Bubble - Airless

Mushy Records: 2005

I've never mentioned this, but my 2005 re-entry into the world of psy-trance was via a promo package sent to me from the now defunct Boa Distribution. Included in that package was Electro Sun's Pure Blue, the compilation Buckle Up, Vol. 2: Trancelucent Garage (aka: that one with the tacky cartoon of naked chicks), and the downtempo collection of Unwind: A Journey Into Global Grooves. Unbeknownst to everyone though, there was a fourth CD in that bundle, one I found so shockingly bad, I couldn't in good conscience write a review of it too. Okay, it wasn't so much I'd feel guilty on ripping a new artist, but rather I didn't want to so viciously bite the hand that fed me. TranceCritic had already dealt with managers not pleased with us being just another outlet of enthusiasm press, when Paul van Dyk's team pulled back an interview request following Jack Moss' less-than adulatory write-up of Politics Of Dancing 2. However, I never got further packages from Boa, so my discretion was moot.

Plus, I doubt anything I'd have written back when would have made much difference. The duo behind Bubble – Guy Sarnat and Karen Bagdasarov – have maintained a steady career to this day, no small feat in the overcrowded realm of Israeli full-on. True, their last album outing was in 2011, but they've continued a trickle of singles, a smattering of Soundclouds, and a permanent presence on the festival circuit, with a dedicated following eating up their brand of light-weight psy. They've got it made, and all the more power to them for their success. Their debut album's still balls, though.

I get what they're shooting for, Infected Mushroom's influence evident throughout Airless. With song-writing so disjointed and production so cheap, however, it's rare anything clicks in this album. Opening track I'm Looking nicely exemplifies what I'm getting on about. Gentle guitar strumming gets us started, then that plastic, lifeless rhythm the worst of Israeli full-on uses appears, burying everything in the mix. The guitar's still going, but details are lost, nor does it sync with the supporting superfluous effects.

And it just gets sadder from there, I'm Looking diving into 'buttrock' territory with hilariously limp shredding that has no idea what the rhythm's doing, and a pathetic piano patch even Casio keyboardists would shun. This is also that kind of segmented full-on gibberish, where nothing musically ties together, everything arranged in the most generic of random wibble I've ever heard out of the genre. That's just one track out of eight, and things get worse the deeper into Airless we go. Dear God, won't someone save that poor piano patch?

Bubble clearly had ambitious ideas, and sometimes they come through (Class-X has a nifty squealing acid line, Bubble In Panic's rhythms don't suck so hard). Sadly, they lacked the songcraft experience and production capability to see them to fruition here. It's like a teenage garage band shooting for Led Zeppelin epics in their earliest sessions. Not recommended.

I DID IT! I DID IT! ...and yet, there's still so much to do.

Well.

Guess I should write something here. I mean, this was originally the endpoint, the stretch goal, the final target, the reason for all existence. Okay, maybe not that significant an achievement, but definitely a task I was determined to do to completion, and by José, I actually did it, even if it took far longer than initially intended. To what end, though? What have I learned in listening to every album I own in alphabetical order? Have I gained any greater insight into my music consuming habits, any deeper understanding of my own sense of self for having done this? Or was this all just one big silly diversion for everyone involved, something to wile the months away like a never-ending Let's Play series. Come to think of it, why did I even start this in the first place? Cue the flashback dissolve.

I've mentioned my motivation in doing this was to spice up my listening habits, but what was the ignition that spurred me forward? To my recollection (it's been over seven years now), I'd hit a state of utter apathy with contemporary music. I felt no desire to explore new stuff because all the new stuff I was being told was the best contemporary music had to offer was frightfully dull. The critical vanguards of electronic music may have moved on from 'minimal', but they remained devoted to 'deep and serious' sounds – or had flash-in-pan infatuations with funky novelties like disco edits. Meanwhile, the popular stuff was reaching peak bro, the likes of Guetta and Skrillex dominating the discourse.

