The Dust Brothers - Fight Club

Restless Records: 1999

Fight Club was an incredibly bold movie at the time, highly divisive in what audiences got out of it. Still, whether you agreed with its Gen-X rebellion manifesto or not, you couldn't deny its tight scripting and strong acting – not to mention such a shocking twist as *spoiler* Meat Loaf dying. Another positive consensus was a thumbs-up for the soundtrack, produced by studio wizards The Dust Brothers.

Simpson and King had quite the esteemed discography by the end of the '90s: Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique, Beck's Odelay, countless remixes and one-offs, plus some boy-band thing. Having accomplished so much in the field of regular ol' music, the duo must have been itching to stretch their creativity elsewhere. Enter David Fincher, a long time admirer of their work and in need of someone to score his new, edgy movie.

Regardless of fanboyism, The Dust Brothers were an excellent choice, being something of a staple of ‘90s music one way or the other. If the movie was to deconstruct that decade’s idealism, why not have the duo responsible for some of the all time classics of the era contribute as well? Plus, having an original score of electronic music was just the hip thing to do by that point. So sayeth The Lola, anyway.

Fight Club being a dark comedy and paranoid thriller (not to mention spiffy special effects showcase, like at the end when *spoiler* all the bombs go off) most of the music reflects that tone. Though a few light-hearted bits crop up (the Casio-samba of Corporate World, for instance), dark brooding passages make up the bulk of the tracks. Occasionally dusty trip-hop beats and psychedelic rock sampling break up the monotony, but for the most part we’re dealing with total score stuff.

Still, the movie had its share of pulse-pounding moments, and The Dust Brothers come correct on this front when called upon. Finding The Bomb doesn’t hold back on ramping the tension up as it plays out, while Stealing Fat has all the hallmarks of a mad capper going down. Incidentally, that track’s also where the kick-ass opening credit music lurks, which handily points out one of the unique things about this soundtrack.

Most original score albums will sequence the music as it was featured in the film, as a means of emulating the movie’s narrative. Not so with Fight Club. Bits are lumped together under titles that have little context to what was going down on screen, and the whole thing plays out more like a proper album of Dust Brothers music than a soundtrack. The duo insists it’s not be taken as such, but if they’re adamant about it, why arrange this CD this way? Label interference?

Whatever the case, Fight Club works exceptionally well as a standalone, but having visual context does add to the experience. Like when it’s revealed at the end of the movie that *spoiler*, those really were Marla’s clothes she was selling!

The Prodigy - The Fat Of The Land

XL Recordings: 1997

Fat Of The Land marks the end of what many fans consider the Holy Trinity of Prodigy albums, including Experience and Music For The Jilted Generation; fans that enjoyed their work in the ‘90s, anyway. I’ve no idea what the new generation thinks of the group that Liam Howlett built, though I can see them unable to handle his style if the remixes that came out with the recent re-release are anything to go by. Holy hell, are those ever fucking pointless and stupid. A lot of Prodigy’s music was already unashamedly ‘dumb’ to begin with, but it’s downright subtle compared to the bro-‘tard nonsense Zeds Dead and Noisia bring to the table.

Forget 'em. All we're concerned with here is the album proper. Fat Of The Land came out at the peak of 'electronica's push, where several UK acts were counted on to break America. Yet The Prodigy stood apart from other Great British Hopes like The Chemical Brothers and Underworld, growing ever brasher as the years wore on, and taking on thrashy punk attitudes as a giant middle finger to the capitalization of the underground scene they'd grown up in. Sure, we'll sign to your major, but you're gonna take us as we are, warts, rivets, and all.

Fat Of The Land had a degree of curious expectation going in. Lead singles Firestarter and Breathe proved they could create anthems on par with their peers, but surely a full album of that would tire quickly, and with no hope of topping those highs.

Then folks threw the album on, Smack My Bitch Up blasting from their speakers, blindsiding just about everyone with how damned good the tune was. Those fierce kicks! That snarling acid! That lush breakdown! Holy shit, they fucking did it! No way they can top- Oh yeah, Breathe! Damn, that's a good track too!

Fat Of The Land pretty much played out like that. Hearing Minefields, Narayan, Funky Shit, and Climbatize for the first time totally convinced you of The Prodigy's ability to adapt and diversify with the times while maintaining their take-no-prisoners, full-on musical attack. Not only were the new tunes fresh, but it helped contextualize the worn-out singles. Trust me when I say not many were looking forward to hearing Firestarter after a year of it. Narayan deserves extra props just for building anticipation for that squalling guitar riff again.

