Nomad - Changing Cabins

Capitol Records: 1991

Nomad’s ultra-mega hit Devotion was among the first EDM tunes that I noticed, even before 2 Unlimited. The reason for this was Devotion placed higher in the tracklist of the CD they were both featured on (Dance Mix ‘92, for those who care - man, was that ever an influential CD…). I didn’t think much of it then, figuring it just a filler track compared to the up-tempo jams on offer, and would skip it whenever I threw that disc on. Of course, I was a silly young teenager who had a lot to learn about electronic music, but we all start somewhere.

Now, I think Devotion is brilliant, a perfect blend of many wonderful things that made cross-over house popular in the early 90s. The oh-so soulfully sweet chorus, simple enough that it’ll lodge in your head and have you repeating it long after the track’s passed by. Charming production tricks like stadium cheers (thanks, KLF), tinny hooks, bobbing baselines, and subtle bloops abound, plus a rap by a white Brit that’s far from embarrassing. And pads! My god, those perfect pads! They’re barely noticeable, tucked well in the background, yet the dreamy vibe of the song would be utterly lost without them. Even the video’s got that “only in ’91” magic. Yes, I do say Devotion deserves its classic status.

So who the devil was Nomad, and why didn’t they have any more classics? Well, Damon Rochefort, the main brains behind Nomad (name’s a giveaway) seemed to have several other interests he wanted to pursue, and charting big may have given him the financial security to do so. Makes sense, but it’s also possible he explored all he wanted to with this album, Changing Cabins.

Simply put, nearly every variation of house that existed by ’91 can be found here. You got the American-influenced diva stuff, with Sharon Dee Clarke providing most of the pipes. There’s Balearic vibes in Higher Than Heaven, Latin rhythms in Barcelona, and Jamaican toastin’ with The Raggamuffin Number. Devotion also has an upbeat sibling, Just A Groove, which was initially just as successful but is now mostly forgotten, never finding its way onto ‘Old School Anthems’ comps.

Yet, with all these influences on display and production to back it up, Changing Cabins lacks any real identity of its own. In a market that had competition from The KLF, 808 State, and The Shamen - not to mention the burgeoning underground rave scene - simply paying tribute to your inspiration wasn’t enough to stand out from the pack. British acid house had the distinction of being a melting pot of several forms of music, often within the same track. Aside from Devotion and Just A Groove, there’s little of that here, merely playing things straight on a track to track basis.

Changing Cabins isn’t a poor album, but it doesn’t hold surprises or hidden treasures time somehow forgot. If British house of the early 90s holds little interest, just stick with Devotion. Nearly everyone else has.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Beat The Devil's Tattoo

Vagrant Records: 2010

This is a rock album.

*waits for 90% of readers to leave*

More specifically, this is a ‘rawk’ album.

*waits for half of remaining readers to leave*

In fact, I’d even peg this as Brit ‘rawk’, though some may call it ‘shoegaze’.

*waits for nearly everyone else to leave*

For those left, don’t expect this to be much of a review. I don’t know anything about this group, beyond what their Last.fm bio provides (based out of West Coast of America, been around for over a decade, some tumultuous issues with band members over the years). Nor am I much inclined to do more research than that. This is a style of music that barely registers on my Interest Barometer, perhaps due to an overexposure of it during the 90s when Oasis and Blur were Next Big Things.

So why do I have this? Simple answer: their name piqued my curiosity, as I’m sure it did yours. How could it not? Black Rebel Motorcycle Club? Oh, God, I just got’s ta’ hears what they sounds like! Maybe it’ll be an awesome Steppenwolf tribute. Or maybe crazy-ass metal! Perhaps it’s some quirky IDM experimental thing using a totally ironic handle. Come on, Record Shop Man, let me hear some!

Really, all I wanted to hear was rock music that ‘rawked’, guitar tones that either built intense walls of distortion or were dragged through gravel pits, and drumming that wouldn’t sound out of place in a pub or garage. Expectations were met, and I gave Record Shop Man some digital dimes for a copy.

There were some nice bonuses too. Peter Hayes, their singer, gets plenty of treatment on his vocals, sounding like something you’d expect to hear at Glastonbury dawn (or a Chemical Brothers collab’). A definite influence of 60s rock is present, with folksy ditties and psychedelic sounds creeping in here and there. And plenty of catchy hooks and charming choruses abound, rounding out a solid overall listening experience.

