Nelly Furtado - Folklore

Dreamworks: 2003

You namedrop one Canadian pop singer, and the CanCon Commission comes knocking at your door. “How come you're reviewing a Japanese pop starlet, but not one of our own?” they ask. Look, chaps, I think I've been quite fair in my mandatory Canadian content. Why, I've even given two hip-hop acts that aren't Drake some shine here. Besides, R&B and pop really isn't my area of expertise, so...

“Nope, you're reviewing at least Nelly Furtado's first three albums, and if not, we're sending you to the Ellef Ringnes Island gulag.”

(Disclaimer: re-enactment – may or may not have really happened!)

Nelly Furtado was undoubtedly one of my country's biggest stars at the turn of the century. Not only popular enough to go multi-platinum on her debut, but managed to re-invent herself into a damn phenomenon, truly becoming a global star. By alphabetical decree, however, I'm starting with the record between those two flashpoints, the so-called sophomore slump of Folklore. Aww, c'mon, guys, it ain't that bad, really.

Following her breakout, however, she was something of an in-demand vocalist. Paul Oakenfold tapped her. Swollen Members tapped her (at the height of their popularity, no less). For most though, it was appearing on the remix of Missy Elliot's Get Ur Freak On that showed and proved she wasn't some one-hit wonder. That Nelly could hang with the pop world elite. Logic dictated that she should pursue that particular audience, maybe even work with Timbaland in an official capacity. Instead, she stuck with her original production crew (alt-rockers Philosopher Kings alum Brian West and Gerald Eaton) for an album that's, well, diverse, if nothing else.

There's no denying the album sounds big and bold, unafraid to toss whatever influence strikes Nelly's interest into the pot. Opener One-Trick Pony has a bit of folksy twang, follow-up Powerless throws in more Mediterranean influences (gotta' show those Portuguese roots), Explode aims for something more clubby with brisk rhythms and heavier low-ends, and Try... ah, there's the radio-friendly adult contemporary song I've heard for the last two decades.

All well and good, but I get why regular folks may not have connected with all the genre dalliances, especially when few offer quite the earworms Ms. Furtado had sang before. C'mon though, how can you not get a silly grin on your face hearing her crack up on the blues singalong Saturdays with Jarvis Church?

Various - Sven Väth: What I Used To Play (CD2)

Cocoon Recordings: 2023

By the by, I wasn't kidding in suspecting part of the reason this compilation was made was for the boutique vinyl market. In fact, I can't help but think it's the sole reason, as the record option features twelve 12”s. Yes, that means only one or two tracks per side! Which hey, is kinda' handy for record collectors who don't want the fuss of scouring the internet for original (or re-issues upon re-issues) of all these tunes. Yeah, some of this is undoubtedly redundant for serious black crack enthusiasts – having New Order's Blue Monday is almost mandatory for any proper collection – but at least they're all here in one box-set with Sven's seal of approval, right?

Speaking of, if I must levy a major nitpick over What I Used To Play, it's that the presentation is rather bare-bones. The included booklet just features all the various mug shots of Mr. Väth in the cover's collage. There's no liner notes about the tracks, no written blurbs about their history or what they mean to Sven's career. Not even some insight into his early days as a DJ at Dorian Gray in the '80s or setting up Omen later that decade. Highly detailed historical context doesn't seem to be the point of What I Used To Play, letting the music speak for itself. I suppose if you really wanted to know that stuff, you can easily find it all over the internet. Again, disappointing if you wanted more out of this compilation, but far from a deal breaker as a whole.

After an opening salvo of synth-heavy new wave music (holy cow, is Anne Clark's Our Darkness ever an early precursor to New Beat!), disc number two brings us to the midlands of American. That's right, folks, we got our acid (Phuture), we got our Detroit techno (Model 500), and we got Chicago house (Frankie Knuckles and Quest). Okay, hearing No UFO's and Your Love is rather redundant in my case, but at least Sven picked the less obvious We Are Phuture over Acid Tracks, not to mention a real obscurity in Quest's Mind Games (Street Mix). See, there's some merit to this compilation for even the hardiest of crate diggers!

Then CD2 takes turn for the ...world beat? Okay, not really, as that was really a thing yet in the '80s. More like jazz fusion musicians fusing whatever they could get away with, and if that included some Afro chant with drum machines, so be it. So we get the epic fifteen-minute digital drum jam of Jasper Van't Hof's Pili Pili, the pure percussive workout of Guem Et Zaka Percussion's Le Serpent, the Afro trumpet-boogie vibes of Hugh Masekela's Don't Go Loose It Baby, and the... wait, hip-hop of Sly & Robbie? I thought these guys were reggae and dancehall. What are they doing here sounding like something straight out of the vaults of Rick Rubin? Never would have expect such guitar shredding from these chaps.

Pantha Du Prince - Black Noise

Rough Trade: 2010

I reviewed Pantha du Prince's The Triad a while ago, but kinda' forgot about it. Then some songs from it happened upon my playlists, causing me to take pause and reflect: “I think I actually like this guy's music to explore further.” Where to start digging though? The very beginning with Diamond Daze? Mm, maybe not, its shoegazey micro-haus vibes always prompting quick skips when sampling through Spotify. This Bliss, then, the one that broke Mr. Weber... well, not all the way into clubbing consciousness, but enough such that it got Very Important electronic music journalists buzzing. Perhaps I will, but at a later time, when that album's “Oh yes, it's definitely peak minimal tech-haus” attributes don't cause as much PTSD in yours truly. Conference Of Trees? What is this, person of the year 2020? I'm doing this dig in 2018.

