Futuregrapher - Geirþjófsfjörður

Neotantra: 2022

Have I mentioned that Árni is from Iceland? Oh, I probably have by this point, but just in case you somehow didn't catch on yet, the title of this album should be a dead giveaway. I don't even know how to say that. Hell, I don't know if even Google knows how to say that. The sound I had it make in Translate sounded more like Tongues or a record played in reverse. And when I actually tried to have Google translate the word, it just spat out the exact same one, but with less vowel accents. Does that mean this is a completely made-up word? I haven't a clue, needing an Icelandic linguist to confirm that for me.

That's always been the quirky thing about their Native language though, right? Just one of those ridiculously incomprehensible dialects with words stretching to obscene lengths. What else can give it competition? German? Hungarian? Welsh? Sanskirt? I'm sure there's plenty, but Icelandese always seems uniquely quirky too, in a mysterious sort of way. For the longest time, most folks didn't really know it had these ludicrously long words, thinking stuff like Reykjavík or Björk being the most bizarre it got.

Then a major eruption occurred on the island, the resulting ash fallout causing all manner of chaotic flight problems for a spell, such that global news organizations had to report on it. And oh man, the hilarity of seeing broadcasters attempt pronouncing Eyjafjallajökull? Glorious. Still, it also makes me wonder if Icelanders are just making shit up, creating these weird combinations of abstract consonants and squiggly vowels, just to mess with us Latin-based vocabulary speakers. It would certainly make more sense to me why Futuregrapher would title this Geirþjófsfjörður, a word that even Google has no clue what is. Having a bit of fun with those residing outside the northern isle's influence, right?

Not quite as fun is the album the word is based upon. Well, not so much 'unfun', just rather melancholic and reflective – seems to be a running theme with these CDs included within the Ember Delays Vol. 1 box-set. Even without a translation of the track titles, there's a real sense of isolation, quiet calm, yet graceful beauty in the ambient Árni has crafted here, a sort of wanderlust in exploring his Icelandic homeland in a solo trek across its landscapes.

As an album playthrough though, it's a little odd. The first four tracks are rather unique from each other: Einmanna heavy on field recordings and lonesome synth pads; Gufudalur featuring soft Berlin-School pulses and organ tones; Næturhvíld quite bright and shimmery, if at times overall atonal; Sálarflakk bringing guitar strums and soft, wooden rhythmic thumping. They all come off like appetizers though, Geirþjófsfjörður closing out with Tjaldur, a twenty-six minute long minimalist ambient outing of drawn out flutes, gently swishing water, occasional bird calls, and little else. Imagine just hanging out on a lakeside grassy knoll, your only company the fauna fluttering by.

Herne - Emotional Axes

Neotantra: 2022

In a coincidental twist, the next album within the Ember Delays Vol. 1 box-set is one that would have ended up slotted in my review queue at this point regardless. Somewhere hereabouts, at least, the combination of 'Em' surprisingly common for titling among musicians. Emotional, Emit, Emfire, Empire, Empyrean, and so on. Of course, not nearly as many variants of 'El', what with well over a dozen versions of 'Electr' and 'Element' in there (and three 'Elephants', somehow ...yes, my mind still boggles).

Dammit, and now that I've tugged at that bit of useless trivia, my wonky brain-matter is suddenly compelled to find out all the useless stats of such combinations within my music collection. How many albums start with 'Ex' or 'Im' or 'Lo' or 'Xp'. Or maybe go reverse on it, like how many don't start with 'Qu'? (zero, by the way – the answer to that one is zero). Such insatiable need to know things, especially that which serve no purpose other than filling statistical bupkis.

Well, that was a tangent, which means I either have little to talk about the music on hand, or little info regarding the artist crafting it. Definitely the latter than the former, this Herne having almost no Discoggian presence, and nothing else I can find elsewhere. In fact, about the only material he has to his name are frequent contributions to Neotantra compilations, first appearing all the way back on tʌntrə V. He made relatively steady appearances after for the next couple years, then was finally given the album go-ahead with this here Emotional Axes. Then following that, not a peep. Maybe whoever Herne is started working on other stuff under a different name, but again, no idea of that with the information I have available to me. For all I know, it's another Lee Norris side project.