If I'd seriously dug around, I'm sure I'd have found items that tickled my ears just fine, but the drive to do so simply wasn't there. I kept glancing back to the past, wondering what I may have missed or overlooked, including what I'd amassed in my own collection to that point. Over the course of nearly twenty years, I'd gathered around 500 albums into my possession, and while I had some favourites, many others had gone neglected in that time. With precious little new inspiring me, I figured then was as good as any point to revisit everything in some orderly fashion.

Writing about it was furthest from my mind, but after a year had passed, I realized there were plenty of notes, ideas and opinions germinating with each item I listened to. Was there much interest in music bloggers anymore though? Everything was moving on to video reviews and podcasting, which seemed like a fun idea if I could find an angle for it. Maybe I could just start writing again, get the creative fires sparking, see where it led me, and worry about the other stuff later. And since I'd just be writing for myself, I wouldn't have to worry about all those niggling formalities 'proper music journalists' do, which made the TranceCritic experience an utter chore towards its end. Take a few creative chances here and there for my own amusement, while waxing philosophical should the inspiration strike me. Mmm, that's the stuff.

Another reason I revisited all my music was the killer combo of record store closures and financial constraints. Even if I wanted to go hunting about for new tunes, my options had substantially dwindled by the year 2011. Yet, I soon found myself gainfully employed, and online stores like Amazon and Bandcamp were providing me with greater access to obscure items than I'd ever had before. As a result my CD collection has nearly tripled in size from when I first started this adventure, a feat I would have found unfathomable back then. No wonder my early estimates of when I'd finish were woefully under-guessed.

Not only did increased purchasing power help fill in a bunch of blanks I'd passed over, but spurred me on to unexpected discoveries of other items along the way. Some I'd never have even stumbled upon if it wasn't from what little 'research' I do for these reviews. All the dark ambient's the most obvious example, but plenty others too (modern ambient techno, ancient Berlin-School krautrock, synthwave ....Oak Ridge Boys). If there's any real takeaway from having devoted so much time to this blog, it's how I'm enjoying that insatiable hunt for music like never before.

Where does that leave me now, though? What's next? My initial plan once I reached The Hacker & Eric Borgo's Zone was to move on to another non-music writing project I'd put on the backburner, but I've devoted nearly six years to this little corner of the interwebs – seems anticlimactic to just up and leave it fallow as is.

Besides, I'm not really done, am I? Even as I ran through this final stretch of CDs, I was still acquiring new music along the way, 80 album's worth (holy cow, how did that happen!?). Plus, there's all those CDs I listened to in the first year that I never wrote reviews for, and it's just wrong to not include some of my all time favourite albums in this blog. My last Banco de Gaia review can't be You Are Here, it must be Big Men Cry! All said, I've currently got at least another 200 reviews I can do, which I'm obviously going to do. It must be done, the OCD compels me.

But I feel I could do more, explore ideas for other features. Bring back 5-song mini-reviews or Spotify Suggestions (senseless or otherwise). Maybe even get a Patreon going for request reviews. Yeah, I know I've got nowhere near the readership to make a living off that service – I'm hilariously bad at self-promotion – but as I may not be so gainfully employed at my regular job in the next couple years (yay restructuring), it's foolish of me not to consider alternative means of income, even if it's little more than side-scratch.

Food for thought anyway. For now, I'm taking a little break from the blog to focus on another project that demands attention. Let me know if any of these ideas are of interest, or if you might have suggestions of your own.

Fehrplay - Meow

Ministry Of Sound America: 2010

It’s a given that the PR blurbs that come with new singles are ridiculous. If you were to take them at face value, you’d swear every new tune was the greatest composition ever created. Of course, that ain’t true, but it can make for some hilarious reading whenever they overshoot. Sometimes, they’re so bold in their ambition that they’ll bestow ‘classic’ status upon a track well before it’s even had a chance to get properly rinsed out. Like this one.

