d actually go and make an album that could be held in the same regard as any of the best efforts from such ‘90s luminaries as The Future Sound Of London, The Orb, or Massive Attack. Yet he did.

For starters, this is one of the few instances you’ll find original lyrics of any sort on an Oliver Lieb album, here provided by one Cybéle de Silveria. Whether it’s to digitally-treated spoken dialog - Spanish for No Causalidad and El Tiburon, and English for Give Me Your Hand - or verses (I’m Not Existing), it adds a fresh angle to the L.S.G. moniker, bringing a proper human element to a project that was already well known for strong emotional music.

And it almost goes without saying, but the emotional punch of this album is of the highest quality. You have tender synthy soundscapes in Jillanity, Into Deep, and Give Me Your Hand; deeply meditative atmospherics in Concatenation, Tiburon Citriño, Quick Star, and I’m Not Existing; and riveting climaxes with El Tiburon, Phorus, and Westside. We’ve heard Lieb strike gold in this field several times, yet seldom with the same level of poignancy as he does here. The whole album ebbs and flows with these moving passages as only the greatest chill releases have. Remarkably, Lieb manages to blend the best of both electronic and organic textures together so they wonderfully complement each other, never compete. In almost all cases, producers have a difficult time accomplishing this, often letting either or overtake in prominence. The closest I’ve heard in recent years that hits this delicate balance comes from the Ultimae camps, but even they have a tendency to let the organic nature of their music take over. Into Deep amazingly stands tall and alone in how it sounds.

All this, and I still haven’t even gotten started on the rhythms. My God, the rhythms! Lieb’s always been excellent in this department but, again, he’d generally been constrained to the techno-trance side of things with tantalizing teases into other beats – breaks in Get Out from Volume Two, for instance, or something experimental like Fontana on Rendezvous In Outer Space and A Day On Our Planet as Spicelab. In producing a purposefully downtempo album, Lieb got to indulge himself with fresh patterns, time signatures, and effects, once again with remarkably stunning results. From steady heartbeat throbs that either pulse (Quick Star) or rumble (Phorus) to layered builds (El Tiburon and the dubbier Bengal Rose), Lieb gives us plenty of wonderful patterns that are just as effective in tapping into the primal recesses of your brain as anything else he’s done.

The two real highlights, though, have to be I’m Not Existing and Westside. The former, having been segued beautifully from the spacey tension-builder that is Quick Star, brings us some of Lieb’s grittiest beats ever, executed with trip-hop proficiency and supported by a disconcerting melody that would have Tricky approvingly bobbing his head along. Meanwhile, Westside, in being the album closer, opts for the pure positive vibe of communal chant, inviting you to clap in unison as the song plays out.

Into Deep is one of those rare albums that tends to occur only once in an artist’s career, if at all; where a musician will tap into the best of their inspiration and execute it with all the experience of a cagey veteran. Though Oliver Lieb successfully carried on, it was never to heights of what was offered here. Even the Best Of album, where he reworked a bunch of L.S.G. singles in the vein of Into Deep, wasn’t quite as good, as it lacked this album’s sublime narrative flow.

Despite bestowing this much praise on Lieb’s masterwork, there’s probably still a number of skeptics out there; after all, Into Deep is seldom namedropped when discussions of Best Electronic Chill Releases are brought up. I honestly don’t have an answer for this. Perhaps the trance association really was too much for folks unfamiliar with Lieb’s work to get over. Whatever the reason though, it’s their loss. Don’t let it be yours too.

Banco de Gaia - Igizeh

Six Degrees Records: 2000

Anyone recall hearing The Prodigy's Fat Of The Land for the first time? The initial anticipation of new music from an act you enjoy, but feeling content in the assumption they couldn't surprise you any longer? Remember how Smack My Bitch Up utterly abolished those preconceived notions? If you're feelin' what I'm preachin' here, my friends, then you'll have an inclining of how I reacted to hearing Seti I on Banco de Gaia's fifth album.

I'm by no means comparing the two tracks, as they're worlds apart (although they do both make use of an ethnic vocalization). In terms of how they kicked off their respective albums, however, and how they represent everything good about the producers behind them, they're quite similar. At first ear-glance, Seti I works a slow-building atmosphere with oodles of nature samples and chants. A stomping rhythm emerges, and a ridiculously catchy vocal hook joins in. For the duration, this tune absolutely gets the blood pumping. I don't think Toby Marks has ever opened another album stronger than Igizeh, yet Seti I is barely known; heck, it didn't even make it to his 10 Years retrospective or other such collections. So, um, I guess the Prodigy comparison ends there.