Anyhow, Emotional Axes. This was a bit of an odd one, in that it started one way, then kinda' morphed into something else by album's end. Yeah, we're still dealing with ambient music, but as I hope I've made abundantly clear over the years, there's a lot of variety within the genre, even when focusing on the more subtle, calming side of things.

For instance, the first few tracks quite remind me of the sort of lowercase minimalism I frequently heard on Andrew Heath's albums. Maybe not quite as abstract, the quiet use of field recordings and simple flowing pads rather straight-forward and obvious - when a track called Concentration invokes feelings of gentle reflection, you know the artist is on point in their musical intent. Yet while the minimalism does carry through, Herne's execution starts varying as the album plays out. Some tracks start layering atonal pads into a wall of sound, while others (especially towards LP's end) abandon musicality altogether, settling into experimental bleeps and ultra-quiet dark drones. I can't say I was as fond of these pieces, somewhat ruining the tranquil mood the earlier portions of Emotional Axes offered.

D York - Melancholic Gardens

Neotantra: 2022

So I got another box-set.

The collection is called Ember Delays Vol 1, which gathered five digital albums released under the Neotantra banner, and gave them a spiffy physical upgrade. Had I ripped those individual CDs rather than download the Bandcamp version for listening purposes, where they were all bundled within the same folder, I'd be reviewing them in their orderly alphabetical sequence instead. I didn't though, hence why it'll appear we're jumping all over the place for the next week. I'm technically reviewing a compilation called Ember Delays, but unique, previously-released albums within its slim casing.

But yeah, one of the reasons I sprung for this set was for the CDs, in that Neotantra doesn't really release them anymore. Ever since the label abandoned the gradient colour cover art, it's been almost entirely digital, which I'm sure is more convenient on the expenses front (no coincidence this switch occurred right around peak pandemic years). Not that I'd be greedily gobbling up all such releases if they did – it was difficult enough keeping pace with their Phase 1 material, even with a thematic scheme that triggers one's OCD. Still, given the abundance of material Neotantra releases on the regular, it's nice having a few of them properly sitting on the CD shelves.

Interestingly, D York is one of the few artists to have a physical option from the label in recent years, with the album Airport Meditations. I assume it's a sublime slice of ambient music – the cover art certainly deserves some extra shine outside the confines of computer screens – but the chap's got a lot of material in his discography, so I've no way of confirming it's top-tier among his releases.

Yeah, Mr. York (I can't find info on his real name) has released a lot of material, mostly while in isolation during lockdown – his first album was called Covidium, in case you're wondering where his inspiration lies. Lots of long-form drone pieces, a series titled Music For Long Attention Spans being his most fruitful assortment of works. He's mostly stuck to self-release options, but got chummy with the Neotantra folks with a couple contributions to their Tantra compilations, and was finally given the go-ahead with a full-length album for them with this here Melancholic Gardens. No guesses on how this one's gonna' go.

Yeah, expect lots of languid, layered ambient synths, richly textured field recordings, reflective moods and a general sense of calm as you casually stroll through urban green spaces. The music does feel open, yet somehow constrained too, always that sense of suffocating humanity just around the corner from the naturalist setting you're currently inhabiting. Most of the tracks follow this pattern, though a couple break form: The Pines mostly focuses on gentle glass tones, digital-only Cloudburst gets a little Berlin-School towards its end. Overall though, Melancholic Gardens is about as I expect from Neotantra: lush ambient music from a label that never seems to run out of it.

Cypress Hill - Elephants On Acid

BMG: 2018

This is an album that didn't need to exist, but oh are we ever so blessed that it does. The Cypress Hill brand could rest easy on their past achievements, and indeed that seemed to be the case as the 2010s took form. The prior decade hadn't been terrible for the group or anything, but it was clear their best days were behind them, DJ Muggs in particular seeing more critical plaudits in his solo ventures than anything he was doing with B-Real and Sen Dog anymore. And they were fine with that, Mr. Real content in establishing his own studio should he get the music bug, while he and Mr. Dog continued successful tours replaying the old hits. If Til Death Do Us Part was indeed the last of classic Cypress Hill, no one would feel shame in that, a legacy firmly enshrined in hip-hop history.