Oh, Meow definitely has the potential to become a hit, even if it’s ballsy to declare it a WMC anthem nearly a month before the event even starts. Thing is Ferhplay has checked off (re: style-bitten) many of the things that has made many an Eric Prydz track a hit. The hook is instantly likeable, the beats have quality bounce, the supporting ‘piano’ chords will bob heads, and all the whooshy effects are tastefully done; then, it’s arranged such that the vibe never falters. There’s no new ground being broken here but with a track this shamelessly fun, does it matter? Certainly not, so Meow looks primed to be at least a minor hit for the main room crowds.

The B-side of this digital promo is

Then I stopped typing, stared at the computer screen, and asked myself, “Why am I still doing this? Nothing I write matters and all these free digi-EP promos I’m being sent won’t have any lasting impact upon electronic music. Fuck it. Fuck everything.”

Yes indeed, it was cynicism towards over-zealous PR that finally broke me, despite managing a few more reviews before truly quitting. It didn’t help I was suffering from multiple bouts of work and college related stress, relationship and financial depression, and just generally feeling poo at the time, but there it is - the honest-to-God impetus for giving up writing reviews about new music. I’m feeling better now, thankfully.

I imagine it’s a self-defeating, futile and sick, sick, sick environment, the world of promo-PR. How many times do copy-writers hype a track to the high ends of the Earth, only for said track to get completely passed by without a notice or care. Hell, Fehrplay’s Meow was one of the best ones of at least a dozen digi-promos I went through, hence why I tried writing a review for it, plus got picked up by Ministry Of Sound and Hed Kandi for compilation duty on all their major releases (Annual, Clubber’s Guide …Miami Fashion District?). Nor was I the only one to make the Prydz connection, as Jonas von der Fehr released his second single, Incognito, on Pryda Friends. Meow truly could have been a major hit like the promo guys claimed. Yet, do you remember this tune? For that matter, did you even know it existed, because Amazon.com sure doesn't.

Anyhow, to finish this four year aborted review, the B-side is titled Meow Again. It’s an electro-house version, and not as good as the original Meow. Yay, done, finished.

Various - Influence 2.2: A Hardtrance Experience (2013 Update)

Hypnotic: 1995

(Click here to have your eyes glaze over attempting to read my stupid long original review.)


No, really, what in God’s green and blue Earth was I thinking in writing such a ridiculously bloated review for Influence 2.2? I spend over 200 words detailing some tracks, and Argon-X’s Little Gamma’s Adventure gets a whopping 300 words. While some of them do hold up as good examples of classic mid-‘90s hard trance, they were by no means super-ultra-mega classics or anything. And Hell, it sure wasn’t like I wasn’t cutting a few corners with other reviews at the time, seeking brevity on some of the more repetitive CDs I’d be handed.

Right, right. I’m a big sucker for most things Music Research related. And, I suppose in my enthusiasm to share my thoughts on more music from the label, I went totally and utterly overboard on this one. Thing to remember is, in 2005, there weren’t many handy options for sharing audio, at least by any grey-legal means. TranceCritic was more than happy to provide Amazon links to these CDs, and if they just happened to have a thirty-second clip of it, all the better. But as we were trying to be something of a legitimate website, hot-linking to file-sharing services was totally out of the question, to say nothing of uploading such tunes ourselves (oh hello, you be shut down now). These days, it’s no th’ang to give a [Spotify] link – in fact, there's [the entire CD] for you down below right now. There, done, no three-hundred bloody words to let you know how it sounds; just my thumbs up required.

[edit: this whole section is clearly no longer valid, after Spotify became available in Canada, but here it is for posterity sake]
[edit2: Deezer as well, but I'm too lazy updating the link here]
This is why I [didn’t] bother uploading any audio to this here blog. Finding music online is ridiculously easy, a simple “_______ YouTube” search inquiry in your little Google bar all that’s required. If folks want to hear music for themselves, it’s not hard. Still, and call me a curmudgeon traditionalist on this, I believe there remains some value in the hunt for music, a certain satisfaction attained when that search turns out results. Don’t want to make things too easy for the kids these days.