Thus, it falls to Black Noise, the Pantha Du Prince album I'm sure everyone has, even if they're not a Pantha Du Prince fan. Without hearing a single bell tone or marimba strike or groovy bassine, you're instantly drawn in by the lovely painting of St. Bartholomew's Church. Then you hear praise and plaudits from across the continent, intriguing you further for an impulse purchase. It certainly got the attention of music journalists beyond traditional clubland:The Guardian, Uncut, Spin, Clash (fashion mag?), and ...The Irish Times? Wow, deep find there, Wiki.

I've given Black Noise multiple plays since getting it, yet I'm still struggling to 'get it', if you get me. Absolutely I 'get' what I'm supposed to 'get', be amazed at all the clever use of multiple mallet instruments and how much sonic space is left among them to breathe upon the simple steady grooves. I dunno though, some tracks on here come off trying to be too clever for their own sake, layering things in such a way that it mimics glitch production. Some portion of my brain though – the 'dumb' part, I guess – wants something to hook it in, and only occasionally does that happen, mostly in the straight-forward dancefloor tunes (A Nomad's Retreat, Satellite Snyper, Bohemian Forest). The percussion showcases of the first few tracks on this album come off cluttered to my ears, though Bohemian Forest does get that balance down right, while Welt Am Draht's dreamy vibe reminds me of what I liked about The Triad so much.

Anything else? Oh yeah, that other big selling point that got indie mags looking into Black Noise, the collaboration with Noah Lennox. Some of you may know him as Panda Bear, others as part of Animal Collective; a big f'n deal in that scene, is what I'm saying. No snark, I quite like Stick To My Side, Pantha's dubby rhythmic treatments and sparse bell tones creating a nifty moody atmosphere. Panda Bear comes in and does his vocal thing, but I'm all about those slowly escalating strings, the song peaking out quite nicely. Black Noise could have used a couple more of these.

VAST - Visual Audio Sensory Theater

Elektra: 1998

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

I feel like I should know this album. Maybe not so much who the band is or what music is in it, but just the cover art alone. It's rather striking, the sort of eye-catching image that leaps out at you from store shelves, locking you in pupil-to-pupil, soul-to-soul. Okay, not that deep, but plenty 'nuff to grab wandering gazes in for a closer look. I never saw it though, and believe me, I was in prime territory to have spotted it somewhere in Vancouver shops when it first dropped. Did it languish in obscurity at first, only gaining notoriety once songs started getting featured in shows like Angel and Smallville?

But that's neither here nor there, as I usually like going into these albums as cold as possible, my initial impressions as pure as freshly fallen snow. And initial impressions sure had me transported back to the late '90s, opening song Here having heavy emphasis on industrial-grade rhythms, crunchy guitars, orchestral swells, and angst-ridden singing. This is the sort of stuff that, while I wouldn't say was popular, had more than enough grandiose production behind that it could get popular, if it got featured in the right movies or TV shows. Which is apparently what happened, after a while.

So I continue listening through VAST's self-titled debut (that is what 'VAST' stands for, right?), and I'm hearing an interesting mix of alternative rock, industrial production, and world music – so many looping Gregorian chant samples, I almost think I'm back in a rasion d'être album. And as is my tendency when listening to a new artist, my inclination towards comparison of other acts I'm familiar with begins. The one that first pops in my mind is Canadian band The Tea Party, who blended industrial and alt-rock as well, though that may be entirely due to the track Three Doors, which uses Arabic scales much like The Tea Party often did.

That's not quite right though. The Tea Party is a three-piece, where each member was part and parcel to the ensemble. Despite the expert production on Visual Audio Sensory Theater, I couldn't help but feel the songwriting was rather singular. Like, a Trent Reznor sort of deal, the music the vision of one man, with band members in support. Turns out that was absolutely the case, Jon Crosby the main mind behind VAST, and I'm far from the only person to make the Trent Reznor comparison. I just find it funny that I came to that shared conclusion before reading anything about it.

Does this put this album on the same plane as, say, The Fragile? Eh, not really. Though the NIN comparison is inevitable, Crosby isn't quite at the level at Reznor, especially in vocal delivery. It sometimes felt like he was struggling to reach the same level of angst ol' Trent effortlessly achieves. That leaves me with an album that sounds 'good enough', but not something I'm anxious for another playthrough anytime soon.

Cottonbelly - X Amounts Of Niceness (NYC Sessions 1993-2004)

Wrong Records: 2004

Way, way, way back in the early days of TranceCritic, I'd post lists of albums I'd bought with intention to review, updating it with each purchase. Figured it was a handy way of letting our scant readership know what to expect, when I'd average around one review every two weeks (such work ethic). I usually met my quota, but one item I listed continuously popped up on those lists that never materialized was this particular collection of tunes produced by Cottonbelly. I simply had no clue how to approach it. While by no means the most obscure thing I'd have thrown up on the fledgling website, I still had scant information to work with. There wasn't much in the way of liner notes to help, Lord Discogs was still in its early stages of utility, and I was too lazy to search the wider web for whatever knowledge nuggets might be floating out there. Besides, who reading a 'trance' website would care about a dubby, jazzy, world-fusion, downtempo guy? Okay, a second one – Bill Laswell was already pushing it.