Since Seti I wasn’t a single from an album that saw at least two, Igizeh must be an astounding album. Eh, it's good, but not that good. It's actually a rather curious one when you consider the context it came out in. As odd as it sounds, the album finds Marks doing a fair bit of bandwagon jumping, yet somehow maintaining his distinctive sound throughout. The first single, Obsidian, appears to borrow quite a bit from progressive trance, with the (barely comprehensible) vocals from Jennifer Folker lending it further to something far more commercial than you'd ever expect from Banco de Gaia (until You Are Here anyway). One could say the same about the new version of Glove Puppet, a dead-ringer and mint take on trip-hop. Meanwhile, second-single How Much Reality Can You Take has elements of big beat, a notion not gone unnoticed by Jack Dangers when he remixed the tune.

Those were the popular genres of the time (or from a couple years back anyway), but Igizeh features further musical adoption than that. Fake It Till You Make It finds Marks and company going about as full-on Pink Floyd as they ever did back in those days. Gizeh adds Moog funk to their characteristic grand musical builds (Egyptian slave revolutions never sounded so epic!). And B2 sounds like, well, Banco de Gaia did during the early ambient dub days, but with a fresh year-2000 sheen.

So in a roundabout way, Igizeh might have ended up being Banco's most accessible album, but those proggy world-beat attributes didn't quite make it so. The style Marks' project cultivates keeps this firmly on the underground side of music, though as far as 'electronica' albums go, it's remarkably diverse. A bit like that Prodigy album, come to think of it.

Various - Human Traffic

FFRR: 1999

Movies properly capturing club culture are rare and often crap, but Human Traffic’s one of the few that got it close. Sure, it's a comedy, exaggerating all the highs and lows associated with “clubs, drugs, pubs, and parties”, and it only highlights one aspect of a global phenomenon – specifically the UK in the late '90s. Still, I can't think of another country that had as much sway within dance music as the Brits did at the turn of the century, what with so many self-important DJs, clubbing brands, and magazines exporting their narrative across the world. Even in the hinterlands of Canada, we were lapping it up. Groove may have been more realistic in the parties we actually went to, but we yearned to be a part of the Human Traffic ones.

Funnily enough, us far-flung Northwest Coasters almost never learned of the movie's existence. Quite by chance, I’d stumbled upon the soundtrack in a local shop, a double-disc of music featuring names and tunes I was familiar with. Upon realizing there was a whole picture associated with it, I special ordered the DVD to sate my curiosity over what sort of movie could have such mint music. It fast turned into a hit within my party crew, getting umpteen repeated plays almost every weekend as we showed it off to any and all (almost always while stoned). For most of 2001 (yes, we were really that late to the Human Traffic revelry), we would not stop quoting the damn thing, and I somehow suspect similar occurrences went down in other areas to the world who dug the flick.

But enough about the movie, how's the soundtrack? Pretty darn good, I'd say, though like its cinema counterpart, very much a product of its time. Almost all the big producers and genres of the late '90s are accounted for, plus nods to classic tracks of clubbing yore are included too. Interspersed throughout the discs are clips of dialogue from the movie itself (like I said, damn quotable!), often leading into music associated with those scenes (Orbital's Belfast after the Comedown Sermon, for instance; or William Orbit's Ogive after What Was I Talking About?).

The two-discs also separate the music between a DJ mix (handled by Pete Tong) for CD2 and a 'miscellaneous' CD1. For my money, the mix disc is most fun, running from garagey house through trance and finishing hard with techno – a proper clubbing disc. The first one features mostly broken beat music (trip hop, gangsta rap, downtempo, breaks, etc.) with a few ambient pieces added; in other words, where all the music that couldn't fit on the DJ mix ended up.

Whether fresh-faced ravers will find much of interest in Human Traffic, I'm not sure, as there's almost an entire generational gap from when this came out. On the other hand, there's yet to be another movie celebrating dance music hedonism as entertainingly as this one did, retaining a timeless quality to it. Nice one, bruv.

Gorillaz - Demon Days

Parlaphone: 2005

It could have simply ended with the first album. Albarn and Hewitt had made their 'anti-pop' pop statement, had their fun. But, pondered ol' Damon, what if they could do it again, only better? Could a cartoon band be just as popular a second time? After all, that Prozzak duo utterly failed to recapture the 'glory' they achieved. Surely the Gorillaz couldn't succeed where others had failed, especially when their music was generally so esoteric.

