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.

Thievery Corporation - The Mirror Conspiracy

4AD: 2000

Not to sound too up my own ass, but I was always a little smug around my peers in discovering Thievery Corporation before most of them. I shouldn’t be that smug, since I only found out about the Washington downtempo duo when 4AD, of all labels, redistributed their classic Sound From The Thievery Hi-Fi two years after it’d already come out on Thiev-Corp’s own Eighteenth Street Lounge Music. Dammit though, I was the first in my circle to find it, and it wasn’t until their sophomore album, The Mirror Conspiracy, that the duo broke out from underground-darling status with chill-out crossover potential. And for that, I… kinda lost the plot with them.

Not that I blame Garza and Hilton for refining the dubby, hip-hop groove they made for themselves - adopting Latin and jazz elements into a genre already filled with Jamaican and urban influences was a fine idea. They certainly proved capable of pulling it off, with tunes like Lebanese Blonde and So Come Voce getting tons of rotation on every loungey chill-out compilation that mattered (and then some).

The Mirror Conspiracy isn’t just some nifty bossa nova for smoky basements though, as oodles of ethnically diverse music finds its way throughout the album. Indra gets its bhangra on at points, plenty of Arabic nods crops up (Illumination, ), the Hong Kong Triad sounds like it could have fit snuggly in a ‘60s mod movie, and even that Afro-Brazillian percussion style batacuda gets its nod in Air Batacuda …hehe, ‘batucada’. Nearly every track features some unique stylistic origin while always maintaining a distinct dubbed-out cool vibe that’s wholly the Thievery Corporation’s. It’s just a shame so many of them are too damned short.

Perhaps I was spoiled by the lengthier tunes on their first album, but longer running time would make the songs on The Mirror Conspiracy so much more immersive. I want to get lost in Samba Tranquille’s blissy shuffle for longer than three minutes. I want to forever float on rivers of funky dub with Tomorrow. And what the Hell, Bebel Gilberto doesn’t even get three minutes at providing a soulful croon in So Com Voce? A few cuts do offer reasonable length – tribal Illumination, jazzy Focus On Sight clock in over four minutes, and Indra gets a whopping five-plus to strut her stuff (whoa, what is this, prog?). Considering, at thirteen tracks, the The Mirror Conspiracy runs well less of an hour, there wasn’t any reason for Garza and Hilton to indulge themselves a little - unless these were intended as radio-friendly versions, trotted out for easy licensing. Given how many songs did end up on compilations and chill-out mixes, maybe so.

I won’t go so far as to call Thiev-Corp’s newer style ‘pop’, but it is far more accessible for mass audiences compared to many other downtempo artists of similar ilk. Fair enough if that’s their goal (and judging by their follow-up albums, it was), but it wasn’t for me. Solid live shows though!

Banco de Gaia - Memories Dreams Reflections (2014 Update)

Disco Gecko: 2009

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

I promise this is the last Banco de Gaia for a good long while. Pinky-swearsie, I do! Well, until that 20th anniversary edition of Maya arrives in the mail. Or Mr. Marks happens to release another album with a title falling within my alphabetical stipulation. Beyond that though, it’ll be a long time, for sure a very long time.

What wasn't so long ago was the release of Memories Dreams Reflections; at least, it doesn't feel that long ago. Four-point-five years though, that's practically a lifetime in raver years. Heck, most give up on 'the scene' in that amount of time. I sure didn't, but then, coming of age in the hinterlands of Canada didn't provide much opportunity for the quick, burn-out turnaround many go through. Actual parties were few and far between, whereas the big cities often got away with one every weekend. By the time I got to a big city with such a scene (Vancouver), it was on the downswing, most of the old-schoolers having moved on or found new homes in the ‘classier’ club scene (woo, legal alcohol!). In re-branding raves as ‘music festivals’, we’re seeing the upswing of a new generation , but if the typical reveler lifespan holds true, the first wave of burn-outs will start in short order, if not already.

What of the hold-outs, though? What keeps us going to these events, listening to this music? I’ve often asked myself this, and the answer always comes back to the search for that ‘perfect’ party. Sometimes it’s a desire to re-capture something from one’s youth, other times it’s a hope to experience it just once, but in the end, there’s long been a romanticism associated with losing oneself to the all-night dance. A proper refuge for the ostracized of society, a rebellion against mainstream conformity, escapism – it’s why electronic music always retreats back to the underground after flirtations with commercial success, as the very concept of the culture is directly counter to what society deems proper behavior (work your job, raise your family, watch your TV, etc.). Those who still partake in this scene often find a way of balancing the two, either making club culture their primary job (DJs, musicians, promoters), or only going to select events they feel will come as close to being their idea of a ‘perfect’ party as any; for yours truly, I’m definitely of the latter sort.

I suppose, on some sub-conscious level, that’s why I’ve been systematically going through all the music I’ve gathered: an attempt at piecing together my time involved with electronic music’s ever-evolving scene. What’s lead me down the musical paths I’ve taken? Why do I find some genres more favorable than others? Could things have been different if I’d been exposed to different parties and music? Why didn’t other counter-culture music, like punk or metal, appeal in a similar fashion?

Yeah, sorry there’s nothing ‘updated’ in this post. Guess I took the whole Memories Dreams Reflections concept to heart this time.

Enigma - MCMXC a.D.

Virgin: 1990/1999

While purists may balk at the idea of Enigma's debut being one of the most important electronic albums ever, it's hard to deny its lasting influence on various scenes. An immediate hit with both mainstream New Age types and underground S&M sorts, it kicked off an insane amount of copycats, figuring lumping any ol' chant with a bare-bone electronic rhythm would produce similar chart success. A few did in the ensuing years, but none to the degree that Michael Cretu accomplished with MCMXC a.D.

The album’s appeal truly was a case of everything falling into the right place at the right time. For one, New Age was sweeping middle-America, so anything with soothing, meditative pads had a good chance of gaining some crossover interest. Second, with eroticism sweeping middle-America thanks to movies like 9½ Weeks, folks were far more accepting of risqué concepts like Sadeness, Mea Cupla, and Principles Of Lust. Hell, a title like Sadeness should have turned heads alone, and here it was tearing up the charts while couples tore off their clothes as seductive French voices and ethnic woodwinds played out (mind, confusion over the title likely helped divert controversy). Key to its timelessness, however, are the Gregorian chants, as few things suggest chaste traditions as readily as Catholicism. The incredibly taboo combination of seduction and piety made these tunes hits with fetishists, soundtracking many a sex club ...if Single White Female is accurate, anyway. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before every Skinemax flick starring Shannon Tweed was style-biting Enigma’s sound, rendering it cliche; thus its small surprise Mr. Cretu mostly abandoned the eroticism by his second album.