Which is what makes Elephants On Acid all the more remarkable. Yes, it's a dope-ass album of psychedelic rap music, possibly one of the greatest records of the genre in the past decade – from a highly recognizable name, at the very least. To even have the gumption to go all in with it though? That's some pachyderm-sized balls, mang'.

In fact, there was little sign it was even in their systems to go this deep into the trippy weeds. Cypress Hill music would sometimes side-glance into the realms of Gothic horror and psychedelic dreams, but almost always as flavouring while rapping about gang bangin' and marijuana consumption (and certainly less of it following their go with nu-metal). Here, it's like the script got flipped, more emphasis placed on just how twisted Muggs' music can go, with the usual street and grass references more of an afterthought, like visions of a past life while exploring LSD adventures. Which may not be far from the truth, this record apparently more the brain child of Muggs than anything B-Real or Sen Dog envisioned. The abundance of instrumental interludes, where Muggs is clearly indulging himself with whatever strikes his fancy (you're darn right Elephant Acid sounds like an elephant on acid), pretty much confirms such a theory.

Even better-better, it's a modern rap album that almost entirely eschews modern rap tropes. Some pitched vocals here, a female led chorus there, and that's about it. No cheap-ass trap beats, everything rhythm gritty, booming, and filled with rich instrumentation from across the globe. Want some choirs? Here's Jesus Was A Stoner. A little Latin swing? Here's Oh Na Na. Twitchy street vibes? Here's Pass The Knife. A sing-a-long anthem with heavy trumpets? Here's Reefer Man, though good luck keeping pitch with just how warbly B-Real and Sen Dog get with their “la la-la-la la”s. The only thing really missing from Elephants On Acid from being a true Cypress Hill classic is that one all-timer tune with Sen Dog on an ear-wormy call-and-response chorus. Granted, this isn't that kind of record, but just imagine if they somehow pulled that off this deep into their careers?

God's Groove - Elements Of Nature

Logic Records: 1994

How on Mother Earth does this album exist with hardly a soul knowing about it? Like, I understand why it would get lost in the shuffle three decades ago. The music on here just doesn't tidily fit into any conventional genre of the era, liberally cribbing from its surrounding scenes, existing outside of time, sounding retro and contemporary. Okay, maybe not ultra-modern or anything, but boy does it ever predict a certain segment of dance music in the years to come.

It's not like God's Groove went out of their way to create some ageless, timeless masterwork that was unfairly neglected, oh no. I sense this was one of those happy coincidences, Misters Gauder and Herz just stumbling into this quite by accident. They never parlayed this project into huge things, God's Groove dutifully appearing on the requisite eurodance and trance compilations for a few years in the '90s (though nothing on this side of the pond), the players then moving onto other, more lucrative things. It's like they immediately hit a creative dead-end because in a sense, they did. Where could they even go from this album? They sure couldn't double-down with more of the same, because they seemingly layed everything out on their opening hand. When you start this high, there's only down after.

Am I overselling Elements Of Nature? You're damn right I am! When you stumble upon something this unexpected, you can't help but feel giddy about it, relishing in all its attributes that, on paper, should utterly fail. There's cheese on here - good Lord is there ever cheese - but such succulent cheddar, leaving you craving for bite after bite. There's eurodance, there's German trance, there's epic house, there's pan-pipes, there's New Age bollocks, there's proto-goa, there's women belting choruses like they're Tori Amos. There's melodies ripped from vintage Jarre and segments ripped from Enigma interstitials. And holy cow, if that titular cut isn't a direct style-bite of Jam & Spoon: moody, trancey lead-in with tweaky acid, then the biggest PLUR-goo breakdown you'll ever hear in the before times of Dutch trance nonsense, followed by a big ol' race to the finish that'll have all the candy kids melting. Yet, somehow not a happy hardcore track? How can this project be this extra yet credible?

Again, it's that timeframe. Had Elements Of Nature come out in 2009 or 2004 or 1997, I'd totally buy that. As mentioned, it kinda' does foretell where the sillier aspects of vocal trance would end up. Yet here it is, right in the middle of trance and eurodance's classic era, fitting in neither scene all the while feeling like it should be part of the other. How could God's Groove be credited with influencing anything when nothing off here gets name-dropped after the fact?

I've no idea if Elements Of Nature will find a new audience, its 1994-ness obvious and bare. If you've even a small inclining for that year of trance music though, this is definitely worth a listen.