Yet, something happened to the group that was absolutely brilliant in hindsight, something that seldom happens to cartoon characters, if at all. They aged. And with age came a growing history of their world, most of which could only be gleaned from online content or music videos. The Gorillaz were developing continuity, and for music geeks who were already intrigued by their quirky sounds and designs, this was like catnip. There were ongoing changes with this band (or phases, as it's come to be known), and if you wanted to keep up to date on all the going-ons of their world, you'd have to pay attention to all the little details that'd be sprinkled forth. How could any fan resist this ongoing story, especially considering the oddball setup that was presented in the first album?

So Noodles became a teenager (a super-soldier experiment one at that!), Murdoch turned more demonic (what's up with that?), Russell’s morose after losing his ghosts (no, Del!), and 2D... well, he's kinda the same. The plan worked, and by establishing the story of how Noodles wrote the majority of Demon Days, it gave Albarn an opportunity at a proper concept album, or at least one that was far more unified in tone than the previous Gorillaz effort.

Guiding the whole enterprise was Danger Mouse, his popularity on the rise following The Grey Album. Emulating Dan The Automator’s eclectic sound from Gorillaz could never be easy, so it’s just as well that the Mouse scales back the genre jumping. There’s still plenty of it – tracks ten through fourteen runs the gamut of grime, dance punk, folk (!), and piano-pop that would make even Brian Wilson weak in the knees – but in maintaining a lo-fi, dubby Casio aesthetic to the proceedings, Demon Days is a far more consistent listen than the first album. No matter how weird things may get, you seldom feel the need to skip anything, as it all plays into the Gorillaz’ bizarre anything-goes style. Only a cartoon band could get away with such catchy anthems like Dirty Harry that features a child’s choir.

Oh yeah, there be anthems here. Feel Good Inc. and DARE were the big ones, but O Green World and All Alone are awesome examples too - no mere filler here, my friends. Plus melancholy moments like El Mañana and Every Planet We Reach Is Dead round things out. Demon Days is a great album, all said. Only quibble is none of the guest rappers top Del’s work, but then few could anyway.

Kruder & Dorfmeister - G-Stoned (Original TC Review)

Quango Records: 1993/1995

(2013 Update:
Dear Lord, how did I go through a downtempo review without bringing up the acid jazz influences as well? Ah right, I still wasn't exactly sure what acid jazz properly sounded like, even as late as 2006. Come to think of it, does anyone? Beyond what was released on the Acid Jazz label, that is.

Not much else to add to this EP. I did clean up the paragraph layouts from its original version though, as this was written during my track-by-track years, and so many tiny paragraphs were unsightly for such a short review as this.)


IN BRIEF: More than remixers.

Considering just how big a profile Kruder & Dorfmeister have amassed over the years, it can come as a surprise that their discography as a duo is rather small. Plenty of remixes, for sure, but when it comes to original material, the selection is limited. However, like other acts with huge profiles but few releases (eg: Leftfield), what does get released is usually quality.

Even in the beginning, Kruder & Dorfmeister pulled no punches in their objectives. This debut mini-album, released to kick off their G-Stone label, had all the head-nodders of the mid-90s abuzz, intrigued by the prospect of a smoother, jazzier alternative to Ninja Tune’s trip-hop eclecticism. Small surprise downtempo label Quango felt it was a good idea to pad out their early catalogue with K&D’s sound. G-Stoned may not have been the most unique EP, but it certainly had a maturity present that was more-or-less lacking in much of electronic music.

The first track, Definition, is about as loungey as lounge gets. The rhythms are laid back, gentle keyboards and xylophones fill out a smokey ambience, and a flute improvises along the way. Revolutionary? Hardly, but still a nice bit of downtempo vibe. Deep Shit moves us into, well, deeper territory. The mood is far more dubby as trip-hop beats and echoy trumpets noodle about. Some tribal chants penetrate the murk at times, but aren’t interested in leading. This track’s about pure atmosphere, and little else. Wonderfully chill, though.

Combining the mood of Deep Shit with the pace of Definition is High Noon. Probably the most prominent feature here is a little harmonica playing mid-way through. Although it doesn’t take you out of the lounges, it does briefly lend a bit of country feel to the track. And to take us out is Original Bedroom Rockers. As the slowest groover out of a mini-album of slow jams, the easy-going, cool-sexy vibes and samples are definitely fit for sensual delights; dubby vibraphone pulses throughout the track wrap you up like a tender embrace. Most smooth indeed.

As nice as these tracks are though, I do have a complaint about this release in general: it’s over too fast! Yes, yes, I know G-Stoned isn’t meant to be a full album, but, man, does it ever leave you wishing for it to keep going.