But that was then. Does the album hold up fifteen years on? Sort of. Make no mistake, Fat Of The Land is very much a product of its time: a big beat CD that would become one of the standards to meet in the ensuing years. Much like Experience before, it can’t escape the environment from which it was crafted. Fortunately, Howlett’s production remains as blunt, ferocious and superb as when it first hit the shelves, and I’ve no doubt they’d generate the same level of bedlam played out as they did when they were new. Fuck those current remixes.

Banco de Gaia - Farewell Ferengistan (Original TC Review)

Six Degrees Records: 2006

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


IN BRIEF: Banco’s back on form

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pantera - Far Beyond Driven

EastWest Records America: 1994

Whoa, when I said I was glad to be done with psy dub for a while, I didn't think I'd be going this far off the chakra path so soon! It’s quite a turnaround in tone from just a few CDs ago. Awesome!

Pantera’s one of those metal bands I seldom paid attention to when they were active, but should Metal Mike throw some on, I found my head nodding approvingly (sorry, never was much of a mosher; it don't jive with my rave-flailin'). As pioneers of the sub-sub-genre “groove metal”, it's little surprise my dance music trained ears would find some kinship with them. Those chugging bass lines and heavy rhythm guitar action… it’s the perfect meeting ground between thrash metal of the ‘80s and death metal of the ‘90s, with less of the technical wankery of the former, and less of the stupid of the latter. Well, as far as my limited metal knowledge is concerned anyway.

Far Beyond Driven marks the end of what many fans consider the Holy Trinity of Pantera albums, including Cowboys From Hell and Vulgar Display Of Power (is there any album cover more fucking metal than Vulgar?). Those first two had the distinction of breaking the band out of obscurity and securing their niche within the metal collective, but by ’94 that scene was going through plenty of changes, not to mention many bands had co-opted the bands style. If there was any time to make a stand, it was with this album. I’m assuming they succeeded if Far Beyond Driven’s held in just as high of regard.

Yeah, don’t go expecting brilliant analysis from this review. As I’ve said before, my enjoyment of a metal full-length only goes so far as how long I’m willing to put up with it. To be fair, I’ve come across plenty of such releases that do the trick, but if you want more intricate details regarding Far Beyond Driven, maybe check out Metal Reviews, or Metal Underground, or Angry Metal Guy, or… look, there’s plenty of proper metal review websites.

Anyhow, I like this album; or at least, it keeps my attention for the duration. Pantera expertly switch things up between all-out thrash and sludge-chug groove, such that I can’t even tell when songs stop and start unless there’s a studio fade-out. I seldom have a clue what sing-shouter Phil Anselmo’s going on about, and nor do I really care as “Dimebag” Darrell’s kick-ass guitar work almost always gets the spotlight. And those occasional nods to metal of old are also welcome changes of pace, including a cover of Black Sabbath tune Planet Caravan. D’aw, they can be mellow too.

Y’know, if the rest of Pantera’s discography is as solid as Far Beyond Driven, I should give it all a listen. Hm, the band’s been around since the early ‘80s. Didn’t realize that. What’s their first few albums sound like?

Oh my God! Aaahh…!!! *dies from spandex and hair spray*

Chromeo - Fancy Footwork (Original TC Review)

Vice Records: 2007

(2013 Update:
Chromeo may have been sincere in their music, but to many of their fans at the time, they were treated as little more than a novelty act. Straight-up hipster fests at most of their shows and, as with all things hipster "enjoyed", Chromeo became passe as that scene turned their ironic tastes elsewhere in short order (or just grew the fuck up). That, or Chromeo signing to a major label for their third album, Business Casual, made them no longer cool - retro electro-funk pop's only cool if it's some indie act playing it, I guess.

Of course, if you genuinely like this sound, Fancy Footwork hasn't dated in the slightest. It was intentionally dated to begin with, after all.)


IN BRIEF: “If it ain’t broke...”, etc.

When Chromeo first made their presence felt on Tiga’s label Turbo Recordings, they were surrounded by a huge roster of up-and-coming names, each pushing and shoving for attention in a quickly crowded electro-renaissance. In spite of this, Dave 1 and Pee Thug still stood out from the pack thanks to their ultra-stripped electro funk sound and playfully charming come-ons. They grabbed your attention because, unlike many of their brethren whom fallen by the wayside, you honestly couldn’t tell if their ‘80s indulgence was ironic or sincere. Oh, and they had some damn fine catchy hooks too.

Half a decade on, the landscape of dance music has certainly changed; the era of electroclash seems but a distant memory, even if trace elements of kitsch can still be found on occasion. Chromeo were a perfect fit for the retro-revival then, but now that tastes and trends have moved on to encompass indie-rock overtones and navel-gazing minimalism, has the duo found it necessary to change with the times as well? With their sophomore effort, the answer is a resounding “Gosh no!”