But finally, Mr. Cottonbelly's time to shine has come at last, even if only at the tail end of a years-long, insane project I've inflicted upon myself. And fortunately, there's more Discogian Data at my disposal than ever before! Not that there's much there anyway, X Amount Of Niceness the only long-player to his credit. Truthfully, he was more known as a remixer, of which many of his works are collected here. The first tune I ever heard from Cottonbelly was, in fact, a remix of Noiseshaper's The Only Redeemer, plus that nifty Tempest Dub tune that appeared on Quango Records' Dub Selector compilation. Surprisingly, that cut doesn't appear on here, though one of his earliest works do, in Edge Test 1 from 1993. That came out on Edge Records, a label established by Gordon Matthewman. Hm, Cottonbelly's real name is Stuart Matthewman. Might these be brothers? If so, that was awfully nice of Gordon to give Stuart a break like that. I wonder what other credits Stuart Matthewman has. *dives down the Discogs hole* Oh! Oh my...!

Turns out Mr. Matthewman is a member of Sade, the British soul-jazz group with huge hits throughout the '80s. They went on hiatus after 1992's Love Deluxe, so Stuart pursued his own musical interests as Cottonbelly throughout the '90s. This included doing remixes for Gregory Isaacs (Night Nurse), The Ananda Project (I Hear You Dreaming), Maxwell (Luxery), and Cirque Du Soleil (Africa ...no, really!). In the meanwhile, he carried on making his own brand of dubby reggae jams, comfortably rubbing shoulders with the likes of Kruder, Dorfmiester and Thievery Corporation.

All his works are definitely of a 'niceness' quality, and he probably could have maintained a tidy solo career in the downtempo scene to this day. However, when Sade reconvened in the new millennium, it effectively put an end to the Cottonbelly era of Mr. Matthewman's discography. Too busy touring, I guess.

Various - Winter Chill 2

Hed Kandi: 2000

Something funny happened in the year between the first Winter Chill and its inevitable sequel: chill-out music as a commercial juggernaut became a thing. For sure it's always had a marketable undercurrent within club culture, dating as far back as when The KLF specifically made an album to chill out to called Chill Out. Whether it be ambient dub, Balearic jazz, trippy hip-hop, or whatever trendy, laid-back vibe was currently circulating, mentally exhausted punters could always rely on a few selections in the music shops to ease their frazzled brains. Then someone in the high towers of record labels realized there were more folks out there who could use a little downtime music in their lives than the Ecstasy Generation, and chill-out compilations suddenly exploded upon the scene with several CDs featuring the same songs you already had in a different order. Sure as shit Hed Kandi wasn't immune to this trend.

Think I'm exaggerating? Second track on Winter Chill 2: Moby's Porcelain. Third track: Chicane's No Ordinary Morning. Fourth track: Delerium's Silence. Tenth track: Thievery Corporation's Lebanese Blonde. CD1 also features songs from Bent, Goldfrapp, Dusted, A Guy Called Gerald, and The Beloved. You getting a sense of familiarity yet? Hell, CD2 opens with Paul van Dyk's Vega! Yeah, it's a nice enough chill tune, Mr. Van Dyk having a stab at jazzstep, but these are all darn obvious names to have on a chill-out collection, even for the year 2000 when the concept still had a fresh fragrance. The series did course correct in later volumes, though Winter Chill itself only lasted six volumes before Hed Kandi was bought out by Ministry Of Sound, save a one-off return in 2012. You bet your bottom dollar its got nothing to do with 'chill-out' music!

Back to Winter Chill 2, even Hed Kandi head-man Mark Doyle knew including the likes of Moby, Delerium, and Paul van Dyk was little more than a shameless commercial tactic to lure in the impulse buy, and thus ignores such artists in his inlay notes. Instead, he once again big-ups his label's own talent like the jazzier Afterlife and Urban Dwellers, which is fair play if you're having them rub shoulders with chill-out's newest stars.

If all this 'suburban downtempo' music isn't cutting it for you, there's always CD2. Vega aside, this is where most of the trip-hop and acid jazz vibes are hiding out, many tracks care of the rising Studio K7! that Mr. Doyle was quite eager in hyping. Thus you find Tosca, Terranova, Smith & Mighty, Handsome Boy Modeling School (Dan The Automator!), and... LTJ Bukem? Well, he did have a debut album out that same year. And yeah, CD2 is definitely more of the downtempo vibe I prefer in compilations of this sort, with plenty of smooth, smokey rhythms, soulful strings, dubby atmosphere, and sultry vocals throughout. As a means of introducing music on a proper deep tip to soccer moms who bought this for Silence, I'd say Winter Chill 2 does right.

Bill Laswell - Axiom Ambient: Lost In Translation

Axiom: 1994

A curious double-LP, this one, though not for any of the music within. As this is a Bill Laswell ambient dub album from his peak ambient dub music making years, you can bet your bottom dollar it’s filled with swirly sounds, jazzy grooves, ethnic samplings, and that bass tone. Nay, what’s rather confounding about Axiom Ambient: Lost In Translation is exactly what sort of release this is. There’s so many collaborations on here, such that I wonder whether ‘Axiom Ambient’ could be construed as a project name rather than an album title – it wouldn’t be the first time Mr. Laswell took on an unique moniker for yet another venture with his huge evergrowing population of associates that rules from the center of the bassworld.