As for the rest of MCMXC a.D., the other single off here was The Rivers Of Belief, which retains most of the elements of Sadeness, though opts for New Age platitudes instead. As a closer that bookends the album, it works, but likely due to Cretu’s singing, it’s not as fondly remembered as the other hits off here. Knocking On Forbidden Doors is a surprising little gem of an instrumental though, kind of a b-side to Mea Culpa and getting downright trance at times. Not sure what The Voice & The Snake was about, besides being the oddest interlude in Enigma’s discography. The sun turned cold? What is this, the apocalypse?

When the album was re-issued in 1999, it came bundled with a bonus EP containing the original remixes of Sadeness and Mea Culpa, none of which are terribly interesting. Fading Shades Mix of Mea Culpa mashes the latter’s vocals onto Rivers Of Belief, and that’s about as all worth checking out if you’re curious.

Whatever preconceived notions you might have regarding Enigma’s general career (*cough*cheesyworldbeatNewAgebollocks*cough*), it shouldn’t deter you from checking out MCMXC a.D.. You’ve likely heard the music over the years, and will likely hear it again. Despite often being imitated, Enigma’s debut remains as unique and timeless as the day it came out. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if Sadeness still plays in S&M dungeons. Can anyone confirm this?

Banco de Gaia - Maya (Original TC Review)

Mammoth Records: 1994

(2014 Update:
Bleagh, another super-duper long review from the year 2006. My God, how many of these did I write? True, it was the first proper opportunity I got at splurging my Banco de Gaia knowledge for TranceCritic, but given how many Banco albums I've gone over for this blog now (8 albums and 2 singles!), the opening few paragraphs are incredibly redundant.

What will make this review even more redundant is the fact a limited 20th Anniversary edition of Maya's due to come out this week. Which I've obviously gone and ordered for myself. This isn't as fanboyish as it seems, since it's a triple-disc set (!!) full of unreleased remixes and live takes, plus my original copy of Maya had a digital defect on the final track anyway. At least with this old review up, I don't have to talk about the main album details. I mean, with how much I wrote here, what else is left to say?)


IN BRIEF: Early music from the World Bank.

[The opening paragraph contained unnecessary information, so I've removed it]

Of course, my enjoyment of Banco de Gaia shouldn’t be any secret to steady readers of TranceCritic. I’ve continuously name-dropped him all over the place, and for good reason: Marks’ music has had a significant influence on my tastes over the years. From the very moment I heard Shanti some dozen years ago (a different version, mind, not the one here), I was hooked for life. All those whom I exposed Banco tracks to often came to my same conclusion: the music from the World Bank was entirely in a class of its own, impossible to pigeonhole, and always captivating.

Ah yes, I can see your ‘Fanboy Warning’ alarms already flashing. Perhaps this is why I’ve held off covering any Banco releases for so long. Although we’ll never try to hide the fact any review of music will have some subjectivity, we still try to maintain an element of objectivity as far as our conscience allows. While I’d love to give Maya glowing praise for being a Banco release, the music critic in me can hear the faults and inconsistencies; if we’re to maintain our credibility, I’m going to have to point these out. But before I do that, a brief history leading up to this album (don’t worry, it’s relevant).

Before Maya, Marks was getting known through his association with the Megadog syndicate, often touring along with the likes of Eat Static. He did release a few cassette albums during those years but none could see official distribution due to many uncleared samples. However, this didn’t stop the Banco project from getting tapped for songs to be featured on Beyond’s seminal Ambient Dub series, where Marks’ profile grew exponentially. A full-length was inevitable and, in 1994, it came to pass.

But which audience was Marks to aim for? The Megadog partiers? The fans of his Ambient Dub contributions? Or should he shoot for a broader audience with the larger distribution now available? Maya has a feeling about it that seems Marks was attempting to please all parties involved. As is often the case in this situation, the end result can feel a bit disjointed and uncertain.

Opening track Heliopolis is as indicative of this as any. True, the sweeping vocal samples and exotic atmosphere is definitely a Banco trademark, but everything else comes off flat. The rhythm doesn’t have enough drive to it, and the squelchy arpeggiating synth sounds under-produced for a track where other attributes shine.

Mafich Arabi, one of the few tape-only tracks to be rescued, also has some problems, but at least the rhythm makes up for it in this case. Pretty much a straight-forward funky tribal stompfest, an assortment of drum loops beat away as chants and Middle-Eastern hooks accompany them. The chants are wonderful, easily lodging in your head so you can’t help but join in. The hooks, though, are a bit suspect. I don’t mind them, but if Middle-Eastern melodies aren’t your game, even an infectious rhythm and chant may have trouble drawing you in for the duration.

The dubby, groovy Sunspot is a pleasant diversion, but the violin solo in the middle may be a turnoff, as it sounds like it was thrown in just for the fun of it (really, Marks is good for one of these moments in every album). However, I can find no fault in Gamelah’s approach to trance. It isn’t a high-tempo song, but it doesn’t need to be. The tribal rhythms are brisk enough to groove to, and the combination of chants and spacey, sweeping synths is an effective pairing. Definitely one for the outdoor gatherings.

Still, the ambient dub material was where Banco garnered a large chunk of fans at this point, so Marks treats them to a mellow, dubbed-out bit of bliss with Qurna. Synthy pad washes, tranquil grooves, seaside sound effects, and warm melodies all come together to form a sonic treat for you to lie back to.

The final stretch mostly contains tracks from the Beyond compilations... after a fashion: Lai Lah and Shanti were both remixed for Maya.

Sheesha comes first though. I’ve never been able to grasp what Marks was shooting for in this track. The intro of it shows promise, as many layers of deep, dubby sound effects, samples, and burbly electronics are gradually added. Once the rhythm kicks in though, the plot seems lost. Nothing quite melds together like you’d think it could, and Sheesha ends up wandering aimlessly despite the strengths of the individual components.

Lai Lah, on the other hand, works brilliantly despite all the elements sounding a bit chaotic. Chalk it up to a great rhythm (probably the best on here) and some crafty sample work. A breakdown allows just the strumming samples to play with a recording of a couple’s argument underneath. As this goes on, a mournful synth melody gradually grows in prominence, finally capping off at the end of the argument before being thrust right back into the rhythm. Now that’s a unique breakdown and build!

What Marks does with Shanti may be hit or miss with listeners, as he takes the track into a kind of jam-band excursion. Each element - bassline, rhythms, vocal chants, dubby keyboards, warm pads - gets a chance to play on their own before segueing into the next while white-noise effects pulse in the background. I can see this not being all that interesting if you like your songs focused and compact, but I quite like this. Besides, as far as dubby noodling goes, this is still a relatively coherent go at it. And when the pads do make their appearance towards the end of the Shanti? Yeah... magic.