Dub_Connected - Electronic Music

Liquid Audio Soundz: 2001

Amazingly, astoundingly, incredulously, this is the first electronic music album I've gotten that's simply titled Electronic Music. You'd think with a music collection of some two-thousand plus items, it'd have come up more often. Yet I've far more records simply titled Genesis than I do Electronic Music. Hell, in the 'E's, I have eight variations of Earth, three Eternals, three Everythings, and somehow three Elephants. I'll grant an electronic music artist titling their album Electronic Music may be a little too on the nose – even as early as the '70s, synth wizard Synergy had the good sense to name his debut Electronic Realizations For Rock Orchestra. And who knows, maybe there are several out there that I simply haven't stumbled upon. Some early-ass compilation series, right? I dunno', just figured it would have come up at some in my music gathering endeavours than another collection of dubby techno tracks from a Gabriel Le Mar side-project.

In case you missed my first Dub_Connected review, here's the recap: ol' Gab' was gettin' real busy at the turn of the century, releasing mucho music across several aliases and collaborations. Saafi Brothers was probably the most well recognized of the lot, having an all-star cast of artists on hand, but he was making inroads on all forms of dubby jams among other works too. Dub_Connected was the one that went just a little more techno than others, with a compilation of works released in Vol. 1 – Mind The Gab! This is the follow-up, billed as a proper album since its all fresh material mostly exclusive to this release.

That said, a good chunk of Electronic Music does sound like the leftover tracks from those earlier sessions. Not so much opener The Soul Takes A Flight, a brisk, smooth groover with a little vocoder action, the sort of track I could see Swayzak playing at peak hours back in the day. Following that though, we're deep in that gritty, dirty, dubby techno stylee folks would sooner associate with Bandulu or Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia, though with heavier emphasis on dub music's Jamaican roots. Which hey, I'm all for – it's what got me into those acts in the first place, and given the utter dearth of such jams out there, I'm glad Mr. le Mar had his stab at it too.

Then things get really interesting. No Vemba practically sheds all roots influence and aims straight for the streets of MegaCity District Detroit. After that, Tribal Sunset gets deep in the thumping minimal techno vibe while throwing some extra stank on d'at bassline, while Auto Mobilee gets as minimal as I'm sure Gabriel could ever allow. And just in case this hasn't been Detroit enough for you, closer Something Happened Here Last Night takes us out in fine electro or a moonlight setting fashion.

So an album of two halves, where despite coming in wanting the first, I left more satisfied with the second. As a good LP should.

The Grid - Electric Head

EastWest: 1990

Tale as old as time: two guys meet while working with a legend of their scene (in this case, Psychic TV), decide they have enough creative synergy to do something on their own, and proceed to craft a bunch of tunes influenced by their contemporary clime'. That it would eventually lead to kicking off the 'country twang house' movement of the '90s is something I'm sure no one could have conceived, but I've already covered that bit of history in my review of Evolver.

And to be fair, it's not like Dave Ball was some unknown entity when he lent his talents to the Genesis P-Orridge project, having come off a successful run as the music-man behind Soft Cell. Getting in on that UK acid house scene was inevitable, but finding a kindred spirit in Richard Norris likely helped get things rolling much smoother than most post new-wave efforts often yielded.

However, sometimes you hit the studio with too many ideas sloshing about your brainpan, anxious to get them all out without any clear focus in how to make them all connect. Electric Head certainly doesn't hold back in offering a little something of everything you might hear wandering in a daze through the second Summer Of Love, but I'm not surprised this album doesn't get name-dropped that often when talk of that era comes up. Floatation, yes, absolutely, a definitive staple in the burgeoning afterhours chill-out scene. The plunderphonic-hop of Are You Receiving though? Or the woozy house of Driving Instructor? Or the hi-NRG antics of A Beat Called Love? Or the dopey EBM of Doctor Celine? The Pet Shop Boys aping This Must Be Heaven? Not so much, I wager. That Intergalactica though, I can't see anyone having much trouble working that into a Moroder inspired set. You might even throw folks for a loop after revealing it was made by the same chaps as Texas Cowboy.