With that in mind, this release probably isn’t the best starting point for folks just getting acquainted with Kruder & Dorfmeister’s material; their remix album The K&D Sessions™ is the one in that category. However, if you are a casual fan looking for something more to tide you over until the duo make another full studio release together (if ever), this will suite you fine. Since the market price for G-Stoned is nice and cheap, it’s a safe purchase either way.

Various - Frosty

Waveform Records: 1996

For many of my teenage years, I hadn't a clue what acid jazz exactly was, nor was I alone in my befuddlement. None of my peers knew either, though not much of surprise as I was the only chap among the 'Rupert Ravers' that even had much of an inclining towards the downtempo side of electronic music – at least enough to dig beyond the obvious names. I'd heard a little acid jazz before, but without knowing that's what it was, much less interested in exploring further. Just the name itself seemed so esoteric, a form of music that only old, mature ravers could get into. I'll grant that's partially true, but minor generational gaps didn't stop me from checking out old, respected ambient artists.

So when I saw a promotional blurb for a new Waveform compilation called Frosty, promising such trendy buzz words as 'acid jazz' and 'shadow jazz?' (yes, they had a question mark), I knew I'd get a crash course in the sound whether I liked it or not. The label was the first independent one I put blind devotion into, picking up all and everything I could, but for an imprint primarily peddling ambient dub and world beats, this was something different. Though I had faith in their musical output, I wasn't sure I was prepared for such a change of direction.

Truth is, acid jazz is a ridiculously broad style of music, running the gamut of brisk, uptempo dance-fusion work to, well, this compilation. This is about as chilled out the genre can get without becoming something else entirely, and I can see why some of the PR folks back then wondered if they could get away with calling it 'shadow jazz'. It has that Ninja Tune-like vibe going for it, with beats and melodies quite laid back, at times even dipping toes into dub and trip-hop’s pool. The cover may have an ice-encrusted buffalo, but the music paints more of a relaxing late-afternoon summer lounging on a patio with a spliff and lemonade.

A couple of prominent names appear with Howie B and A Man Called Adam, but the real standouts come from relative unknowns, supplied from the short-lived UK label 2 Kool. James Bong and The Thirteenth Sign provide tunes more on a ‘balearic trip-hop’ bent (yes, I know that’s daft), whereas Mr. Electric Triangle, Hunch, and Jaziac Sunflowers (that Moog!) lean more proper acid jazz. Round things out with quirky contributions from Beach Flea (alias of Man Called Adam; twelve minutes of downbeat haze) and The Egg (no, not The Egg; different group), and all arranged with a strong flow, and you have another winner in Waveform’s catalogue.

Back in the day, I could tell this was a strong compilation, yet I hadn’t a clue what to make of it. Thrown on at a house party or shared on headphones, none of my peers could either. We all agreed, however, it was class, worth the repeated plays. Perhaps that was all we needed.

Mujaji - Free Rain

Shadow Records: 2001

Though a sub-label of Instinct, Shadow Records was regarded on par with such luminary downtempo labels like Ninja Tune (probably didn't hurt they handled the UK imprint's US distribution in the mid-'90s.) As time wore on, Shadow's manifesto turned towards giving relatively unknown producers a chance to shine, whether in their various Sessions compilations, or proper LP form. Somehow, Shadow also kept the cost of their CDs low, making them incredibly tempting purchases for those with limited income *cough*. Sadly, when Instinct was bought out in the mid-'00s, so too was Shadow, and thus ended one of the more eclectic labels to ever operate on American soil.

The label history out of the way, let’s now talk Mujaji. Um... that’s a little tricky. Lord Discogs has almost no info, while their own website’s biography tells a tale of interplanetary travelers, bringing about musical manifestations to Earth, and eventually leaving because “their home world was invaded and taken over by Reptilians from the Andromeda Galaxy.” Da’fuq? Best I can glean from that is the brothers Shmack (I’m assuming they’re siblings, but they may be cousins) disbanded after a while. Before then, they bounced around after their Shadow Records debut, going from Bastard Jazz Records, Setanta Records, and Nomadic Music, releasing a couple more albums during those years. Why aren’t they on Discogs? The Lord hath failed me there.

Anyhow, Free Rain came out when Shadow Records was signing several up and comers, and as such Mujaji got lost in the shuffle of other acts like Saru, Illform, and Goo. And yes, it’s perfectly fine if you haven’t heard of these names - like I said, Shadow was all about exposing unknowns. Unfortunately, unless you’re a dedicated label hound, it makes it difficult to choose which albums to pick up, even if on a whim. I truthfully don’t even remember why I got Free Rain. I’m glad I did though, as it’s a fun album.