So where does this leave us with Influence 2.2? Kind of forgotten and redundant, now that I think about it. The best tracks off here are worth having, for certain, but they’re coupled with some totally forgettable stuff too. Another benefit of modern music gathering compared to years ago is not having to get a whole CD for a few choice cuts, and believe you me Little Gamma’s Adventure, Influid’s We’re Always Behind You, and Phoenixx’s The Mongolian Rider are worth the pennies it takes to buy an MP3 these days. Maybe Retroflex’s Family Nightmare too, for the silliness of it all (woo epic gabber trance!). Of course, if you’re just some sort of crazy CD collector (*cough*), you’re gonna have to settle for Influence 2.2 because, believe it or not, this is one of the only places you’ll find Argon-X's cut (so sayeth The Discogs). Hey, maybe its rarity makes that old ginormous review worth- pft, nah!

Various - Fabric 48: Radio Slave (2013 Update)

Fabric: 2009

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

Um, yeah. This and 29 are the only Fabric mixes I have, both acquired for the purpose of review. As always, I have my reasons, and since you can follow that little link above to read my (not-so old) thoughts on Radio Slave’s contribution if you so wish, I shall now blather on about such reasons.

The thing about these Fabric CDs is they usually arrived new on Vancouver shelves with jacked-up import prices, upwards of the thirty dollar range (yes, that’s quite a bit for a CD here in Canada). I’ve been buying myself music for a good twenty years now, but personal purchasing power’s been poor for most of them, thus rendering my selections ofttimes rather picky. If I’m dropping nearly thirty for a single CD, it better be for something greater than ‘just another DJ mix’, especially at a time when freebies and podcasts are wildly available online.

Still, I’d occasionally splurge if I thought something should have coverage on TranceCritic, hence why I’d bought the Tiefschwarz mix, figuring it necessary for the website to finally jump on that wagon. Fortunately, a British chap by the name of Will Alexander joined our crew for a while, and he took care of the Fabric mixes afterwards, leaving me to instead cover twisted forest psy, or whatever. He only stayed for a year though, but when he left I saw no reason to carry on with TC’s Fabric reviews. They weren’t heavy traffic attractors (trancecrackers don’t like tech house, what?), and besides, I’d noticed a general trend developing with the releases: they made for incredibly boring reviews.

Always, there’d be plenty of pre-release hype, a good chunk of forum dwellers posting such thrilling, anticipatory comments like “Massive!”, or “Can’t miss!” or “This’ll be huge!” (plus an occasional dissenter). Then a website like Resident Advisor or Pitchfork would throw up their review, awarding it a customary six-to-eight out of ten, depending on the reviewer’s particular taste. Posters would cry “too low” or “too high”, then forget about it until the next edition. Rinse, repeat. Fabric was becoming just like Global Underground had: an avenue for solid yet unremarkable DJ mixes.

Okay, that’s a gross overstatement, as Fabric at least keeps its selection of selectors reasonably varied, but what else was there left to say about them? Almost every fresh angle had been covered with the series long ago, rendering reviews of new mixes little more than dutiful recaps. Well, there is one angle still…

Most of the old Fabric CDs can be found cheaply through Amazon now, many going for less than a tenner; ironically, my purchasing power’s never been better, so I can gorge on a bunch of them if I so choose. It might be fun to go back to a few and see how they’ve held up, whether to highlight an overlooked gem or eviscerate an overhyped flop. With so many out there though, which ones should I go after? Let me know in the comments!

Various - Echodub Loves, Vol. 2 (2013 Update)

Echodub: 2010

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)

Oh hey, looky here. It's the last release I wrote a proper review of before I went on that two-plus year hiatus. Funny how it's also the last review for TranceCritic, and looks to remain that way. That website sure ended with a whimper, though I guess I'm partially to blame since I never did officially declare my writing tenure there to be over. I wonder if anyone still goes there expecting something new.

So what did happen, anyway? Sorry, nothing scandalous or the like, but with TC having not evolved much during the time I promised to commit, I saw little point in carrying on if it was just going to be me writing reviews; it’d be nothing but a glorified blog, and I already had a middling blog for myself at the time. More than that, however, was I found myself less and less interested in whatever the latest electronic music had to offer. My ears kept turning to the past, not so much for familiarity, but to unearth what I’d missed before, and what I could discover further back. Not exactly conducive to a website aiming for coverage of the latest releases.