That about sums it up though, doesn't it? The classic albums of electronic music from the early '90s are typically deemed as such because they were trend setters, defining genres in their infancy. While The Grid were certainly capable song writers and clever studio producers right out the gate, there really isn't much on Electric Head that you couldn't hear elsewhere. I guess that's why they made this more of an album experience, linking everything with interstitial sonic doodles and field recordings, which does help. Makes it feel like you're taking a sampling of what you might hear surfing the radio waves of the UK at the time. The spaced-out acid house of opener One Giant Step not doing it for you, so you switch the station, and oh, here's some sampledelic electro in Islamotron. But I want to hear something reminding me of that trip to Ibiza. Like all the clubby tunes? No, no, I've heard plenty of that already. I mean the comedown part.

Yeah, small wonder lead single Floatation got placed at the end of the album.

Triquetra - Ecstatic Planet

Suntrip Records: 2018

Look, we all know the '90s is old now. Thirty-plus years ain't no joke, and for those of us that grew up during that decade, it's hard reconciling two whole generations have come up in its wake. It's weird thinking 'the kidz' will get hep to the sounds that soundtracked your developmental days. Don't they, like, have their own music to get down to? Yes, for the most part, but there's always those outliers that get inspired by the sounds of yesteryear. Your Brian Setzers bringing back swing jazz. Your Greta Van Fleets bringing back Led Zeppelin. Your Fantastic Negrito bringing back roots blues. Okay, that one never really went away, but you get my drift.

So it goes with Triquetra. The twin brothers weren't even born when the music they're inspired by was getting made. If they got into acid house or Detroit techno or progressive trance or funky breaks, I could see that being a thing. After all, those are well established legacy genres, with well established legacy artists that are top of the list when veterans start name-dropping Very Important People at d'em yoots. It's rather rare that you'll see this happen in the psy scene.

Right, I was a doe-eyed teen when I first started getting into the O.G.s of goa trance, but that's because they were the new cats. If someone in their teens started getting into psy now, I'd assume they'd start scoping out whatever the hot artists and styles are of these modern times are, not what was poppin' decades prior. And far as I know, full-on remains the dominate gateway psy sub-genre, with neo-goa (or whatever you want to call Suntrip's stylee) firmly in niche territory. For a pair of younglings to instead be inspired by the music of their crustie forefathers, it'd be like, well, some teens jamming to King Crimson in the '90s.

Right, right, I'm way overthinking things, aren't I? Heh, as can be expected of music that's supposed to expand consciousness (or something). Let's just focus on Triquetra's debut album with Suntrip then, Ecstatic Planet. I was rather surprised how retro this retro psy sounded. Despite drawing inspiration from the long-ago time, most neo-goa still tends to retain beefy modern production standards, perhaps almost to a fault sometimes. Not so here, most of the acid lines, squiggly sounds, and compressed kicks sounding like something straight out of a that Classic Goa Trax compilation. The Reinartz brothers don't fuss much with extraneous effects or multi-layered synths, some added didgeridoo jamming (the live cut of Gargantuan Tribes) about the fanciest they get in adding flair to all the TB-303 action.

It kinda' puts Ecstatic Planet in a weird middle-zone of enjoyment, like an album of filler tracks on a classic Blue Room Released collection, that don't quite stand out from the best tunes on the CD. And hey, there's always a place for that, but if the hard acid side of psy isn't quite your thing, then this likely won't be either.

N:L:E - Ecovillage

Liquid Frog Records: 2022

Not very often we get an album focusing so specifically on the achievements of mankind from N:L:E. Juan Pablo tends to prefer exploring our naturalistic surroundings, from the micro to the macro, realms unconcerned with humanity's presence. Even Yahgan, a direct reference to a people living in the remote ends of Argentina, is more an homage to their nearly lost culture than an exploration of our species' presence in even the most inhospitable clime's.

And maybe its that concern for the often destructive nature of our adaptive abilities that got Mr. Giacovino feeling inspired by something a little more sustainable in co-existing within our environments. Make no mistake: for as remarkable as its been that we've bent mother nature to our will in service of our survival, its come with many fallouts too. No other animal has so radically altered its living spaces for its own benefit to such a degree as humans have. Even the engineering feats of the mighty beaver pale compared to our concrete fortifications. Heck, given how much Earth's atmosphere has changed during the Holocene Epoch, we just might give even cyanobacteria a run for its money! Okay, maybe not. They had a few hundred million years to do what they did, and we'll be lucky to make it to our first million years of existence.