Mujaji hit an interesting mix of gritty trip-hop beats, funky downtempo hooks, and quirky scratches and sampling. For the most part their tunes are light-hearted and fun, but occasional somber moments crop up too, sometimes within the same track. They’re also quite different from each other and rather difficult to summarize, so here’s a quick rundown of a few standouts:

Free The Rich - great beats coupled with a lovely flute hook and ambience that sounds like a machine breathing.
Work For Us - a sample of maybe an industrial site elevator manipulated into the rhythm.
Italian Waffle - country guitars, Far East dialog, flutes, and... a digital harmonica?
The Fork - funky guitar licks, while the rhythm’s trying to be d’n’b, but Mujaji ain’t lettin’ it. Oh... oh... There it is!

And there’s more, but I’ll let you discover them if you’re so inclined. I’ll grant Free Rain may not be your cup of chamomile if you’re not into the quirky side of trip-hop, but it’s an album that’s charming enough to warrant a listen.

The Irresistible Force - Fish Dances (Original TC Review)

Ninja Tune: 1999

(2013 Update:
I feel like an idiot for not realizing this at the time, but Mixmaster Morris had done a remix of Coldcut's classic Autumn Leaves way back, which became something of a classic in itself. Well no wonder Ninja Tune invited him over to join their roster after the Force left Rising High. There's also some ropey info in this old review regarding the state of chill rooms. While it's true most of them had died out at regular parties, they've persisted in the psy scene, where Morris still occasionally plays out in. Erm, yeah, I've no excuse for that oversight on my part.

I should also mention there are two versions of Fish Dances out there, the other having an additional two remixes from Fila Brazilia and DJ Food. Just my luck I'd end up with the short one.)


IN BRIEF: A final dance from the Force.

Changing trends can be cruel. Mixmaster Morris, once a fixture in the chill scene, seems all but forgotten now. How could an individual whose star was as bright as The Orb’s disappear from the public eye? As with all things in musicdom, the answer is a change of tastes.

Morris’ brand of mellow, trippy ambience was a lovely soundtrack to many a backroom when rave parties were mostly an underground vibe; it wouldn’t be uncommon to see hippies and candy kids lounging together as the lengthy Force track Flying High pleasantly noodled out of speakers. Once club culture invaded the chill rooms though, most of Morris’ fans were shooed away. And when Moby’s Play blasted all traces of druggy connotations out of chill rooms with its bankable MOR tones, the old ambient masters’ fates were sealed: downtempo music was no longer the refuge for ravers, but rather their mothers.

Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. We mustn’t forget the influence Ninja Tune’s brand of trip-hop was having on folks. While they wouldn’t see the kind of commercial success reserved for Moby and co., their critical praise continued undaunted while psychedelic styles were regarded as old-hat.

Perhaps this is why Morris ended up on the label. On Ninja Tune, he could continue to produce his kind of music without either selling himself out or being lost in the backwaters of tiny labels still making lovely mushroom music. It may not have worked out as intended though, as Morris’ music was too psychedelic for even the open-minded Ninja Tune faithful, whom prefer their reefer above all else. The album It’s Tomorrow Already was the last produced with the Irresistible Force alias, and Morris has scarcely been heard from since. Does this mean the material on that release was bad? Oh hell no. As is evidenced by this final single Fish Dances, the Irresistible one was in as fine of form as ever.

The two cuts produced by Morris himself - the remix of Power and an instrumental of the titular track - contain all his trademark tricks in abundance: dreamy melodies; trippy atmospherics; bubbly drumming; floaty vibes; and, as always, a strict adherence to loose music. This last attribute has often caused Morris to lose potential listeners; for those who enjoy structured music with definite hooks, his free-for-all approach can leave many confused despite the lovely textures heard. And, as is usually the case with such music, it can go on for tedious amounts of time with go-nowhere sections. Fortunately, these two cuts show enough restraint so you don’t tire of anything looping on you.

An eclectic assortment of producers are on hand to lend their talents in remixing tracks from the album as well. Nepalese Bliss, the other single from It’s Tomorrow Already, gets a dubby trip-hop work-over from Jimpster; his blend of jazzy vibes with Morris’ floaty melodies are a wonderful combination. Meanwhile, Frédéric Galliano treats Fish Dances to a brisk acid jazz workout on the percussion end before bringing in the original’s dreamy synths to end out on a smooth bit of chill. Positively delish’.