Is this a great album? Well, I like it, and though it’ll only cross my ears once every year or two, that’s still far more often than anything I’d be willing to hear from bands like Coldplay or post-2000 U2. For all I know, Devil’s Tattoo has been lauded and bestowed multiple kudos from Pitchfork, NME, and several trendy rock publications. Or maybe it’s been heavily criticized as derivative and cheap, a shameless sell-out of an album that decries their earlier output. Again, that’s research I don’t care to do.

After all, the music here gives me warm, fuzzy feelings, and in the end, isn’t that all that matters?

302 Acid - 302 Acid 0005

em:t: 2005

I’ve been listening to my music alphabetically for nearly a year now, yet am only in the middle ‘C’s. Even if we assume I listened to an album a day (absurd) it seems like an inordinate amount of time with very little gain. I don’t have that much music, do I? Heh, you’d be surprised, but no, not that much. One thing has held up the queue on occasion though, and that’s the acquisition of new music. An early rule was, were I to purchase something that fell before my current position, that release would be next instead, then carry back on in order where I left off. Simple enough, but for the point I have a habit of buying music in bunches. As I did this past day. So, we leave the ‘C’s for the time being to go back to the beginning, all the way to numbers in fact.

This also presents something of a challenge for yours truly. Reviewing material that’s been sitting in my collection for awhile, that’s easy. Even if I’ve only listened to it once or twice, I’ve still had plenty of time to form thoughts on it. But tackling fresh music doesn’t offer such luxury. Unless it’s some bona-fide classic I’ve already heard tons, chances are I’m heading into these cold and, unlike my TC days, won’t be listening to it repeatedly before writing about it. After all, I only listen to these once on my portable before moving on (Rule #2!), and I’ll need to crank out a review for that too.

Dang, that’s half my self-imposed word count already. Alright, 302 Acid. Lessee…

Well, I’m in luck. Discogs lacks info about this trio, and Last.fm isn’t much help either. Apparently a live PA act, they haven’t released anything since this debut full-length. That simplifies things.

Not an easy sound to pin down, they run the gamut of downtempo and chill. You got abstract glitch (Six), droning synth washes that cover the full spectrum of mood (Mortariggus and Nocturnum be dark, Calibrations be high in the clouds), bubbly psychedelic dub that seems influenced from either Bill Laswell (Push Button) or Simon Posford (Quest), and various other dabblings scattered throughout. Don’t take these comparisons as suggestion that 302 Acid lacks a style of their own though, as everything on this album is distinct enough to stand out from the crowd. Trouble is, in showcasing their diversity, the album lacks cohesion, moving through different segments that, while interesting, can be jarring.

It’s a shame there’s little else to be found about them, as the ideas present hint at something that could have developed into intriguing possibilities - a melding of early Warp records experiments and Twisted Records chill, if you will. As it stands, 302 Acid is a fine pick-up should you be curious, but not an essential one.

Michael Brook - Cobalt Blue

Virgin: 1992

So here’s the story. I was discovering ambient proper for the first time and, like all doe-eyed newbies to a genre, didn’t know who I should be looking for. Fortunately, there was this thing called the internet and, by typing the word “ambient” into search engines like Alta Vista and Webcrawler, I stumbled upon various text-only websites consisting of lists and the odd review. “Sweet,” says I, “look at all these albums.” But, a dilemma!

Being on such a thrifty teenager budget, I can afford only one CD at a given time (stop sniggering, you kids, this is pre-Napster era). Even worse, I’m stuck in the hinterlands of Canada, where the only non-Top 40 music you’ll find in a given shop is country or blues rock. Fortunately, there’s an ace up my sleeve; or rather, a mother in Vancouver. By sending her a request, she can pick anything up in the city's many record shops. What to get, though? Hm, this Brian Eno guy appears highly on all the Top 10 lists. Music For Airports? Guess I’ll give that a shot. Time passes, and Mum informs me that the shop she went to didn’t have Music For Airports. They did recommend something else, however, that’s like Brian Eno: Michael Brook’s Cobalt Blue.

And that’s how I’m talking about it in the here and now. Though an incorrect purchase, damn if it wasn’t a good one.