Oh yeah, The Orb is on this album. It doesn’t clarify which member of The Orb is here though, and as this is a ’94 release, it could very well be a member that most definitely is no longer a member, and will never again be a member, so help him Gaia. On the other hand, it could have been Dr. Paterson dropping by Laswell’s house for a toke-n-smoke, fiddling with some effects overtop Aum while enjoying the buzz, then giving his blessing to use The Orb brand for marketing purposes. Who’s in charge of that stuff at head Orb office anyway?

Plenty more folks Laswell knows through the rock, jazz, funk, and world-fusion scenes drop by too. Many you probably know: George Clinton, Bootsy Collins, Pharoah Sanders, Buckethead, and Tetsu Inoue. Lesser number you may know: Jah Wobble, Terre Thaemlitz, Eddie Hazel, and Sonny Sharrock. And if you’re familiar with Ginger Baker, Nicky Skopelitis, and Liu Sola, well damn, Mr. John Peel, how are things in the Afterlife? Some material is remixed from other Axiom releases (including Material), but mostly we’re dealing with all original music here.

There’s a lot about Axiom Ambient that can come off terribly pretentious at first glance. Each CD features four extra-long tracks, separated into movements themselves. That Orb collaboration, Aum, has four segments alone, titled Soul Searcher, Praying Mantra (Second Attention), Tarab Scan, and Ritual In Transfigured Time. If you think that’s a bit much, the liner notes have two pages going on about the mystical healing nature of world fusion ambient within a heightened global consciousness. Hey, fine if you vibe on psychik chakras and that, but most of it comes off as ostentatious waffle to my eyes, and rather dated to ‘90s alt-life optimism.

Fortunately, it’s what’s going into my ears that matters, and Axiom Ambient is a surprisingly immersive experience once it gets going. Laswell displays plenty skill and finesse, melding the various contributions from tons of talented musicians into a trippy, relaxing journey. Orchestral swells, mystic chants, guitar jams, techno thumps, calming drones, Far East winds, and best of all, none of it feels like superfluous meandering. Go figure that the longest Laswell album I’ve covered is his most engaging from front to back.

Various - Strange-Eyed Constellations

Disco Gecko: 2015

A little late to the compilation game, aren’t we, Mr. Marks? True, it’s only in recent years ol’ Toby’s started using his Disco Gecko print as something more than an outlet for all his Banco de Gaia back-catalog, but this market has grown incredibly niche since he got his break on similar CDs way back when. You could find fashionable ‘ambient collections’ with distinct themes on nearly every store shelf in ’92, but while there’s no drought for new material these days, you don’t see much consolidation of the music beyond label manifestos. Tobes mentions in this CD’s liner notes a long-gestating intent at doing something similar to the old Ambient Dub series though, so better late than never?

Still, Strange-Eyed Constellations doesn’t have much concept behind it other than being a gathering of musicians and music that Mr. Marks fancies. This ranges from long-time compatriots like Andy Guthrie and James Eller, more recent associates like AstroPilot, Dr. Trippy, Temple Hedz, and Andrew Heath, plus inclusions from completely new-to-Discogs names like Project Transmissions and Oombata Key. Now that’s how you diversify a compilation: lure ‘em in with the familiar, exposing the overlooked in the process. Toby’s done his research here.

As we’re dealing with the man behind Banco de Gaia, Strange-Eyed Constellations obviously features a lot of ethnic-fusion sort of music. Hah, no, Marks has evolved some since those Last Train To Lhasa days, going far more ambient and musically abstract than cribbing a few worldly chants and slapping a dance beat underneath. AstroPilot’s opener Dum Spíro, Spéro does the space ambient thing, with the next clutch of tracks going rather ethereal. A song titled Sirens Of Lorelei, yeah, I’d be rather disappointed if I wasn’t getting the Wiccan vibe on, and that carries through Radium88’s The Future’s Bright, The Future’s Incandescent.

The middle of the compilation (stop thinking Starry-Eyed Sunrise, dammit), gets more to the ethnical influences, though are mostly subdued offerings of world music, much less ‘beat’ despite the nods to dubbier production about. Makes sense, given Marks’ longtime aversion to the term ‘world beat’ in the first place, and he doesn’t hesitate in throwing in a couple curveballs along the way (James Eller’s It’s Beautiful Mike, It Really Is is a dead-ringer for classic Pink Floyd). Dimensions from Temple Hedz is closer to the contemporary Banco mold, though given the two tracks Marks offers himself, what even is the Banco sound anymore? To The Nth Degree sounds like an amalgamation of Andrew Heath, AstroPilot, and Floyd, while Falling Tides under his own name sees ol’ Toby going full Heath for himself. Not to be outdone, Andrew closes the compilation out with a bit of planetarium piano doodling in Epiphany. Much lovely, ‘tis.

Strange-Eyed Constellations has a few fluffy, forgettable moments, with some tracks blending indistinguishably between others, but it’s definitely all in the Disco Gecko mold. If you figured Marks’ label was nothing but Banco de Gaia retreads, this compilation provides a proper ear opener.