The remixes by Voda (on Playing Around With Sound) and Plaid makes for an interesting contrast to the rest of this single’s material. Paranoia drips from Voda’s go, with eerie, choking sound effects and skittery spoken dialogue that is rendered nearly unintelligible; all the while, grimy trip-hop rhythms clump along. But if Voda’s remix is paranoid, then Plaid’s remix is downright schizophrenic: it starts with similar eerie effects while anxious melodies flow in the background. Eventually though, it settles into an easy electro rhythm before ending off in a pleasant, light-hearted tone.

It’s a shame Morris never had a chance to continue working with Ninja Tune, as his style does bring an already strong label added depth in the blissy chill categories. However, ‘twas not to be, and the Irresistible one’s output has been scarce since (you can find fresh material online though, should you be interested). All in all, if you’ve never cared for Morris’ early material, then perhaps this single will offer you a chance to reconsider. You still have vintage Irresistible Force tracks here, but the variety and skill of the remixes adds to Fish Dances’ worthiness if you’re in the market for non-MOR chill.

The Dust Brothers - Fight Club

Restless Records: 1999

Fight Club was an incredibly bold movie at the time, highly divisive in what audiences got out of it. Still, whether you agreed with its Gen-X rebellion manifesto or not, you couldn't deny its tight scripting and strong acting – not to mention such a shocking twist as *spoiler* Meat Loaf dying. Another positive consensus was a thumbs-up for the soundtrack, produced by studio wizards The Dust Brothers.

Simpson and King had quite the esteemed discography by the end of the '90s: Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique, Beck's Odelay, countless remixes and one-offs, plus some boy-band thing. Having accomplished so much in the field of regular ol' music, the duo must have been itching to stretch their creativity elsewhere. Enter David Fincher, a long time admirer of their work and in need of someone to score his new, edgy movie.

Regardless of fanboyism, The Dust Brothers were an excellent choice, being something of a staple of ‘90s music one way or the other. If the movie was to deconstruct that decade’s idealism, why not have the duo responsible for some of the all time classics of the era contribute as well? Plus, having an original score of electronic music was just the hip thing to do by that point. So sayeth The Lola, anyway.

Fight Club being a dark comedy and paranoid thriller (not to mention spiffy special effects showcase, like at the end when *spoiler* all the bombs go off) most of the music reflects that tone. Though a few light-hearted bits crop up (the Casio-samba of Corporate World, for instance), dark brooding passages make up the bulk of the tracks. Occasionally dusty trip-hop beats and psychedelic rock sampling break up the monotony, but for the most part we’re dealing with total score stuff.

Still, the movie had its share of pulse-pounding moments, and The Dust Brothers come correct on this front when called upon. Finding The Bomb doesn’t hold back on ramping the tension up as it plays out, while Stealing Fat has all the hallmarks of a mad capper going down. Incidentally, that track’s also where the kick-ass opening credit music lurks, which handily points out one of the unique things about this soundtrack.

Most original score albums will sequence the music as it was featured in the film, as a means of emulating the movie’s narrative. Not so with Fight Club. Bits are lumped together under titles that have little context to what was going down on screen, and the whole thing plays out more like a proper album of Dust Brothers music than a soundtrack. The duo insists it’s not be taken as such, but if they’re adamant about it, why arrange this CD this way? Label interference?

Whatever the case, Fight Club works exceptionally well as a standalone, but having visual context does add to the experience. Like when it’s revealed at the end of the movie that *spoiler*, those really were Marla’s clothes she was selling!

DJ Shadow - Endtroducing.....

Mo Wax: 1996

Speaking of record buying, here's the album that turned the quirky obsession into art. Not to say sampling obscure music hadn't been done before, but DJ Shadow's debut album Endtroducing..... changed the way many regarded the craft. Producers used to raid whatever they could, either snagging super-catchy hooks from musicians past or creating ultra-dense sound collages. Then laws put a clamp on it, and super-sampling went quiet for a while, a single loop about the only prominent type of sample anyone could afford anymore. DJ Shadow proved you could still create amazing music even within those restrictions.

More than just a classic album of sampling, DJ Shadow got the wider public intrigued by the concept of instrumental, melodic hip-hop. This was around the same time the sub-genre illbient was gaining traction, thanks in large part to DJ Spooky’s work (and yes, it’s perfectly fine if you’ve gotten the two mixed up). Though Mr. Davis’ sound skewed closer to trip-hop, the melancholic overtones of Endtroducing..... made the connection too tempting for journalists to ignore, always eager to start promoting a hot new trend. And hey, some of those hip-hop kids could become interested in ‘electronica’ if he appears on compilations and Amp rotation.