Heck, the Eno brothers even show up on a couple tracks (Slow Breakdown, Red Shift, and a few others listed later), lending Brook their talents with distinctive Eno sounds. Ol’ Michael’s the real star of his album though, crafting several wonderful, lovely pieces with various guitar tones as the main focus. There’s the odd dabble into something wordly (Skip Wave) but Mediterranean moods dominate. And don’t let the Eno association fool you, as this isn’t noodly drone ambient. Nay, there’s percussion to be found, bass slaps, a multitude of different instruments, tempos, and even vocal samples, all served up with ethereal production gloss that’s astounding for the year it was released in.

There is a gripe to be had, however: song length. They just don’t last long, and each tune seems filled with musical ideas that beg to be further explored but instead come across like dense jams. It’s no surprise the best songs (Andean’s otherworldliness, Ultramarine’s other otherworldliness, Urbana’s tribalism, and Ten’s tranquility) have proper beginnings and ends, containing cohesive musical narratives throughout their running times, short though they still may be.

Fortunately, it isn’t a deal breaker. Chances are you’ve heard Michael Brook's style at some point - what, you thought The Edge came up with the Infinite Guitar sound in With Or Without You? - but any true connoisseur of ambient music needs to seek this album out. You may not be so lucky to have a mother accidently get it for you.

Various - Club Europa (Original TC Review)

Quality Music: 1994

(2012 Update:
So this was going to happen eventually, coming across something I've already written a review for in my alphabetical listening order. Like those other old TranceCritic reviews, I'll just repost them here with an 'Update' paragraph.

To be honest though, there's not much to update - my thoughts on an 18 year old compilation isn't going to change much in a few years. It's interesting to note, however, that electronic music is currently seeing a commercial push that definitely exceeds that of the euro-dance era. Not that I'm surprised, as most current dance-pop reminds me of euro-dance, save production quality ...and the unfortunate loss of galloping rhythms.)

IN BRIEF: Typical.

These Random Reviews can be cruel sometimes, as it might expose material in our collections that we may be a little embarrassed to own. There certainly are a couple choices since TC’s inception that I’ve nearly shirked from doing, but I am wholly committed to honoring the rules of this unique feature we offer (for those just joining us, a Random Review is quite literally picked randomly from our personal music archives; I personally just close my eyes and reach out for one). I suppose one could argue if I don’t really care for such releases anymore, why do I still own it? Well, once you start a serious music collection, it’s very difficult to part with anything, even if you only pull it out to listen once every few years anymore. Humans: aka The Illogical Pack-Rat.

We all have to start somewhere, though, and for many North Americans first discovering electronic music, euro-dance from the early 90s was their catalyst. Simply put, the stuff was everywhere, promoted to a degree electronic music has seldom seen since. Mainstream radio stations had dedicated programs, music channels had regular hours showcasing videos, and it certainly was accessible for all to enjoy at safe gatherings like weddings, sports events, and high-school dances (unlike that questionable ‘rave’ music where people want to do, like, drugs, and stuff, heh). It also didn’t hurt that the music had some of the best pop-hooks ever written for electronic music in the post-italo era. A glance at the tracklist above will undoubtedly bring the choruses to songs like Get-A-Way and Go Go (Love Overload) rushing back into the heads of anyone who was within earshot of them fifteen years ago.

So, yeah, ridicule if you want that I still have something like this in my collection. I take no shame in occasionally enjoying the musical equivalent of Paxil, especially when the 21st Century variety of euro-dance is utter crap.

That bit of bloggy confessional said, Club Europa honestly isn’t that remarkable of a compilation.

Fact of the matter is there were tons of dance compilations at the time of its release, and many of the big hits on here could be found on countless other CDs. Get-A-Way, Let The Beat Control Your Body, The Key, The Secret, Go Go, Piece Of My Heart, Take A Freefall - all saw regular compilation rotation in Canada alone. A smattering of minor hits essentially rounds out the rest (Face II Face’s I Want You being the best of the lot), most of which is standard euro-dance fare: buzzy synth riffs, a chick singing on the chorus, a silly rap verse or two... Ultimately, Club Europa is a worthy used-shop pick-up if you’re missing a few key songs for your collection, but hardly essential.

With the critical analysis out of the way, now for some fun. It’s time to play Amazing Euro Trivia!