Where was I? Oh, right, ecovillages. Yeah, that's one way we might stave off our inevitable doom. Dwellings making use of natural energy sources like solar power and windmills and rain floods. All good for small scale communities, absolutely, though you'd really have to dig that isolated trad life while you're at it. And hey, given the ever-increasing stresses put upon us by over-stimulation from ongoing world events, unplugging and retreating to the ass-ends of some corner of Earth does sound tempting. Still, take it from someone who did spend a spell living in one of those ass-ends of the Earth: shit gets real boring real fast. You gotta' be quite content with the humdrum life, because there ain't much else that'll get your jimmies rustled. Not for the ADHD inclined, is what I'm sayin'.

Anyhow, Ecovillage. As this is something of a more 'earthly' concept from Natural Life Essence, the music on hand gets quite groovy and dubby for much of its runtime. Saving Water even whips out the melodica for a jam over its ultra-lazy rhythms, while Chant adds some simulated throat singing (I assume, since it doesn't sound much like a sample). Elsewhere, Fire Storm Ritual ups the tempo to prog-psy levels, though retains rather mostly broken beats for its duration, all the while reminding me of AstroPilot in the process (whoo, acid!).

Overall, a generally uplifting, positive vibe is maintained, as though we're bearing witness to a community in high spirits going about their daily activities. Hey, you didn't have to sell the idea of an Ecovillage that hard, Juan Pablo. You had me at 'environmentally sustainable arable society' alone. How's the internet connection though?

Nacht Plank - Echo Ark

...txt: 2014/2022

For as much as I've talked about his labels, his collaborations, and his influence upon modern ambient techno circles in general, I sure haven't covered much of Lee Norris' solo work. Indeed, of the twenty-seven items I have tagged with his name within this blog's archives, only four are of Lee on his own. And most of those tend to be Nacht Plank items, though that's not terribly surprising as it's the alias he's most often released under. Yeah, Metamatics and Norken may have given him more early momentum, but Nacht Plank seems to be where he feels most free in his musical journeys.

And that may also be why I haven't come back to it often. Alien was an interesting album with analogue '70s weirdness going for it, but boy do I need to be in a particular mood to enjoy it. Which is more than could be said for the raw experimentation I heard on Broad Tape Band. And as for Third Sacraments Council, well, it's certainly a solid slice of hour-long ambient drone, but again, only good for particular moods (chiefly, 'sweepy beddy-bye time'). All this is to say I needed something rather particular for me to indulge in a Nacht Plank release again.

And this Echo Ark album, that certainly looked to fit the bill. Just the cover art alone, EPCOT Center as viewed through some alternate lens, already sparks so many creative possibilities. The near-naive optimism of Disneyfied retro-futurism, twisted into some abstract tonal counterpoint, a lasting legacy of human hubris in the face of a society deformed from its former glory. I'm not saying Echo Ark is all that – indeed, maybe Lee presents this album with just as much Utopian idealism as Tomorrowland always envision. Given these colour tones though, I suspect not.

Opening Shepherd Satelite is a rather tranquil start though, the analogue bleeps and bloops kept mostly to a steadying heartbeat while synth pads gently slide and glide throughout- Oh, wait, things just took a tonal shift. Now we're in weirdly ominous territory, with additional transistor chatter. Did... did something happen? Has the grand plan fallen upon hard times? Well, whatever the case, following that is a near twenty-six minute long excursion of tranquil field recording manipulations, melancholy synths, and even a little pitter-patter of rhythm burbling to the surface now and then. Aminita, the piece is called, and if it don't conjure primordial vistas as seen through some viewscreen on the Prometheus (the one orbiting Solaris, I mean), I don't know what will.

The rest of Echo Ark (three tracks averaging a dozen minutes each) play out in similar fashion: field recordings, wistful synth pad melodies, light use of experimental sounds and effects. Overall a rather pleasant outing, especially considering the more foreboding tone the second half of Shapherd Satelite suggested. I guess even Lee couldn't get quite as cynical as some do whenever talking about the overtly celebratory nature of EPCOT's future vision for mankind.