Dao Da Noize - Kalam

Psychonavigation Records: 2012

Thirty albums in a half-decade? Hell, that's just what Lord Discogs lists as official LPs. Another twenty ‘Miscellaneous’ items fill out Dao Da Noize's discography thus far, mostly tapes and extremely-limited CDr offerings. Oddly, Kalam is included in this category, though I've no idea why. Pyschonavigation Records isn't some ultra-obscure print operating out of a Winnebago in the New Mexico desert. It's a semi-obscure label with a Dublin office drawing in ambient techno producers and IDM-leaning artists like a '90s throwback singularity. Yeah, Kalam is also a limited-run CD, but so are ninety-percent of niche genre releases now.

Clearly then, the man behind Dao Da Noize, Artem Pismenetskii, is something of a Merzbow or Muslimegauze sort, an endless source of noisy experimental music. Glancing through what Lord Discogs has on his releases (you just know there’s more thus far not entered), he has an interest in sounds from across Asia. Early work from the ye’ olde year of 2011 featured quite a few Japanese inspired productions, with a slow sojourn towards the West as time’s passed. Say, maybe he’s retracing the ancient Silk Road like Kitaro! He's released on tons of different labels too: Dark Meadow Recordings, Palemoon Productions, 4iB Records, Trap Door Tapes, Vomit Bucket Productions, Shit Noise Records, Fuck The Industry, Maniacal Hatred, Autistic Campaign, Sincope, Stront, Smell The Stench, Genetic Trance... I swear Dao Da Noize releases one thing on some backwater print, then moves on to another. Who knows how Psychonavigation Records fits into this. Maybe label head Keith Downey is a fan.

By the by, that Muslimgauze namedrop is an intentional, if awkward segue into Kalam, Mr. Pismenetskii stating it a deliberate tribute to the late Bryn Jones (he of an insane amount of output within a fifteen year timespan). Though Muslimgauze wasn’t Muslim, he did focus his muse on the sounds of Arabia (especially Palestine), overdubbing samples and recordings of the region into all manner of crusty beats, layered drone, noisy effects, and Middle Eastern tributes.

As such, Dao Da Noize gets right into it with Kalam I, tablas clunking away, distant chants in the background, and an ear-piercing attack of white noise distortion and bass dub bombs overwhelming your senses. Guess that’s what it’s like living in a war torn region. Kalam II, at twenty minutes in length, reuses many of the same elements as the first, though takes its time in developing, mostly going for dubbed-out trippiness for a while before bringing the tablas back in. The finish is more urgent in pacing, but subdued in tone. A shorter Kalam III throws in more industrial noise and children laughter, then Kalam IV grows dark and moody, very little percussion used. It’s also twenty-five minutes long, so if you like your eerie ethnic dub, you’ll dig this one.

I was surprised I liked Kalam as much as I did. Hell, when I first threw it on, I had no idea what to expect. Such fun adventures of discovery, these label splurges are.

Peter Gabriel - So

Geffen Records: 1986

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

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

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

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

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

Adham Shaikh - Resonance - Selected Ambient Works

Sonicturtle Records/Black Swan Sounds: 2010/2013

Hearing Adham Shaikh branch out into music with more tempo and groove is all well and good, but it was his ambient productions that got me digging deeper. Still, though he'd mostly left that part of his career in the '90s, it didn't stop him from composing pieces in his spare time or for other projects. Prominent among these were sounds and scores for various, small-budget films and documentaries, mostly dealing with things like spiritualism, activism, and yogaism. And while they didn’t lead to anything officially released on the market, he kept those works on hand should their ever be an opportunity to make use of them. Turns out there was, in the number of recommendations from associates and friends that told ol’ Adham that he needed to make these available to all us common folk out here in the music wilds. Hey, if it worked for Aphex Twin, why not Adham Shaikh? Oh yes you better believe the Selected Ambient Works sub-title was gonna’ get remarked upon. Uh, that’s I got on that.

Anyhow, I can’t deny once again having preconceived notions of what Resonance would be going in. A return to Journey To The Sun, mayhaps, or a fresh take on ambient dub, as so many ethnic fusion types often do. Heck, even something deeply meditative again would be interesting, just to hear if Mr. Shaikh had picked up some new techniques in composing such music.

Instead, we’re dealing with pieces that are very much score orientated, some sounding not all that dissimilar to the piano and drone works of early Brian Eno (Ambient Dream, Warm Hope, Fibonacci Spriral Song, Opaquealyptic), though with a slight worldy twist. Others tread close to the New Age realm with their heavy mystical and spiritual vibe (Voices Of Hope, Om Shanti Shanti), not a surprising development given Mr. Shaikh’s deep involvement in the yoga scene. A few pieces go all in with traditional sounds like woodwinds and string instruments (Mountains Of The World, For The Heart of The World, Dew Daisy), and a few more run for lengthier times (Gayatri Mantra, Satori), suggesting not everything on Resonance was intended for visual accompaniment. Or maybe they were inspired by credits sequences.

That was my initial trouble with Resonance, where I couldn’t disassociate the music from its original intent of score compositions. It was still enjoyable on that level of course, but without seeing the films, I felt something was lacking. Mind you, it didn’t help I was playing these in the background, never quite focusing on the music. Until it came time for the standard ‘in MP3 player, on headphones, walk’ playthrough anyway, which I always do before writing a review (daily commutes help with this). With my attention properly focused then, my goodness did this music ever open up to my ears! Those stunning, captivating ambient textures that wooed me in Journey To The Sun, they were all here, lurking underneath, waiting to seduce an attentive mind. How’s he keep doing this?