Finally we end on Maya, a collaboration with Andy Guthrie. Here, Marks gets to show off some of his prog-rock influences as he breaks out the guitar while twinkly bells and all the usual exotic soundscapes fill in the atmosphere. For what it is, this is a decent enough track, and probably one of the more unique ones in this early stage of the Banco life; it’s certainly closer in sound to current offerings than most of what’s been heard on this album.

And that’s probably something to keep in mind should you be new to Maya (the album, that is... damn, but is it ever annoying having title tracks at the end sometimes). If you got into Banco de Gaia after Marks made the project into a fully fleshed-out band, the tracks on offer here seem very simple in comparison - which, truthfully, they are. For the most part, you can hear Marks still playing by dance music’s rules, and it would be another couple years before his song-writing would find the confidence to do things his own way.

Despite this shortcoming, there is gold to be found underneath the rough edges. Some of the melodies on offer are wonderful to behold, and Marks had nailed the ambient dub template almost from the get-go. Maya may not be the most enduring Banco de Gaia album but fans of the project will still find little things about it that will keep them coming back to listen to again and again.

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.

I Awake - The Core

Ultimae Records: 2008

For much of Ultimae's history, the debut of any act on their label isn't that artist's first solo release. Some have had Ultimae compilation duty prior, while others offered music on other labels. Thomas Huttenlocher's one of the few exceptions, dropping his first single Birth on Ultimae in 2007, then following that up with a full-length titled The Core the year after. Unless Lord Discogs is being dishonest with me, he had no other material out before then. The bio write-up mentions he was a part of a Swedish ambient collective called Ghostfriend, but the Lord draws even blanker on such a name than Mr. Huttenlocher. What I’m getting at here is, if this I Awake material truly was his debut, then damn dawg, I gotta applaud him in getting the Ultimae blessing (re: the Ultimae Mixdown™) right out the gate. Not many chill acts are so lucky, so this I Awake material must be something special to grab the label’s attention thus.

Well, I don’t know about that, but The Core did come out when Ultimae was in the process of releasing albums from artists outside their main roster - one can enjoy the Solar Fields and Aes Dana stylee for so long before asking if the label has any other chill on offer. With I Awake, we get the old-school, Planet Dog “technorganic” sound. Hoo, remember that term, anyone? It wasn’t any sort of ambient dub or world beat that’d come before, oh no; rather, a fusion of the two, with a psychedelic twist. Okay, it’s essentially psy-dub in its primordial form, but it was a distinct sound that fell by the wayside when Simon Posford’s work as Shpongle informed everyone that that was how psy-dub was to be done thereafter (what is Posford, the Hawtin of psy?).

So The Core features ample use of nature samples, worldly beats, organic instrumentation, and dubby soundscapes, but with modern production chops. You find full-bodied bass sequences in New Time Nomads, Neveritized, and Leaving The Known, occasional glitch rhythms spicing things up throughout, and nary a cliché use of ethnic vocals. All of which is naturally mastered with the trademark Ultimae panoramic touch. In a funny way, I feel this robs Huttenlocher of his distinctiveness among the roster. Instead of having a fresh, unique sound hanging with the big boys, he gets mushed into the soup along with everyone else. And sadly, as I Awake doesn’t carry nearly the same pedigree as Carbon Based Lifeforms or Asura (etc, etc.), The Core becomes lost among all the top-tiered acts.

This is another rich album of chill-out music from the label, of that there is no doubt. With track durations of reasonable length, few noodly bits crop up, and moods run the gamut from bright and exotic (Leaving The Known, Inferno) to dark and mysterious (Reflecting Impulses, Reclaim). I Awake may not carry the recognition of Ultimae’s all-stars, but he must be doing something right if the label got dibs on his debut.

Banco de Gaia - Live At Glastonbury

Mammoth Records: 1996

Much better. Much, much better! Maybe it's the Glastonbury vibe capturing these acts at their best; they sure were the strongest recordings from The Orb's live compilation (hard to call Live 93 a proper album). So if you're a young EDM chap thinking of releasing a live album, better make it a gig from the famous British festival.

Truth be told, I was incredibly hesitant to pick this up at first glance. It’d only been a few months since I’d bought Banco de Gaia’s first two CDs, thus I was still in that ‘eh, not as good as I hoped’ mindset regarding Last Train To Lhasa. Now here’s another CD containing most of Lhasa, plus Mafich Arabi and Heliopolis, another pair of tunes I was lukewarm over as heard on Maya (I was dead-set on believing Toby Marks produced worldly ambient dub and nothing but). Still, what’s that last track, Data Inadequate? Never heard that one on either album, nor was it on the Ambient Dub series. Is it a new song? Nah, probably some live dialog; maybe a corny joke that the show’s over, therefore has inadequate data to carry on. Yeah, that’s it.

Anyhow, I bought Live At Glastonbury regardless, because that’s what you do when you find a new musical love. And sure enough, once the CD played through, my hesitations over its merits quickly dissipated. The crowd’s properly present, their cheers never overwhelming the music while placing you among the mass. A few technical hiccups with the opener Last Train To Lhasa aside, the sound’s clear and full, with enough open air resonance giving the tracks fresh vitality. Mafich Arabi’s funky drum work is essentially unchanged from its album counterpart, but is far more vibrant and energetic with all that extra, delicious bass reverberating off open spaces.

Even better, some of these tunes have been reworked to serve the party environment of Glastonbury. Marks adds layers of cacophonous rhythms and acid squelches to the start of White Paint, turning a formerly sombre piece of music into a raucous build. 887 gets double-timed beats along with funky “whoop whoop” drops, and Kincajou... is actually rather mellow, despite a pumping rhythm kicking throughout. Heh, not like I’d expect another half-hour ambient excursion of the tune at Glastonbury; The Orb, sure.

As for that final cut, Data Inadequate, hot damn, where did this come from? Right, Marks’ first tape-only album Medium, and the old-school vibes are clear as day, all sci-fi space opera synths and chugging UK acid house beats. Its light years away from the typical Banco world beat sound, and a wonderful way to cap off an already fun CD.

Live At Glastonbury may only hold interest for fans of Toby Marks’ project, but for my money (and maybe yours!), it’s also an excellent example of how to do a live album right. Great sound recording, unique variations of tracks, and even a few surprises thrown in: what more could you ask for?