Even more than that, Endtroducing..... sold the romanticism of vinyl digging. Where did ol’ Josh find these records for samples? How did such moving pieces of musical artifacts go unnoticed for so long? The two chaps on the cover, what unique treasures might they be holding? Gee, if I started digging for vinyl, might I unearth something forgotten yet astounding? Damn it, I gotta get to the record shop pronto before some other bloke snags that rare northern soul pressing! I could be the next DJ Shadow!

So in the end, it was a perfect storm of circumstance that propelled Endtroducing..... into classic status. And yes, the music on hand was more than enough to back it up. The opening piano loop in Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt instantly worms its way into your ears, then to have it joined by a smooth hip-hop break, ethereal vocal, and additional niceness (funk guitar lick! scratches! vibraphones?), you realize you’re in for a sonic treat. The elements in play seem so simple, yet form a cohesion that is sublime.

And DJ Shadow pulls it off again and again. The Number Song and Mutual Slump are furious funk jams. Changeling and What Does Your Soul Look Like, Pt. 4 taps into acid jazz’s wells such that it’d make the Ninja Tune squad weak in the knees. Organ Donor gives the ol’ Hammond a proper showcase. Midnight In A Perfect World... you should already know how bliss this cut is. Even the few interludes and skits add to the overall package, welcome respites and teases of the choice tunes on hand.

In the end, Endtroducing..... isn’t so much about raiding the past for personal glory in the present, but about celebrating that which was unduly neglected from before.

Various - DJ-Kicks: Daddy G

Studio !K7: 2004

Listening to a single compilation for over a week certainly spikes the urge to buy more music in the meanwhile (need... something... different!), so I figured it was as good as any time to pick up a few more of those DJ-Kicks mixes I neglected over the years. Good Lord though, if it isn't a difficult decision to choose which ones to check out. So many releases, so much eclecticism.

Actually, this one wasn’t too difficult a choice, still being on a reggae dub kick when perusing though the series. Seeing this one from the Massive Attack member Daddy G was enough to get me intrigued, plus I was also curious to hear how Studio !K7 would follow up their 2003 flirtation with electropunk (or whatever), and ol’ Erlend Øye wasn’t quite as sexy an option as ol’ Grant Marshall.

This came out a year after Massive Attack had released the critical shrug that was 100th Window. Folks may have been initially dismissive of the album, but there was still enough positive publicity in seeing anything released by them at that point that !K7 tapping Daddy G for an edition made good sense. What we’re offered is less of a DJ mix, and rather a “personal favorites mixtape”. Hey, if former Massive Attack member Tricky got to make a Back To Mine CD the year prior, why not?

As can be expected of a chap who practically helped invent what would become known as trip-hop, there’s a nice mix of funk and soul to get us warmed up. Speaking of Tricky, a rare white label “Version1” of Aftermath is included, sounding incredibly grainy and under-produced; somehow, a trip-hop classic like that makes more sense that way. Also making sense is hearing dubplate version of choice reggae tunes like Barrington Levy’s Here I Come and Badmarsh & Shri’s Signs. Not making sense is the inclusion of Foxy Brown’s cover of Oh Yeah of Toots & The Maytals (yep, that’s Bob Marley lurking in there) - why not offer up the original?

There’s also quite a bit of Massive Attack material here, mostly in the form of remixes they did. Included is the one that put the group on the map, Nusrat Fateh Ali-Khan’s Mustt Mustt. World beat was rather trendy in 1990, and this remix does show hints of it, but there’s definitely something cleverer going on with the beat programming compared to typical sample-raiders. Two tracks come as a surprise though: the Mos Def collaboration I Against I, which only appeared on the Blade 2 soundtrack, and the Perfecto Remix of the stone-cold classic Unfinished Sympathy. The former’s rather cool to hear, almost as though Mr. Def used an old, forgotten Gary Numan tune as a sample to rap over. But Oakenfold to close out? I dunno ‘bout that, man. It’s an alright remix, but quite stuck in early ‘90s Balearic mode. Give me grit and grime with this tune instead any day.

Various - Deepwater Black: Inclonation Vol. One (Original TC Review)

Koch Records: 1997

(2012 Update:
This one again? I swear I've given this compilation more attention than anyone else. Or maybe it just feels that way since I've gotten a lot of mileage out of these tunes for one reason or another. Still a recommended CD if you find it super-cheap. And hoo boy, I really did get my geek on with this review, didn't I? No shame.)


IN BRIEF: Obscure tie-in compilation for obscure sci-fi TV show.

Far be it for us to occasionally review unknown EDM releases, but now we’re also covering unknown TV shows too? Hardly, but these Random Reviews do have a tendency to drag along quirky fun-facts from other fields. Here’s what we have in this case.