Fancy Footwork finds them picking up right where they left off on She’s In Control. Talk boxes. Roland 808s. Analogue synths. And songs of women. Lots of women. Electro funk vibes and synth-pop melodies dominate once more, and Chromeo find little reason to move out of their comfortable niche. Because of this, some might figure the duo as nothing but a one-trick pony. However, this strikes me more as a definitive statement of how they wish their act to be perceived. You might have been able to knock them for trend-jumping in the beginning but not here. This sound is more unique now than it was half a decade ago.

And you can forget the ‘irony’ suppositions as well. Yes, it was easier to pin it on them before, but that was due to the overwhelming number of acts surrounding them that were being ironic; Chromeo were merely caught in their wave. Now, the duo stands independent from taste-makers, quite happy to no longer be trapped within trends. As such, they’re bolder in presenting themselves, secure in the knowledge they have the chops to deliver their sound sincerely and without constant comparisons to current names (they’ll never be rid of the ones from the ‘80s though).

But don’t for a second take this as though they’ve become serious musicians. Chromeo’s songs are still filled with playful witticisms and willful pop. It’s just much easier to buy into the fun of it without feeling like a trendwhore. If their Intro doesn’t win you over with its vintage synths and “Chro-mee-oh, ooh-oh ” chant, then you may as well write the rest of Fancy Footwork off, as it’s clear you won’t be able to buy into their sound.

And while the music itself is mostly straight-forward and entertaining, it’s the lyrics that win you over. Of course, their pick-up lines like “You got a boy like him, a man like me, and you know that’s just not the same” and “..call me when you’re home alone; call me when you’re freaky, call me when you’re nasty, call me when you want to mmh” are amusing but Dave 1's simple tales of relationships come in various guises. The hilariously Freudian Momma’s Boy for instance, or Pee Thug’s so-simple-it’s-sound advice on how to deal with a testy relationship (“take her to the movies and you’re gonna work it all out” - even Dave 1 seems stunned by it). Elsewhere, smoother moments such as 100% and Outta Sight show a more thoughtful side to their writing. Probably the only instance where the duo’s wit comes into question is on Tenderoni, where the title is often repeated like a woeful intent to create hip slang.

All this being said, there isn’t anything on here that could be deemed a standout hit. Titular track Fancy Footwork, with its bumping rhythms and simple call for dancing on the floor, is the closest we get, with Bonafide Lovin and Waiting 4 U holding the silver and bronze. The rest, while all nicely digestible synth ‘n’ funk, remains unabashedly singular in execution - it doesn’t exactly sound canned, but nor does it sound original. It’s like they’re appetizers rather than a full-course meal. Ultimately, those inventive or lingering moments that could help lift the album above something more than a pleasing diversion are missing.

Still, if you have nary a problem with light-weight happy-fun electro, such criticisms probably won’t be of much concern. Chromeo’s act is in fine form, and unless the combination of poppy hooks and hot-neon imagery leaves a lingering bitterness in your ears, you’ll come from Fancy Footwork with a smile on your face.

Various - Family Tree

Eardream Music: 2010

Ah, no! I've had my fill of psy dub, really I have. Going through the entire Fahrenheit Project series from Ultimae, plus a brief detour into spa-a-a-a-ce, has sated my palette for at least a good month. Damn you, alphabetical stipulations. And here I was, thankful for covering different music again. *sigh*

The funny thing is I nearly bypassed this one altogether. Family Tree comes care of Eardream Music, a tiny web-label that's released but a mere half-dozen digi-comps in the few years it’s existed. I stumbled upon this one at the always awesome Ektoplazm, based off a recommendation list from website runner Basilisk. Cool and all, but as I'm sure many folks can relate, downloading from these free music portals creates a tendency of nabbing releases in bunches, some of which get lost in the shuffle and buried within the convoluted file management of hard drives. I'm pretty O.C.D. about keeping track of what I download, and Family Tree still plunged to the depths of my folders.

Long story short, I only just now happened upon this sucker again, which likely means there wasn't much to it that made me want to listen again (assuming I even bothered to play Family Tree when I first downloaded it). I certainly don’t recognize any names here, and nor should I as most of them haven’t released anything anywhere else (so sayeth The Discogs).

The most prolific of the bunch is Tor.Ma, otherwise known as Rafael Hernandez to his fam’ - of course, being prolific here means releasing at least one album, but dude’s got three under his belt. His tune for Family Tree is about what you’d expect from most psy dub music, though it’s got some funky bounce going for it, almost a proper reggae vibe were it not for occasional effects dragging it from the realms of trippy ganja music. In fact, save that and the final of these five tunes, this could almost be considered a reggae dub release.