Asura - Life² (Original TC Review)

Ultimae Records: 2007

(2014 Update:
This was my first exposure to Ulitmae, and does this review ever show it. That is, I knew absolutely nothing about the label, so barely bring them up at all; plenty of research into Asura, however. Interestingly enough, even from the start, I was bemoaning the lack of journalistic coverage these guys were getting, though perhaps in a more confrontational way than I do now. Not much else to add to this review, though like much of my old stuff, a little wordy in places.

'Tis funny, my covering of Life² was practically by random chance. I was in the process of giving my old TranceCritic writing partner, Jack Moss, a rather ineffectual pep-talk, as he was going through review writer's doldrums, dissatisfied with new material to cover in 2007. I urged him to take a chance on something unknown, perhaps discovering gold in the process. As an example, I fired up Juno Records and, browsing through their new releases, clicked the first cover which caught my eye, which happened to be this. "There," I told him, "why not review this CD? Looks interesting." He wasn't convinced at the time, but the samples piqued my curiosity further, so I went about getting it for myself to review instead. Ultimae has gone on to be a favorite label for both of us, though it was likely an eventuality regardless of that first arbitrary exposure.)


IN BRIEF: Don’t you dare miss this one.

I think I’m going to go right ahead and straight-off declare this album a front-runner for Criminally Overlooked Releases In 2007. It seems unavoidable, really. Already there are factors limiting its success, despite the music contained being exquisite: tiny French label few are aware of; paltry promotional power; general lack of awareness for the name Asura; a form of music folks tend to be afraid to take a chance on these days due to the overabundance of downtempo bilge souring tastes for it.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. The psy scene has unofficially adopted Asura into their ranks, despite the fact the man behind the project, Charles Farewell, has never really claimed to be a part of it. And although he’s produced some music that easily fits into the psy chill category, Asura covers a far broader sonic canvas than mere trippy synthy soundscapes.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Let me backtrack a bit.

Although the brainchild of Mr. Farewell, there have been a few other names tied to the project over the years. However, on this third album, Farewell has gone at it solo, and raised the question if he’d be able to handle the marriage of organic and synthetic instrumentation that had become the group’s recognized style. Titled Life², the album makes for an incredibly strong argument in his favor.

Opener Golgotha will have you wondering if you even have an electronic album on. Thunderous percussion, somber symphonic swells, ethereal woodwinds, and haunting chants all combine to create something out of an epic biblical soundtrack; without the heavy-handiness such epics are often victim of, mind. It’s a gripping piece of music though, grabbing your attention right out of the gate.

Back To Light brings the synths and sequencers into focus, with many organic sounds wrapped around them. What may strike you as a bit odd, though, is just how plastic the beats sound. Considering the richly textures of everything else, it’s a bizarre contrast, yet fits within the context of the music just the same. The song itself? Lovely; stirring; exhilarating, especially in the second half where the rhythms turn breakbeat rather than steady... I could ramble on a number of adjectives, but I’d end up using them all up way too soon in this review, and this is only the second track.

Diversity is also the name of the game when it comes to Asura. Recalling the old synth composers of the ‘70s at their best, Galaxies Part One makes use of cascading soundscapes and pulsing melodies as soft gentle rhythms and chants float in the background. The second part, meanwhile, has a more modern take on this style, with urgency in its melodies, moodier synths, and grumbling dubby beats carrying it along. And unlike many ambient pieces, there’s never a sense of aimless meandering; it’s a meticulous path the way Farewell has written his music. Even The Prophecy, which even at seven plus minutes in length comes off more like an interlude in the album’s flow, has more going for it than a mere somber sonic doodle.

Of course, Farewell wouldn’t be known to the psy community unless he dabbled in that style too. Celestial Tendencies, Butterfly FX, and the title track pick up the pace, dipping into more proggy territory. There’s chunky acid burbling in the background, various synthy pads, electronic effects, tasteful vocal samples, and ethnic instruments sprinkled in for good measure to keep you constantly grounded. And while these tracks aren’t quite as evocative as the slower songs, they nonetheless manage to stir the soul with just as much finesse while providing something heavier to groove on.

There’s a couple more on here I could talk about too, but I’ll leave it up to you to find out how they sound - why should I spoil the surprise, after all (I will say the final track is a perfect capper) ? However, of important mention is how Life² is a complete package as an album. Everything flows seamlessly together, creating a gripping listening experience beginning to end. Typically, disparate tempo changes between songs can throw a wrench into things on other albums, but it works perfectly fine here, coming off like chapters rather than separate individual parts.

And all this probably doesn’t mean a lick to all but the most adventurous anyway. Well, maybe the psy scene will be more boned up on this release, but the rest of you. Yes, YOU! The one that doesn’t believe it, that Life² couldn’t possibly be as great as I say it is. Where is, after all, the love from the major players in this industry? Why hasn’t there been a glowing exposé in the magazines? How come there isn’t a ton of buzz online in all the trendy forums?

Honestly, I haven’t a clue why, but this isn’t an uncommon occurrence. Many fine albums slip through the cracks, often rediscovered by hunters of great music in later years. If this is to be Asura’s fate, so be it. In the meantime, those who have found Life² in their players shall have their ears richly rewarded.

Enigma - Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi!

Virgin: 1996

Enigma had beaten the sophomore slump on The Cross Of Changes, thanks in large part to songs you couldn't escape anywhere you went. In fact, I suspect it may have been overkill on the casual listener's part, as by the mid-'90s, interest in world-beat pop had significantly dwindled. What, another ethnic chant coupled with Shakuhachi flutes and dated breakbeats? Fah, who's got time for that when 'girl with acoustic guitar' is all the hotness now (then). Michael Cretu, crafty producer he is, also recognized the need to keep his project evolving. Thus his third album, Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi!, was promoted as a marriage of his two previous Enigma works. Hey, now I get that title! It's, like, proclaiming old Enigma is dead, but here's new Enigma to lead the way. Deep, man.

Unfortunately, the album itself failed to generate much buzz beyond the lead single Beyond The Invisible, itself memorable mostly for the odd video. I mean, really, what’s going on here: Lola be running to the woods, where a figure-skating competition is being judged by steampunk cenobites (those oddballs on the cover) while tree sprites watch. It’s actually not a bad tune, though clearly a step below such hits as Age Of Loneliness and Sadeness, Part 1 - T.N.T. For The Brain comes close though. I guess if you’ve never cared about Cretu’s vocals, it wouldn’t grab you either. Tough beans if that’s the case, as he sings quite a bit for this album.