Deepwater Black - or Mission Genesis in parts American - was a short-lived Canadian-filmed TV series based on a trilogy of books written by New Zealander Ken Catran that aired in the latter half of ‘97. It holds the somewhat dubious distinction of being the first original series produced by the Sci-Fi Channel - ‘dubious’, because Sci-Fi Channel has an unfortunately long history of under-produced, somewhat cheesy original shows. On the other hand, this was at a time when television sci-fi was quite popular, so there probably wasn’t much harm in at least trying it. Just keep the cast small and unknown, the CGI special-effects video-game level (hey, it worked for Babylon 5’s first season, and that show went on to be critically hailed as one of the best sci-fi shows for most of the 90s), and your stories somewhat compelling for sci-fi, and you really couldn’t go wrong.

For what it’s worth, the show did have a strong premise: a sextet of young adults emerge from cryogenic sleep on a starship, discover they are in fact prematurely awakened clones designed to repopulate a decimated human population, and thus head back to Earth to do so, getting into adventures along the way. To the show’s benefit, the writers of the series decided to go the ‘bleak sci-fi’ style, which resulted in some fairly grim stories - when your backstory involves a virus wiping out the human race, how could you not? Oh, and irresistibly-cute Nicole de Boer was one of the leads (her pre-Deep Space 9 role - god, am I ever getting my geek on here…); even if the show was utterly lame, I could watch her any day!

Fortunately, Deepwater Black wasn’t lame, though it was obviously produced on the cheap and didn’t last long. Plus, it was just a little too youth focused. Mind, it’s understandable that it would be, as Canadian network YTV (no, I won’t tell you what that stands for - it’s really, really obvious) was a co-producer of the show, but that did effectively limit the potential audience since most teenaged sci-fi fans would have probably been more dedicated to shows like Trek, B5, or Xena anyway. Still, 13 episodes aired, and it’s retained cult status for the curious, at least at a level of any second-tier anime series.

Oh, and they also released a CD in conjunction with the show.

Actually, it was this CD that even clued me into Deepwater Black, as I saw it floating about in the racks at the music shop I worked for at the time. Naturally, my, er, ‘raver curiosity’ was intrigued by the tracklist. My manager seemed to be the opposite: “Oh yeah, that’s that show that has those kids with the funny hair,” he mentioned (huh?). I had no idea what he was talking about, especially so since Deepwater Black had been cancelled for a year by then, but any show that featured as varied names as The Prodigy, Delerium, Jonny L, and Gary Numan couldn’t be all bad, could it?

That’s the quirky thing about this CD though: aside from the Fred Mollin-penned theme song (Inclonation), none of these songs were ever in the series. Rather, and I quote from the liner notes: “These tracks do not necessarily appear in the Deepwater Black series, but do represent part of the producers’ dwb psyche.” Like, how, exactly? They were listening to these tracks while writing and filming the show? They just took the opportunity to make a kind of mixtape for fans of the show? Yet another excuse to milk an ‘electronica’ compilation (this was, after all, 1997)?

Still, even if you were to go with the cynical option, this is a surprisingly varied CD that manages to retain a decent spacey theme. The only track I’d really pin down as being an ‘electronica’ compilation cliché is Emperion’s Narcotic Influence; and maybe Delerium’s Euphoria (that one was getting all the promotional buzz on the heels of the album Karma), but the rest do manage to stand out from your standard ’97 ‘electronica’ glut. For instance, of all the Prodigy tracks to choose from, The Heat? Really? That’s… unexpected. Then you get spaced-out drum’n’bass from Jonny L’s Treading, Underworld cool-groove from Moonshine big-beat heroes Cirrus, the earliest of early productions from broken-beat producer Moonstarr (tripped-out acid jazz in Imperial Starr Cruiser’s case), underground hip-hop from Toronto act Mood Ruff… essentially a lot of psychedelic break-beats and chilled-out trip-hop to be had here. Then finally, of course, Gary Numan’s Metal - the original thirty-year old version. Talk about your musical swerves.

The association this CD has with Deepwater Black is fleeting at best (space-themed show - space-themed music?), but it’s a fine EDM compilation in its own right. Varied yet consistent, familiar tunes rubbing shoulders with overlooked gems, plus a sense that whoever did gather up these tracks, it was for a love of the music itself rather than trying to cash-grab with obvious hits. Granted, it’s yet another one of those releases that you won’t miss if you don’t pick it up (on the cheap, of course), yet nor will you be disappointed should you decide to check it out anyway.

Much like Deepwater Black itself, really.