Sometimes one of the fun things when looking back at these old compilations is to see where a lot of the names ended up and who was often ghost-writing in the studios. For instance, 2 Unlimited producers Phil Wilde and Peter Bauwens were behind C.B. Milton, a singer who had quite a powerful soulful delivery considering he was performing dance-pop. Tatjana, who’s Feels Good introduced the former model to the world of euro (and would go on to have the hit Santa Maria), continues to release albums to this day. Most surprising is the inclusion of Eartha Kitt, a legend in the world of film, cabaret, and Batman; here, her disco hit Where Is My Man? is given a rather bog-standard euro spin, but her unique singing/purr is just as memorable as ever. And of course, dedicated happy hardcore fanatics should be aware of Q-Tex and their Power Of Love (presented here in what might be daftly described as ‘epic-euro’).

Perhaps one of the few things that does make Club Europa a little more distinct from your run-of-the-mill euro compilation is the inclusion of so many releases from Abfarht Records. Seekers of old-school house are probably quite aware of that collective’s classic moody single Alone (It’s Me), but Torsten Fenslau, Jens Zimmerman, and Nosie Katzmann would go on to produce several euro-dance hits before Fenslau was prematurely killed in a car accident. Their most famous, of course, was Culture Beat’s Mr. Vain, but Piece Of My Heart and River saw some decent chart action as well. Unfortunately, some of their other material offered here - The Sunny Side Of Life and Kim Sanders’ Tell Me That You Want Me - just don’t hold up well at all.

And I guess that wraps up this Random. Not really much here, to be honest. Club Europa is about as straight-forward a euro compilation from the mid-90s as you’re about to find in your used shops. I can’t give it a high recommendation since it doesn’t offer anything terribly unique, but euro fans will probably still enjoy it if they happen to have a couple extra bucks burning a hole in their pocket.

As for these Randoms, hopefully the next one will be better. Maybe I’ll pull that two-CD Platipus Records compilation next time. Worryingly, though, I know I have a Trance Voice lurking about somewhere too...

Various - Club Cutz Volume 7

BMG Music Canada: 1996

Ah, Club Cutz. Now there's some history! Fine, it was strictly a Canadian thing, but at one point it was among my country’s premiere compilation series, rubbing shoulders with other greats like Dance Mix, DJ Line and Chris Sheppard’s Pirate Radio Sessions. After moderate interest in early editions mostly featuring house, the comp producers changed gears when euro-dance gained steam, and found a simple formula for success: be the first to have that hot new dance single everyone needed, and watch the sales skyrocket. What Is Love, Tonight Is The Night, Another Night, More & More …um, Cotton Eye Joe - all made their major Canadian debuts on Club Cutz.

Then, to earn the truly big bucks, the CDs also featured well-produced dance covers of 70s rock staples, an effective tactic in attracting the ‘housewife looking to let her hair down’ demographic that I guess existed in the early 90s. At least, they were the ones requesting “that dance version” of More Than A Feeling and What’s Up at weddings.

Club Cutz 7 truly was the series’ last great hurrah. The must-have hit single? Shut Up (And Dance With Me) from Sin With Sebastian. Even my non-dance friends fell sway to its goofball charm. Me, I preferred the unabashed euro fare of First Base’s Love Is Paradise.

Half the other tracks consist of fun but otherwise forgotten slices of euro. Chances are their hooks have been cannibalized by whatever contemporary dance-pop beast exists at a given time, but those wonderful galloping rhythms could forever be lost to the 90s.

The rest features big gay house and garage, including that Deep Dish remix of De’Lacy’s Hideaway that was making the rounds. Yep, there be divas galore, something of a retro return for the series, and thus no dance cover of 70s rock. No, Tainted Love doesn’t count. Besides, Senor X’s version’s not that good, and whenever I hear it, I can’t help but think of giant squid. Yes, there’s an amusing anecdote there, but I’m running out of self-imposed word-count space.

Even with this edition’s success, one could tell the good times at the Club Cutz camp were ending. Not only cannibalistic, dance-pop is a fickle beast and the tides of change were well under way in ’96. Euro dance was stuck in a creative rut, follow-up singles and albums failing to reach the highs of two years past. European shores started noticing fresher sounds from the lands of trance, while American clubs saw glamour in hip-hop. The main series lasted one more edition, then the label tapped Chris Sheppard to re-invent it in ’98 as Club Cutz 101, mashing together urban and club trance into continuous mixes. They made it all the way to 606, so I guess it was successful, but it clearly lacked the charm of its euro years. Thanks to downloading, gone were the days of track exclusivity, and so too was the anticipation of seeing what a new Club Cutz would feature.