In fact, the more there are vocals on Le Roi Is Morty, Live The King!, the less interesting the album is. I appreciate the effort Mr. Cretu puts into his singing, as you can tell he’s giving his limited range all that he can offer (with a little studio boost too), but the tracks he leads on have almost always been the weakest cuts on his albums. His wife, Sandra, adds so much scintillating depth to admittedly daft New Age lyrics, and it’s a shame she doesn’t get more to do this time out.

Musically, The King Is Dead; Oops, He’s A Zombie! is softer than the previous two. Morphing Thru Time lazily coasts, Shadows In Silence floats on tranquil oceans, Almost Full Moon blissfully rocks back and forth in a dreamy daze, and Prism Of Life... well, would likely go good around a campfire. Even the upbeat tunes aren’t as driving in their rhythms as older Enigma, The Roundabout about the closest thing coming to a proper club cut.

LREM,VLR! is a better album than most gave it credit for back in the day, but has the feeling of an ambitious theme that never quite gels. Some trimming of the sappier moments like Why!... (oh God, Cretu just can’t sing here) and The Child In Us (oof, what platitudes) would have helped. If anything, the instrumentals are gorgeous, and worth checking the album out if you’ve been a fence sitter for all this time.

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.

Delerium - Karma (2013 Update)

Nettwerk: 1997

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)


Oh my God! I had no idea Leeb and Fulber recycled the main melody in Twilight from their earlier Front Line Assembly tune Outcast. Have they no shame? Ah, who cares, it's a great melody. Okay, that sorted...

That Silence, a track receiving very little promotion when Karma first hit the streets, would go on to (sadly) define Delerium forever after - and who’s subsequent remixes would also inspire a whole slew of copycat vocal trance upstarts - has always surprised me. Reflecting on the whole phenomenon as I re-listened to this album, however, I was struck by something even more surprising: why wasn't this song more heavily promoted? I mean, Sarah f’n McLachlan’s on the vocals, at a time when her star was finally breaking through into mainstream recognition (or was that Canada’s hype machine going into overdrive?). Who cares about that chick from Single Gun Theory or Ms. McLachlan’s backup singer when you have the real deal providing pipes on a song? I guess Nettwerk did, tapping Euphoric and Duende for lead single duty instead (sorry, Kristy Thirsk, you already got two singles to your credit on the previous Delerium album).

I’ve already touched upon why such collaboration made sense in my old review. On the other hand, perhaps Nettwerk was uncertain whether the two had audiences within the same sphere. Despite a following career suggesting otherwise, Leeb and Fulber’s ambient side-project was still considered more in line with the industrial and goth scene most knew them by. It wouldn’t surprise me if Nettwerk saw potential in turning Delerium from dark, morbid, ambient drone into something commercially viable upon signing them, but even after Semantic Spaces, they fluttered between the two. Karma, however, was definitely taking a proper stab at ‘post-Enigma’ world beat and downtempo; yet only electronic music fans remained aware of the group, even in 1997. Lord knows I couldn’t namedrop Delerium to anyone outside my music circle without getting confused glances. The cliché may now be that both Delerium and Sarah McLachlan appeal to the same demographic (middle-aged housewives into spiritualism and that), but it was far from the case when Karma came out. Sarah had her fans in the folk music scene, Delerium had their fans in… elsewheres, and you’d never catch either of them interacting (unless by accident if they were watching a MuchMusic Countdown video with both making the list).

G'uh, I’ve spent way too much time on Silence, something I should instead do when I review the single-proper (which is never). Whatever the initial intent behind the song was, it went on to dominate Delerium’s sound forever after (ethereal, gothic world beat pop with guest female vocals). Ugh, it was okay as intermittent tracks spaced out between the pure instrumentals (if you can count a bunch of ethnic and Gregorian chants as ‘instrumental’), but not as their defining characteristic. Karma struck the right balance, and small surprise it remains a favourite for new and old fans alike.

Loop Guru - Duniya (The Intrinsic Passion Of Mysterious Joy)

Waveform Records: 1995

Well of course I’m gonna buy more than just one act’s collection of music from Waveform this past week - it’s not called ‘splurging’ for nothing. Loop Guru’s another in a long list of acts I mean to gather more of, but never get around to doing so. Their relationship with Waveform isn’t as extensive as others, however, this here Duniya album their only offering. It’s also a re-release of the album of the same name that came out a year prior on Nation Records, a tidbit of info not so surprising since most of Waveform’s early artist albums were primarily Stateside re-releases.

Also not so surprising – at least where the ‘90s are concerned – is how this version of Duniya is quite different from the original. Whether due to licensing issues, copyright claims, or oddball label marketing, European and American copies of albums seldom matched each other, and it seems Loop Guru were no less a victim (benefactor?) of this business. Tunes Hymn and Senseless are gone, though we get a new cut, Shrine Of Sringar, in their place. Also, aside from the final run of three tracks, everything’s been re-arranged. Whether this makes for stronger album flow, I haven’t a clue, since I’ve never heard the Nation Records version of Duniya.

But to be fair, this is the first time I’ve heard the Waveform one too, so I've no basis of comparison. That said, Duniya sure reminds me of the Guru's follow-up album Amrita. Since they came out within a year of each other, some similarities would be inevitable, but this is almost down to a t', in song arrangements and track sequencing (at least the Waveform version).

This being the earlier album though, Duniya's rougher around the edges. The whole endless world-beat loop production is if full effect, but many of the beats used sound directly lifted from early '90s UK acid house, unfortunately rather dated for a '94/'95 collection of ethno-fusion tuneage. I know Loop Guru's whole shtick in those days was to invoke a tribal, meditative trance with all the repetition, but it’s difficult getting into the chakra flow with beats reminding me of EMF instead. Whatever. It's only a problem for the first few tracks anyway, after which the songcraft does get better (or sucks you in despite itself), so I guess Waveform were smart in getting the duff cuts out of the way early.

Another similarity between the two is the inclusion of an extended dub jam at the end (did Loop Guru do this for every album?). On here, it lasts whopping twenty-one-plus minutes, putting your patience for such music to its ultimate test. Geez, even Bill Laswell isn’t that indulgent. No wonder Part 4 isn’t on the original Third Chamber CD – there's no damned room for it! Tune's fine for what it is though, as is the rest of Duniya. Some of the world-beat attributes will definitely come off dated, but that’s never stopped folks from enjoying Deep Forest’s early work either.

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.

Banco de Gaia - I Love Baby Cheesy

Six Degrees Records: 1999

Windows Media Player has some odd organization. Ignoring articles in titles, that makes sense to me – who wants long strings of ‘the’s, ‘a’s, and ‘an’s? Yet here we are in the ‘I’s, and it regards the pronoun ‘I’ as its own entity, lining up all my albums starting with “I…”. On the other hand, it treats the word ‘is’ as lesser than ‘I’, as demonstrated when Khooman’s album Is A Flexible Liquid cropped up in the ‘F’s. All of this, of course, has nothing to do with the music on Banco de Gaia’s I Love Baby Cheesy. If you’ve actually been wondering how this alphabetical thing works though, here’s your answer, since there’s not much to discuss regarding this single, and I have to eat up self-imposed word count somehow.