Fallen - Secrets Of The Moon

Tranquillo Records: 2015

Why did neo-folky Lorenzo Bracaloni choose the alias of Fallen for his new project? There’s so many Fallens out there. Lord Discogs lists at least a dozen who’ve taken on the moniker prior to Bracaloni. For that matter, why even use a whole new alias? Is his material as The Child Of A Creek just too different from what he provides in this CD? Huh, I guess I should take a listen to some of those albums just to be sure. With five LPs out there, a couple ought to be on the Spotifys or Bandcamps for a quick perusal. I’ll be right back.

And I’m back. Wow, Lord Discogs wasn’t kidding when it described The Child Of A Creek as neo-folk. Half the time I feel like I’m in some medieval fantasy book or a quieter moment out of the Witcher series, but with added contemporary treatments like ambient synth washes or prog-rock guitar echoes. Neat stuff, though I can’t say it’s a sound I actively search for. Oh, and aside from similar influences in instrumentation, nothing like the music on this album of Secrets Of The Moon.

For one thing, there’s no singing for the Fallen – we’re dealing with instrumental-only pieces here. I wouldn’t call it pure ambient though, as there’s a steady, rhythmic pulse throughout most of these tracks, either as traditional percussion but sometimes complemented with an electronic bassline too. It takes elements of New Age meditation folk and jettisons all the bits that makes that music so tepid and sap, rather like TUU in their heyday (please tell me you still remember TUU). I also get something of a krautrock vibe here, mostly of that genre’s quieter moments with synth effects and echoing guitar. By and large though, we’re in the realms of outdoor chill music as enjoyed in the cool, summer twilight, a light mist obscuring the moon high in the sky. Oh, what secrets Luna holds on this particular night, wonder thee (rocks; it’s mostly rocks).

Particulars, then, because I need to burn a little more word count here. A mere six tracks make up Secrets Of The Moon, each lengthy but not tediously so, placing the album at about a breezy fifty-five minutes. The longest of these (and the titular cut) goes through a few movements but generally returns to a somber oboe melody with dark pads in support. The second longest track, Cosmos, opens with minimalist drone, soon giving way to Middle Eastern percussion and lengthy synth passages before finally erupting in bright synth-drone washes and distant guitars. Elsewhere, shorter pieces Ravenhand prominently features a santoor, Of Dreams allows the electric guitar centre stage, and Golden Dust has a very ethereal gothic vibe going for it.

So this was a fun little bit of exploration. Like The Child Of A Creek, I can’t say I’m inclined to check out future Fallen (14) efforts, but it was worth getting out of my comfort zone for Secrets Of The Moon.

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

Triloka Records: 2000

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)


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

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

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

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

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

The Future Sound Of London - Environment Five

fsoldigital.com: 2014

Considering the seemingly endless volumes of From The Archives and, to a lesser extent, Environments, The Future Sound Of London must have had shed-fulls of unused material stored. At least with Environments, they gradually sprinkled in some new stuff too, helping create distinctive album narratives between each edition. And now finally - finally - Dougans and Cobain either found enough inspiration to craft an entirely new album of fresh music under the FSOL banner, or they've used up their entire backlog.

I’ll get the bad news regarding that out of the way: as we’re dealing entirely with post-millennial FSOL here, you bet your bottom dollar Environment Five goes deep into the psychedelic bubble, an attribute that has made their Amorphous Androgynous material a bit of a chore for all but the most dedicated listeners. No, wait a second, that’s not bad news in the slightest! Why shoulda musically dynamic duo remain stuck making tunes they hashed out two decades hence? They can’t very well go around claiming themselves the Future Sound Of London if they don’t keep pushing themselves in finding what future sounds they can craft (for London). Going avant-garde psychedelic-classicalism is good news!

The better-good news is, as Environment Five is all new material, it means Dougans and Cobain had a specific theme in mind while composing this album. Not that the previous Environments lacked themes, but those felt cobbled together - tracks served in creating general moods or milieus, but having little to do with each other. Five, on the other hand, flows like an album proper, with lengthy set pieces, short quiet interludes, and musical ideas and leitmotifs sprinkled throughout. Seriously, they sure love using that... saxophone? I think it’s a saxophone, but knowing these guys, it could be a Tibetan reed-woodwind that only sounds like a saxophone, or even an overlay of the two.

Anyhow, the PR blurbs described Environment Five as an exploration of death. No, not in a morbid, goth manner – there’s more sense of spiritual awakening and contemplation with the music here, as though death is a release from our limited, mortal shells, with realms both grand and humbling awaiting us to explore. Definitely an ambitious venture, and the music does offer tantalizing glimpses. There’s sombre pianos (Source Of Uncertainty, Viewed From Below The Surface), minimalist electro-dub (Machines Of The Subconscious), ethno-fusion baroque (Dying While Being Held), creepy cinematic ambient (Beings Of Light, The Dust Settles), future-shock freak-outs (Somatosensory), and jubilant psychedelic world-beat (In Solitude We Are Least Alone).