Plastikman - Closer

Novamute: 2003

Plastikman is Richie Hawtin, a very important person in the world of techno. A part of Detroit’s second generation, he was instrumental in de-Eightiesfying the genre, ushering in a 'less-is-more' aesthetic for a new era. Unfortunately, due to his near-perfect production, rumours persisted that he was a robot, and a self-image celebrating chrome-dome geekery didn't help. Sensing distress, a kindly German named Sven saved him from an existence of droidhood, and Richie regained his humanity through various acts of debauchery. Having done so, he embarked upon the most noble of white human pursuits: corporate shilling of self-stylized brands. Something like that anyway.

As much fun as that paragraph was to write, it's a horrible lead-in for this here album titled Closer, the third and (so far) last full-length released under the Plastikman banner. For that matter, I'm not sure what an effective lead-in would be, beyond the dry particulars. It’s not a popular album and, when discussing Hawtin’s legacy, barely brought up. Fans were confounded by it, casuals were uninterested, and the techno scene at large shrugged it off, figuring Richie would make a proper dancefloor album later.

Still, I’d argue it’s at least an important album. If anything, Closer was ground zero for the minimal scene’s rise in the middle 00s, as all the tricks that turned into clichés are present: simple lyrics spoken with pitched down vocals, plink-plonk production, white noise wank, etc. In 2003, such sounds were still tucked in the realms of experimental labels like Mille Plateaux. Hearing it on a Plastikman album legitimatized it as where techno should go next, and Hawtin made damned sure he promoted the hell out of the sound on his M_nus label, not just as a form of music, but as a way of life. Erm, yeah…

If you found the minimal wave ridiculous, then Closer isn’t going to convert you - best to stay away. For those who didn’t grow tired of it …well, this album’s still a bit of a chore. It’s the sort that can only be appreciated in a single sitting, but takes forever to build any momentum. All too often progress is undone by Hawtin’s need to detour into sound effect gimmickry, the worst offender being the middle track Slow Poke, which is nothing but sound effect gimmickry. I’ve listened to Closer at least a half-dozen times now, and still the only highlights for me are those crunchy claps in the second half.

That said, Hawtin succeeded in crafting an album that works in spite of itself. The mood is kept tight and claustrophobic, enveloping you into a dark journey of paranoia that you want to take in its entirety - I’ll bet those crunchy claps wouldn’t sound so cool if I hadn’t put up with hissing nonsense beforehand. While this is by no means revolutionary, it is effective, and if that’s enough for you in a concept album, then by all means get closer to, um, Closer.

Nine Inch Nails - Closer

Island Records: 1994

Also known as that “fuck you like an animal” song. In fact, I think it’s all anyone knows about this song. Well, except for the opening kick-snare, which immediately alerts people that the “fuck you like an animal” song is starting.

And no, I didn’t go back on my word from the last review. This is electronic music. Nearly all industrial music is to a degree. However, because it’s primarily the rock scene that latched onto the sound, it's often overlooked when considering the whole of electronic music’s heritage. There’s more to it than that, of course, but I’ll get into it when I’ve an album more appropriate.

Meanwhile, let’s talk Nine Inch Nails. Or, maybe you can tell me more? Truth is I’ve barely given Trent Reznor’s band notice over the years. What I heard, I thought was cool (especially that “fuck you like an animal” song everyone was playing!) but my bed was firmly in the ‘techno’ camps back when NIN was blowing up, and my limited purchasing power reflected that. Fortunately, now that I have disposable income, I can go back and rediscover that which I foolishly bypassed. Or, in this case, gather up friends’ CD collections whenever they’re looking to offload them.

As a single, Closer is an odd one. Apparently it was released as a double-digi pack, but with only one CD within, the second of which had to be purchased at a later date. Guess that’s one way to test fanbase loyalty, and I’d be astounded if anyone could pull it off now.

Of the two CDs, there isn't much difference in terms of tone. The first has the version of Closer everyone’s familiar with even to this day (“Hey, Bro! It’s that ‘fuck you like an animal’ song!”), a funky Jack Dangers remix that almost sounds like what a Lenny Kravitz cover would end up as, and various other industrial-metal, noise, and sonic experimental cuts scattered about the rest. The second CD mostly reworks other songs from The Downward Spiral, the main highlight being an awesome EBM-thrash version of Closer called Closer To God. Compared to the first CD, these cuts are a nice break from hearing Reznor constantly telling me he wants to fuck me like an animal (wait, huh?).