Truth is, aside from one or two cases, Toby Marks' project doesn't translate well to the singles format. His albums generally are enjoyed as a whole, and the odd tune that does get plucked out for EP use often comes off weaker without the surrounding tracks as context. Still, DJs gotta DJ, and they'd much rather have a shorter piece of wax or disc without all the fuss of partial blends and multi-tracks.

I Love Baby Cheesy was the lead single off Magical Sounds Of Banco de Gaia (and the lead track, incidentally), marking a return to big, exuberant fun-time music from Marks after the relatively somber Big Men Cry. As a jump off point for that album, it's fantastic, the combination of funky rhythms, catchy nonsensical vocal samples, hooky synths, and dashes of world beat grabbing you by the lapels for a flailing good time on the dance floor or open field. It's about as light-hearted as you'll ever find Banco de Gaia (and if you don't believe me, gander at those goofs in the video). Shame the stupid Radio Edit on this single ruins all of that, but his Skippy Mix makes up for it (aside from a few cosmetic changes, it's the same as the album version).

Two remixers join in on the cheddar love, the first care of Dub Pistols, a group who broke out during the big beat era and are still kicking it today. Best way to describe their take on this tune is… ‘hard-step’ breaks? Whatever, it’s typical late-‘90s fodder, and mostly forgettable.

The second comes care of a chap going by Wayward Soul, offering two rubs here. Lord Discogs says this is actually Anthony Thorpe. *blink* Wait, original acid house Thorpe, he of Addis Posse, Moody Boys, and such? You sure of that, oh Lord? Huh, if so, that’s quite a coup on Marks’ part to snag him. His remixes are pretty cool too, the first (Electric Cheddar Remix) a dubby, tribal breaks thing, and the second (The Afro-European Remix) going deeper into the dub and tribal haze. Yeah, I can vibe to these. They’re definitely unique offerings within the Banco discography, even for those who are not completists. (*tugs at collar*)

Juno Reactor - Bible Of Dreams

Blue Room Released/Metropolis: 1997/2008

First, some well-deserved props to Metropolis for reissuing all the Juno Reactor albums released prior to the band joining their label. It couldn’t have been easy gathering up the rights to them, as Ben Watkins’ group saw distribution across several labels in several countries throughout the ‘90s. That said, I cannot deny some disappointment with the reissue of Bible Of Dreams. I never had an original copy myself, but a couple friends did, and the combination of a slick digipak (back when they weren’t as common) with modified Renaissance artwork in the booklet gave the album a degree of class few psy-leaning CDs of the day could compete with. Well, the booklet remains for the reissue, but comes within a boring old jewel case now. Poor form, Metropolis. This is a classic, treat it as such, eh?

Actually, Bible Of Dreams isn’t quite the classic many make it out to be. For sure it's another strong album in the Juno Reactor legacy, arguably even their best from front to back. A critical release within electronic music as a whole, however, is debatable. My impression's long been it was an LP that happened to drop at the right time, and got noticed by a wider audience thanks in large part to their signing with TVT Records for Stateside distribution. TVT also had a lucrative deal with Hollywood, licensing out music for all sorts of action movies (hence why so many of them featured industrial acts from their roster). This greater exposure rescued Juno Reactor from psy trance obscurity, and with tracks like Conga Fury and God Is God leading the way, drew in a ton of new fans who'd never have given them a second thought. “Holy shit, dude, there's music like this being made out there!?” Yeah, you silly metalhead, it's been around for years.

Wait, scratch that. Bible Of Dreams did have fresh sounds on it when the album first dropped in '97. For sure there's some regular ol' psy in the latter half of the CD, but Juno Reactor almost sounds bored with these tunes, like they're going through the motions or were left-overs from previous work. No, Bible Of Dreams made its impact within the psy scene with its opening salvo, showcasing a radical change of musicianship for Ben Watkins' band that none foresaw coming (orchestral swells, in goa trance!?).

Opener Jardin de Cecile is blissy but brisk, almost progressive trance; God Is God is practically world beat with an evil, industrial bent; Komit finds something of a meeting ground between Watkins’ forward outlook and goa of old; and Swamp Thing predicts prog psy’s techier moments a decade early (gotta have those triplets!). Oh, and tribal beats. Especially tribal beats. Lots of tribal beats. This is Watkins tapping into the primitive parts of your brain, giving all who ventured into this album – hippie and metalhead alike – something unexpected and unforgettable. He definitely succeeded in that regard, as Juno Reactor’s star flew ever higher after this one.

Banco de Gaia - Apollo

Disco Gecko: 2013

It sure hasn’t felt like seven years since a proper full length from the World Bank came out. True, Marks also gave us a live/cover album in Memories Dreams Reflections and an odds ‘n’ sods one in Songs From The Silk Road, but compared to the blistering pace he’d release during the ‘90s, this is a long gap. Then again, perhaps it couldn’t be helped - priorities change, inspiration fades, that sort of rot. Somehow though, ol’ Toby got his mojo back, and now we have a new Banco de Gaia album to enjoy! Or at least I’ll enjoy. Maybe you will too, if my review sells you on it.

Actually, if you’ve enjoyed Mr. Marks’ music in the past, I shouldn’t need to sell you on Apollo. This is about as close to recapturing his late ‘90s sound (which was his peak, as far as I’m concerned) in a very, very long time. The only vocals come care of ethnic samples and singing, anything of a political bent has been jettisoned, and genre experimentation is almost non-existent. Instead, we have somber ambient pieces, dubby downtempo, and stompin’ dance-jams, all marinated in that ‘worldly vibe as heard from space’ prog-rock way that’s been a Banco staple since Big Men Cry. In fact, were I to compare Apollo to a prior album (and of course I’m gonna!), it’s most like Magical Sounds, though arranged differently; whereas the older album started big and fun, this one’s more contemplative and reflective (would a song titled Lamentations be anything else?).

There are quite a few other things on Apollo that reminds me of that era. Lead single Wimble Toot features the returning saxophonist Matt Jenkins, who along with Pink Floyd saxophonist Dick Parry played on Big Men Cry’s Celestine. Later in the album, Ted Duggan, who first lent his drumming talent back in Igizeh, shows up in Hu! - and like so many Banco tunes to feature live instruments, both tracks sound like they’d kick ass in concert (c’mon, Tobes, bring the band to Canada sometime!). And though there’s no credits confirming it, Eternal Sunshine comes off like a collaboration between Banco and psy trance act Eat Static, something that could have potentially occurred back when they still shared the same label (a shame it never did); it’s also the only track that breaks the ‘conventional Banco’ mold on Apollo, but not by much.