Honestly though, this concept of ‘death experiences’ isn’t iron-clad, at least compared to some of FSOL’s earlier concept albums (Lifeforms, Dead Cities). It’s nice they gave us something to latch onto if we’re so inclined, but as a collection of new The Future Sound Of London musics, it’s an enjoyable play-through regardless. Well, so long as you’re not still clinging to Papua New Guinea retreads. Let some of those prog rocks jams worm their way into your eternal being, guy.

Open Canvas - Nomadic Impressions

Groove Unlimited/Waveform Records: 1997/1998

I bang on Waveform Records quite a bit, but truth be told, there was a period I'd all but given up on the label. Something about their late '90s output never clicked with me, which was grade-A nimrodery on my part since I was only going by cover art. One should never judge a body of music by its CD design, yet with the tacky CGI of Ancient Alien (based on a video game, no less) and silliness of Earthjuice (even the name was a head-scratcher), you'd forgive me for thinking Waveform was slipping. Not helping matters was this particular album from Open Canvas, looking like the sort of New Age pap you'd find in stores surrounded by chakra crystal stones, or whatever. Hell, I couldn't even tell whether Open Canvas was the name of the artist or the album – maybe both, for all I knew. I became a fan of Waveform because they opened my ears to a world of chill-out of more substance than Deep Forest and Enya, not because they offered more of the same.

Man, could I be an entitled brat about my music listening habits back then. What I didn’t realize at the time was Waveform was in the process of branching out from its early ambient techno and dub sound cribbed from Beyond, a plan that included dipping their toes into earthly, meditative ambient music. Yeah, yeah, that sounds dangerously close to New Age, but again, I should have had more faith in Waveform to not cross that divide. While I’ve yet to hear every album they’ve put out in this vein, what I have heard always retains a degree of sophistication often lacking in run-of-the-mill New Age, music that invokes captivating imagery with its soothing calm.

Tuu was the first of these acts to find a re-distribution deal with Waveform. Another early name was Gregory Kyryluk, who’s released several ambient albums as Alpha Wave Movement. Less frequently, he’s released music as Open Canvas, where he indulges in Middle Eastern harmonies and vistas. I guess that was enough similarity to some of the world-beat leaning acts Waveform had already put out for the label to give a re-distribution deal for Mr. Kyryluk’s first album under this alias.

I can’t say I was convinced of the Open Canvas stylee after the first few tracks here. It’s not that they’re cliché or devoid of musical substance – I simply didn’t hear anything terribly unique in Mr. Kyryluk’s song craft. It’s rather like hearing the moody score to a low budget TV series, but without any visual frame of reference.

Yet somehow, as Nomadic Impressions plays through, I find myself caught up in his sparse, desert vistas. I’m no longer sitting in a chair watching an Arabian caravan or desert marketplace - I’m actually in that setting! Well damn, that’s all I was hoping for at the start of this venture. Why couldn’t I have just let myself be swept in to start with? Oh, right, that cover...

Dub Trees - Nature Never Did Betray The Heart That Loved Her

LSD - Liquid Sound Design: 2000

This is the sort of CD that was destined for an 'impulse buy'. Fifty bones to drop in the music shop, with so many familiar artists floating about; yet rather predictable in what you'll get on a disc. No, I'll hold off on getting another progressive trance DJ mix or deep house label compilation. I want something new and unexpected, but just familiar enough that it won't possibly be a total waste of money. There, that CD with 'Dub Trees' on the cover. I know dub music, and with a hippie-dippy title like Nature Never Did Betray The Heart That Loved Her, I've a good feeling the music will be something like Waveform Records. Hm, Youth's the main producer here. I feel like I should know that name. Oh well, Dragonfly Records usually releases psy-trance, so maybe we'll get some Planet Dog type of psychedelic dub stuff.

Yeah, we got that, and more. For a psy-dub album, Nature Never etc. etc. is remarkably diverse, Youth dipping his dubby toes deep into various forms of the genre. For his dub roots run deep, like a tree, yo' – you could even say *dons dreadlock wig* he's a Dub Tree, yeaaahh, mon! Wait, that wasn’t a pun?

Anyhow, Martin Glover had been floating about various music scenes for a while, most famously playing bass in post-punk band Killing Joke and contributing to early albums from The Orb and System 7. Along the way he got sucked into the world of goa trance, and even found time to set up a label promoting the stuff. He must have gotten right proper inspired by the emerging psy-dub sounds that were carrying on from what Dr. Alex Paterson and he had kicked off with ambient dub, taking his own stab at it with this one-off Dub Trees project. Roping in for music contributions were long-time producing partner Greg Hunter, plus Simon Posford, fresh off his first Shpongle LP. Indian world-dub fusion group Suns Of Arqa also contribute, but no Bill Laswell, because Dub Trees already gots them a bass player, mang.

With so many influences thrown into this dub soup, Nature Never yada yada yada is about as offbeat and eclectic as this music can go without stepping outside its comfort zone. There are straight-up reggae rhythms (Butterfly Trilogy), synthy interludes (Cobalt Waterfall), quirky sampling (Buffalo, La Rosa), dark meditative excursions (Orpheus), opium dens flying through space (Dreamlab), psy-dub grooves (Magnetica), and goof-ball bass drops (Concrete Tourist). All of which, natch, filtered through more dub effects than you can shake a King Tubby at.