Overall, this is a solid single for fans of 90s industrial - the ironic-fascist, angst driven, cyberpunk sort. If you’re just looking for the “fuck you like an animal” song though, best stick with the simply titled track Closer .

Yes - Close To The Edge

Elektra/Rhino: 1972/2003

What’s this? I go and say I’m back to reviewing electronic music, and the second thing I review is a prog rock album? Scandalous. Didn’t I mention that when I’m reviewing everything I have in alphabetical order, I meant everything? Heh, how remiss of me. Don’t worry, folks, I still have more electronic music than most other forms in my collection. It’s just a coincidence that this would be next in line.

Besides, there’s some electronics in Yes. Rick Wakeman, the group’s most famous of rotating keyboardists, provides plenty of spritely sprinkles, swirly pads, organ chuggery, and Moogy musicality for those who dig on that sort of thing. In fact, the whole band is on point with this album, coming off the commercial success of Fragile, but yet to get too far up their asses with Topographic. Close To The Edge is the perfect middle-ground of those two, containing the stunning twenty-minute titular song to open, followed by a ten-minute folksy-ditty-turn-orchestral-climax with And You And I, and a ten-minute rock-funker with Siberian Khatru as a closer. Come for the catchy hooks and choruses, stay for the marvelous musical wizardry.

If you happen to obtain the Rhino re-issue, as I did, you also get some extra …things. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been into the rock scene proper, but studio run-throughs and alternative takes don’t interest me - if I’m going to hear a different version, give me the concert renditions! There’s also a (LOL) single cut of Close To The Edge (essentially the rockin’ Total Mass Retain portion of the song …the big ones were often divided up into titled passages), plus a cover of Simon & Garfunkel’s America, which may be of interest to those who are also fans of that duo.

I can see how this album wouldn’t be appealing if you simply want boom-boom, la-la ‘choons’, as it’s not even a ‘gateway to prog’ kind of album. This is an album made by people, and for people, who are intrigued by the potential possibilities music has to offer, and pushing one’s skill to discover that. All too often prog rockers overstep their ability; Yes got as close to that edge as they could here (hurr-hurr) and came away with one of the finest prog rock albums ever crafted. If you consider yourself a fan of creative music even in general, you owe it to yourself to at least give the titular track a listen. Hey, it’s only twenty minutes out of your day.

Model 500 - Classics

R & S Records: 1993

Model 500 is Juan Atkins, a very important person in the world of techno. Often credited with being one of the Godfathers of the genre, his fame diminished as new upstarts took the techno mantle for themselves during the 90s. His career floundered for a while, which led to depression and over-eating. Determined to reclaim prestige for his name and his waistline, Atkins developed a bold new diet, which focused on the consumption of high amounts of protein to stave of hunger cravings. Wait, I’m getting my Atkinses mixed up. Damn you, Webcrawler!

Yeah, me getting into el’ Juan’s techno legacy is pointless. With online essays, published books, and video documentaries about techno’s roots out there, more than enough material is available for the curious. I don’t see much talk of Model 500 though. Why is this? It’s not some obscure alias. No UFOs was a techno hit, back when the term ‘techno hit’ wasn’t even a thing. Maybe Cybotron was the sexier moniker.

Or perhaps there’s some merit to that nonsense I wrote in the first paragraph. Atkins never released a proper Model 500 album until the mid-90s, when much of the new Detroit blood was dominating talk. This here Classics collection was released a couple years before Deep Space (the Model 500 debut proper), and as a round-up of his 80s material, Classics is interesting, but not the most engaging listen.

The problem I have with this is it sounds too 80s for me. Hey, I like me some 80s, but when I throw on a techno album that has the word “classics” as the only word in the title, I go in with preconceived expectations. I want to hear proper futurism, and Classics simply doesn’t have that, no matter what the cover art suggests. I’ll grant it’s not Atkins’ fault that Yello forever dated “chiki-chikah” to the 80s, but there it is in Electric Entourage, and I’m left feeling “eh.” That said, cheers for tracks like No UFOs and Sound Of Stereo, which meet those stupid expectations (but jeers for making them the bookends of the whole album, muddying what little album flow there is further).

One of techno’s ongoing appeals is the sense that, no matter how advanced in technology we come, the music will always remain at least one step ahead - the best of what 80s techno has to offer still retains that. These tunes, however, don’t, instead coming off like 50s depictions of the year 2000: definitely futuristic in attempt, but now quirkily retro. Go in with this in mind, and Classics is a fun enough throw-on.