Still, this album doesn’t reach the heights of his best albums, for the unfortunate reason that its overall theme seems muddled. A booklet linking pictures to the songs is included with the hard copy (plus tied to the digi-files should you go that route), but I’m at a loss what message is conveyed, beyond a romanticism of cultures past (similar nostalgic feelings for his career?). Also, some could argue the lack of apparent musical growth hampers Apollo, but considering few even make music like Marks these days and fresh Banco material’s rare, I’ll take falling back on successful formulae anytime.

Banco de Gaia - Farewell Ferengistan (Original TC Review)

Six Degrees Records: 2006

(2013 Update:
I think this was among the last of my track-by-track reviews, and it's too damn long as a result. Did Ynys Elen really need that much detailing? Of course not! Yeesh. One could probably chalk the length to inexperience in handling over-enthusiastic fandom while writing, as Banco de Gaia remains one of my all-time favorite acts. It'll be interesting to see how I'm forced to curtail it since his upcoming album, Apollo, definitely falls within one of my alphabetical stipulations.)


IN BRIEF: Banco’s back on form

To say the last Banco de Gaia album (You Are Here) was met with lukewarm responses may be generous. While not a bad album, it seemed to lack a coherent theme and purpose, resulting in a listen that was disjointed and confusing. Many followers of Toby Marks’ music wondered if he was feeling a musical burnout, or if You Are Here was merely an experiment that didn’t quite hit the mark. Judging from the material on his new album, Farewell Ferengistan, it seems the latter may have been the case.

Yes, my friends, Marks indeed found his groove once more. While the production definitely comes off more focused this time out, the major improvement is the lack of preach that hampered the last album. Marks often injected political thoughts and ideas in his works, but rarely at the expense of the music on hand. I suppose with the volatile political climate in the years You Are Here was made, Marks’ sloganeering got the better of him, hoping to spur on some extra activism. Unfortunately, it came off redundant, as most of the Banco audience is already boned up on such ideas. Farewell Ferengistan does away with that, letting the music speak for itself again as Marks provides little blurbs in the inlay (including an amusing disclaimer reading, “All facts and claims stated herein are liable to be untrue, partially true, or totally true depending on your viewpoint”; we should have a disclaimer like that too!). The thoughts he details can give some insight into the ideas he approached some of the songs with, but, for the most part, they aren’t crucial in enjoying the music on its own merits.

Also, Farewell Ferengistan creates captivating settings, a long-time Banco trademark, and something that was sorely lacking on the last album. Whether conjuring up dusty Arab caravans, ancient mountain villages, lonely starship freighters, primal tribal gatherings, or drunken monasteries, Marks’ ability to let your imagination take over with his music guiding is remarkable.

The first half of Farewell Ferengistan is quite good at this, drawing upon many influences that harken back to an era when traveling by horse was common, and the dominant empire was that of the Mongols (probably the largest in recorded history). Even the name Ferengistan comes from the name far-flung settlements in Central Asia dubbed Europe at the time (Ferengi became a derogatory term for Western traders, due to their greedy, materialistic tendencies of the time, and used by most Arabs and East Asians... and that’s your fun-fact for the day). As always, Marks’ production is sample-heavy, but unassuming in its presentation. I’ve always marveled at how he can take a well-worn, rinsed-out, over-abused sample, and make it sound fresh again, and this time is no different. Ethnic chants, wood winds, drum loops, spoken dialogue; it’s all here, although some may be a bit more difficult to I.D. this time if you’re a sample trainspotter. As has been the growing trend in Banco de Gaia, electronic elements play a much reduced roll, complementing the organic nature of the songs rather than leading them.

The somber, downbeat title track opens things up, setting up a nice atmosphere but doesn’t really hook you in from the get-go. Rather, the simple melody in Ynys Elen will do the trick, mainly because it’s essentially a 32-bar refrain, repeating throughout the whole track. What keeps you hooked though (besides its catchiness, of course), is the fact Marks is constantly adding something new with each go-around: a new set of drums, a different synth, an added pad, and much more. By always keeping things evolving, Ynys Elen comes across as more of a jam than an actual song, each successive loop bringing a new contribution to the fray.

The pace picks up with Chingiz, a fairly standard dance track with a fairly non-standard vocal lead (Mongolian chants, in case the title didn’t give it away). Not to be outdone, follow-up Kara Kum takes the rhythmic vibes a step further with building layers of forlorn guitar strums, lonely woodwinds, and tribal drums. At one point, the song breaks down to start over, relying on only the drums and an 808 beat to build tension. And build tension it does, as the track’s intensity never gives the listener a chance to catch their breath, relentless in its primal assault. Once the melodic elements return, Kara Kum is in high-gear for a rousing climax. Shame about that abrupt ending though.

The Harmonious G8 is best described as a conceptual interlude. The idea is to fuse together the individual performances of a singer form each of the G8 nations, which was carried out at one of the recent summits. Of course, it isn’t a flowing sound when it comes together, but certainly more coherent than you’d expect.

Moving into the second half of the album, Marks leaves the past and heads into the future with a pair of sci-fi influenced tracks. Saturn Return is a spacey ambient piece, and is quite effective in placing you amongst the stars before grounding you back on Earth with some casual rhythms and a female chant to take you out. Journalists will probably end up adding Terry Riley to the every-growing list of musicians they often strain comparing Banco de Gaia to.

And perhaps even Wendy Carlos as well. Sure, the opening of Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept sounds like a typical Banco tune, with pleasant electronics, groovy rhythms, rich ambience, and a rousing male vocal. However, the song soon moves into a synthy rendition of Flow My Tears. Composed by the British lute player John Dowland in the 16th Century, it has the odd contrast of being both mournful and uplifting at the same time. A simple enough idea, but Marks turns this song into a tribute of sorts to Philip K. Dick, whom penned many sci-fi novels, including the one that went on to be turned into Bladerunner. What kind of tribute (beyond Dick’s enjoyment of the original piece, of course)? By having the lyrics to Flow My Tears sung in a robotic voice, rendering them almost unintelligible! Actually, Flow My Dreams, The Android Wept comes off remarkably well. Even if the lyrics are hard to understand, they still add to the song’s atmosphere, and work as an additional element complementing the main melody. Hey, if it worked for Vector Lovers, why not here as well? It’s a sonic experiment never tried under the Banco banner, and succeeds.