If all this sounds like “just another trippy dub album”, you’re right, although Youth’s definitely a better song crafter than most out there, having rubbed shoulders with so many masters of the genre. This album also acts as a sort of bridge between ambient dub of the ‘90s, and psy-dub of the ‘00s, not a bad thing if you’ve endlessly debated the merits of either. Does anyone even do that?

Loreena McKennitt - Live In Paris And Toronto

Quinlan Road: 1999

When I lived in the hinterlands of Canada, I rented in a house with various other roomers who'd come and go. As I was the one with a decent stereo, my gear took up residence in the living room, where I'd often load the 3-CD tray with my own music. Fair enough, as my housemates shared similar tastes, what with being 'Rupert Ravers' and all. Every so often though, I'd play a combination of albums that threw them for a loop. One such day included a run of some EDM (I forget which now), the Hieroglyphics LP 3rd Eye Blind (“homie-b” music, the girl living with us called it), followed by this particular album from ethereal Celtic-folk artist Loreena McKennitt. They remarked how little sense it made for me to have such bizarre range of interest (for a 20 year old, anyway), and while hip-hop still had some connection to EDM, how did Loreena fit the puzzle of my interests?

It was likely my mother's influence, who was into Enya and all that New Age stuff when it broke into the early ‘90s mainstream (yeah yeah, total cliché there). Enigma was also a part of her musical rotation of the time, which led to ambient and world beat I still enjoy, but another act she liked was Loreena McKennitt. I... didn't quite latch onto her the same way, though my sister did. Hm, guess that makes sense, Enigma's 'tough' beats appealing to male sensibilities (no, stay with me on this theory!), and Ms. McKennitt's harps and singing more of a chick’s thing. What gender stereotypes?

Okay, sorry for that lengthy, anecdotal introduction. I felt it necessary to explain why, on a blog called Electronic Music Critic, there's also a live Loreena McKennitt album here. I've strayed off the EDM path often, but this must be the furthest I’ve gone yet. I don’t think there are any other ethereal Celtic folk-pop records in my collection, so at least it’s a one-off.

For those unaware of McKennitt, she gained international fame mostly through association with the New Age market. While her music is definitely of an Irish and Celtic tradition, she imbued her music with mystical qualities that set herself apart from staunch traditionalists, an incredibly appealing attribute for ladies into fantasy works and that; the guys had their Viking metal, the girls got their Arthurian romanticism (was this all Excaliber’s fault?). While having a deal with Warner Music gave McKennitt greater exposure (especially here in Canada, where the Winnipeg native enjoyed plenty of Canadian Content rotation), she’s remained an independent artist, self-producing and publishing her music through her own Quinlan Road print. Proper underground t’ings, mon! (whoops, wrong sub-culture)

There’s plenty more to her story, but I’m not the best person to detail it. Maybe try Ethereal Celtic Music Critic. All you need to know from my end is I liked her music enough to get a live album of it (essentially a greatest hits package), and that’s about it.

Cheb i Sabbah - La Kahena

Six Degrees Records: 2005

Okay, I needed that break from this blog. Juggling it with near full-time work and scholastic endeavors was just too much to deal with. Brain drain on the job, coupled with necessary research and study for essays, there was nothing left in the think-tank for music reviews, even ones as concise as the ones I write here. This semester’s over now, so let’s get back to electronic music criticism. What’s next in my alphabetical list, then? Cheb i Sabbah’s La Kahena? Uh, what the heck is this? Traditional Middle Eastern music? I don’t know a damn thing about this stuff. I… need to research some of this. Oh, God, no! I beg of you, no more researching! My brain can’t take- *grey matter implodes*

Right, I should have known Six Degrees Records would release just as much proper 'world music' as their world beat offerings, but how was I to know Cheb i Sabbah would put together a project of this nature? I've only known of the chap through his DJ gigs (almost primarily at hippie trance parties), and few scattered productions on regular world dub-beat compilations. It was enough to pique my curiosity enough to pick up La Kahena blind, and hoo, was this something I was not expecting in the slightest.

I won't deny enjoying the music here, but it’s on a 'dumb' level, the sort of basic musical appreciation that comes with most things of a rhythmic, melodic, or harmonic nature. Despite the use of drum programming and synth effects, La Kehena is about as traditional as this music gets. Which tradition, you ask? I... honestly don't know. I'm guessing it's Middle Eastern, though maybe North African too, given it was recorded in Morocco. Bottom line is I have no cultural connection to this album (much less able to understand the language it's sung in), so any significance of content beyond “cool beat, neat sounds, heartfelt passion; me like” is utterly lost on my way-Western sensibilities. Maybe if I do a little resear- *grey matter implodes*

Mr. Sabbah must have strongly believed in the potential of this album, as he rounded up tons of musicians to perform on it (how much he contributes, I haven't a clue). Oh, there's Bill Laswell again, doing bass. Karsh Kale, a Six Degrees alum, also shows up. I don't recognize anyone else here. Hell, I don't even recognize some of the instruments they play. An oud? A ney? You got me, names sounding about as foreign as I'm sure a dobro sounds to folks of Yemen. Whatever they are, I bet they sound good on this 5.1 Dolby mixdown I sadly cannot enjoy (damn paper-thin apartment walls).

Is La Kehena worth your time? Sure, I guess. At worst, it'll expose you to a form of music that's just as lively as anything you'll hear in a club, perhaps more so by tapping into the communal nature of such performances. In the end, it's a great educa- *grey matter implodes*