“But, Sykonee,” you might have said back in the Summer Of 2010, “there’s plenty of great new music too!” Hey, I wouldn’t doubt you. Echodub Loves 2 certainly was proof of interesting things going on in the elsewheres of electronic music. Listening to it again today, I’m actually rather saddened dubstep didn’t explore these roads more, instead venturing further into bro or... whatever else it did in the UK. Or maybe it did, and I’ve been missing out on a bunch of great atmospheric material.

There entails the other frustration I had towards the end: being overwhelmed by releases, and never knowing what I should be listening to for coverage. I’m quite proud we were able to review such a wide range of electronic music at TC, but without ample manpower, it’s a self-defeating process when you don’t specialize. What gives precedent over something else? Do you buy into PR hype about what “will” be the next greatest thing? Not bloody likely, as almost every fucking release comes with such ridiculous marketing. Going through new releases becomes a chore, and the passion and enjoyment that comes from listening and writing about music evaporates. Ask any music journalist and they’ll likely tell you similar feelings of futility when swamped in promos; however, they’ll plug on, because that’s their job. TC was not my job (I sure didn’t get paid to write), but nor was it a hobby. Ultimately, it became an obligation, one I felt fulfilled after five years.

Of course, there was a lot of other bullshit I was dealing with that year too (2010 was not a happy funtime for yours truly), but that’s chit-chat for another time. As for Echodub Loves 2, I’m pretty sure it’s still available for free at the label’s website. Some good tracks available, you should check them out.

Sandoz - Digital Lifeforms: Redux (2012 Update)

The Grey Area: 2004

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)

It's time for another edition of Sykonee Beats Himself Up Over An Old Review. Yeah, I self-deprecate mostly for jokes, but this time I'm serious. If there's one review out of all those old crummy ones I truly hate, it was the one written for Sandoz' Digital Lifeforms. Done during that awkward period where I still continued detailing track-by-track, made worse by the literal point-form of the second CD, it’s definitely a slog to read, but that’s not the whole of it. It sometimes comes off like I didn’t know what I was talking about, which was kind of true.

Anyone that spends plenty of time consuming music - of any genre - should acquire a good deal of knowledge about it in the process. So long as you never stop consuming, your knowledge base will continue expanding. I had a firm handle on most aspects of techno back then, yet I’ve learned much more since. It’s that absence of strong, informed facts regarding Richard Kirk’s influences that hurts my eyes the most. Sure, the liner notes were helpful, but I was utterly clueless as to what ‘Malian techno’ really meant.

That may be a moot point anyway. It’s not like I’ve gone and digested the entire musical history of Mali to truly appreciate Digital Lifeforms, as it’s not necessary. Understanding it, though, may have helped provide better insight into what it is about this album that just keeps getting better every time I throw it on.

Or maybe not. It's a feeling, that instinctive response one gets from music that's almost impossible to articulate. On a surface level, many things about Digital Lifeforms seems like it shouldn't work, that the production comes off hopelessly dated. Yet something about it always snags my attention, locking me into infectious grooves and harmonies. It could very well be the Kirk aesthetic, crisp but with grit; deliberate in its simplicity, allowing tracks to ebb and flow on their own merits.

It's why I despise the old review so much. I kinda-sorta touched on that aspect of Sandoz, but felt obligated to stick to 'journalistic writing', mostly ignoring my gut emotion about the music on hand and describe what occurs instead. One is taught not to write 'feeling' in journalism, as it's pure subjectivity. By that token, it's understandable why folks would prefer that format for music reviews, as all too often those trying to write reviews from a personal perspective end up lost in hyperbole and fail to offer anything insightful about the music. The best music writers I've come across capably blend the two extremes, going off on entertaining rants or interesting anecdotes while providing useful information pertinent to the release, all the while letting me, the reader, know exactly how they feel about what they're hearing.

After all, honest emotion is what we expect out of the musicians. Why not also expect the same out of those writing about those musicians' efforts as well?