White Man’s Burden changes the album’s setting again with its lengthy, ambient opening. Layers of lush, natural soundscapes keep building, hinting at an emotional peak. Instead, once the rhythms take over, the tone of the track goes one-eighty, turning into something more ominous to lead out. If you’re familiar with the origins of the song’s title, the context of this musical change won’t be lost on you.

Farewell Ferengistan ends on a charming note with We All Know The Truth. The title reads like something you might find on an Enigma album, but the track itself rather sounds like one of William Orbit’s poppier moments, including lyrics sung by Maya Preece of Dragonflys. As a song to cap off the album, I suppose it works. Despite being overly chipper at times, We All Know... feels like a reassuring lullaby, reminding us there’s still warmth in a world that can feel cold at times. How the song fits in the Banco discography, one phrase uttered by Roger Meyers, Jr. sums up my own thoughts: “It’s different, I’ll give it that.”

But different is good when done with finesse. While Farewell Ferengistan does see a return of the of Banco style we’ve been familiar with over the years, there’s enough fresh ideas executed to surprise long term fans as well. For the most part though, this is a contemplative album. Marks seems aware we’re at a turning point of sorts in human history, and while it helps to look to the past for guidance, we should still keep our eyes forward. The future isn’t as scary a place we sometimes think it is so long as we approach it with the right intentions.

Various - Fahrenheit Project - Part Three

Ultimae Records: 2002/2008

Let’s get something out in the open: Ultimae ain’t perfect. They’re very good at what they do, great even, but sometimes they slip. For instance, you know the little incense stick included with your orders? Well, they sent Lavender Bliss in one of mine, and dammit, I was countin’ on Summer Rain. Fail!

Okay, I’m being silly there, but yes, not everything they release is gold. Though I’ve never come across an Ultimae CD that’s anything less than bronze, when a label maintains such a high level of quality, even ‘just okay’ can be disappointing. Credit due where it’s deserved though, as their first year of operation saw a string of strong releases in the first two Fahrenheit Projects, plus the debuts of Asura and Solar Fields. To kick off the following year, they released Part 3 of their flagship series, and it’s… well, not as good as the first two.

The trouble lies with one of the few critiques one could find in Ultimae as a whole: their roster has a tendency to sound all alike, indistinguishable from each other. To be fair, this is a complaint one can make for nearly any smallish label, in that cultivating talent with shared musical aesthetics is standard business practice. The first two Fahrenheits got around this potential hiccup by bringing in established acts to spice up the musical variety. Now that Ultimae had gathered a respectable roster of their own, however, they gave their homegrown talent most of the spotlight for Fahrenheit 3. It unfortunately renders much of the CD down to a pleasant-but-mushy gloop of psy-chill music indistinguishable one artist from the next. Even after playing it just now - maybe the third or fourth time since I got the whole Fahrenheit package - I still have trouble remembering much of significance.

As if to drive the point home, the first track that always sticks in my mind comes from one of the non-Ultimae posse, Nabab by Toirés (who’d also cropped up on Fahrenheit 1). It’s a fairly standard bit of Indian-flavoured world beat, but oh such a respite from everything else. Mystical Sun also contributes with Blue Magnetic Ocean, a tune that’s far more uptempo for the chap’s style.

Another thing of note with this compilation is the debuts of Carbon Based Lifeforms and Ultimae ‘supergroup’ H.U.V.A. Network. CBL actually had an MP3.com release a couple years prior, but with a proper label behind them now, the duo makes good on their opportunity with a lovely slice of ambient techno in MOS 6581, plus a chill-out closer with Metrosat 4. As for the Aes Dana/Solar Fields collab’, it’s suitably cinematic given the players involved, but one suspects they’re capable of better.

That, along with another solo outing from Aes Dana, plus two more from Solar Fields, is likely why so much of Fahrenheit 3 sounds interchangeable. It’s not a deal breaker, but if ranking the series, Part 3 takes up the rear. Oh well, one of them had to.

Various - Fahrenheit Project - Part Two

Ultimae Records: 2001/2008

Striking while the opportunity was hot, Ultimae completed their transformation from Infinium and released Fahrenheit Project, Part 2 the same year as the first, using the tried and tested method of exposing your new label by flooding the market. Nah, that's not it. The first volume was such a success that it attracted high-profile talent eager to contribute to the project, and Ultimae was happy to oblige, even if a quick turnaround was odd. No, wait, that's probably not it either. Maybe a combination of both?

Whatever. The second in the Fahrenheit series is unique amongst the others, in that it features artists that are quite recognizable even without the Ultimae association. Nuclear Ramjet had a minor hit with Deep Blue that year, while Vibrasphere and Khetzal would turn out highly regarded careers within the psy trance scene in the ensuing decade. Oh, and ambient luminary Robert Rich contributed a new track, which is nothing short than a coup for a fledgling ambient label like Ultimae was. Rich’s music career traces back to the scene’s earliest years of the ‘80s, and though he never quite reached the same status as Roach, Braheny, or Stearns, he still carved out an important niche within space music’s history. So yeah, Rich... Ultimae... good stuff. So good, in fact, that the tune he provided, Somnium, bookends the whole compilation, first as an intro, then in its full version to close out in dark, mysterious droning fashion.

And the rest of the music? Pretty darn good, I’d say. The above artists all turn out typically psy leaning downbeat tunes, while Chi-A.D. returns with an even better psy dub jam with When The Effect Came. Another regular contributor to these early Fahrenheit compilations was Mystical Sun, who’s meditative blend of ambience and world beat provided a nice contrast to the CDs’ upbeat moments, offers a typically calm track with Waters Of Life.

As for the Ultimae regulars, their productions find them on much stronger footing than the last outing, their music hinting at newfound confident swagger. Solar Fields opens Fahrenheit 2 with Electric Fluid, mixing psy and ambient techno to great effect. Elsewhere, Aes Dana’s Summerland shows off the ‘slow trance’ sound that would become another of Ultimae’s trademarks, and Bénarès from Hol Baumann gets into funky world beat, which wouldn’t sound too out of place on that Elemental Chill: Earth compilation. Cell, another frequent Ultimae contributor, also debuts here, his Keun Yung showing that classic ambient techno was far from dead even at the turn of the century. Shame there’s no Asura on this one, but after two tracks on Fahrenheit 1, a step back for the other Ultimae artists to shine is fine.

Not much else to say about Fahrenheit Project, Part 2. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a better CD than the first, as it’s missing a truly knock-out track like Asura’s They Will Come, but overall it’s a slicker package. Going from strength to strength: the Ultimae manifesto.