Each producer does offer a different take on the template too. Austero’s Bettie Page opts for a house jam. Nako sees fit to bring the rude-wobbly side of dub music to our ears in 3 Corazones (no, not dubstep). Prefer your Jamaican jams coming from space? Ish Dub & Juan Cano got you covered with the spliff-bliss Good Bye South Africa.

Yeah, yeah, these tunes aren’t reinventing the wheel, and if I’m honest (am I anything but?), the production’s stiff, missing that extra little mixdown polish that sets great releases apart from the merely decent. Or maybe I’ve just been horribly spoiled by Ultimae this past week - it’s like going down to a 19” monitor after enjoying a glorious 32”. Still, if you favour these sounds, you’ll be well sorted with Family Tree. Hey, it’s a freebie download, and far worse music has been unleashed upon the interwebs than this tidy little collection.

Überzone - Faith In The Future

Astralwerks: 2001

After the successes of Chemical Brotherhood, The Prodigious, and Fatboy Slimstyles, record execs seeing dollar signs figured any ol' 'electronica' act making those break'n'beats musics would keep the cash flowin'. Thus began the proliferation of albums featuring breaks artists and whatever sub-genres they brought. BT and Hybrid had the progressive side of things covered; Adam Freeland brought the nu-skool to attention; DJ Icey repped Florida state; and the West Coast acidy chemical breaks vibe featured The Crystal Method and this Überzone fella’. You remember him, right? C’mon, his City Of Angels material was among the highlights of that era of breaks.

Still, though chemical breaks never died, the mid-‘90s was its only peak of popularity - it even beat out big beat by a couple years in America, though it clearly remained a product of the rave scene with little true crossover potential. The Crystal Method managed it by combining The Chemical Brothers’ block rockin’ sound with their acid, but Überzone was something different. He skewed closer to the electro side of things, finding a nifty, skippity-scratch blend between Florida and West Coast. It was unlike anything else even within the chemical breaks scene, propelling Mr. Wiles to the forefront of the genre. How, then, does one go about marketing the guy, when his sound is so underground?

Hedging bets, apparently. Faith In The Future has all the hallmarks of a big beat album, checking off what was required of a crossover: slick production that can catch your ear while the radio’s playing, guest performers and collaborations, chill cuts for the chicks, and knowing nods to the true heads who’ve stuck things out through thick and thin. Fine, if that’s your aim, but by the year 2001, the crossover formula had grown stale, and Überzone’s debut was quickly forgotten in favor of any-and-all things nu-skool.

All of which actually makes Faith In The Future a pretty darn good album regardless, because Überzone doesn’t fall into either of those camps. He’s an electro-funk guy, and if you don’t believe it, the opener Beat Bionic features veterans of the old school in talk-box action from Bart Thomas and Bigg Robb (of Zapp fame, though credited as Sure 2 B here), and scratch artist Davey Dave. Later in the album, none other than Afrika Bambaataa shows up with his SoulSonic Force for 2kool4skool, capably showing some nu-skool skill while keeping things retro-proper. Most of the album follows this form, with collaborations from Rennie Pilgrem and Ken Jordan (of The Crystal Method) expertly handled while Überzone cuts loose with his brand of electro-acid-funk. Rounding things out are pleasant enough chill tunes with Dreamtime and the titular cut, and the indie-rock warbler track (Frequency with Helmet front-man Page Hamilton) doesn’t drag, also a plus.

I cannot deny Faith In The Future coming off too polished if you prefer your breaks strictly underground, but as few others have ever emulated Überzone’s style, it’s still a fresh sounding album over a decade on.

Various - Fahrenheit Project - Part Seven

Ultimae Records: 2011

Who knows at this point whether Part 6 of Fahrenheit Project was intended to end the compilation series, or circumstances simply made it thus, but for whatever the reason it appeared that would be the final entry. Considering the highs it'd achieved, it also would have concluded on quite a limp note. No, better to do things proper-like and give the series a send-off it deserves. Well, one theory for Fahrenheit Project’s resurrection, after half a decade of sitting fallow.

First off, the cover art itself is something of a tribute to Ultimae of old. It retains the letter-box design (which’d been retired the same year), plus includes the circular graphic that graced many of the original covers before they were redone with new artwork (Part 3, which never received an update, also has it). And lo, Asura finally returns to the series. Oddly, most of the Ultimae regulars are absent: no Cell, no Carbon Based Lifeforms, and Aes Dana only provides his usual track arrangement. True, the latter two had albums forthcoming the same year, but it's a shame not to see them in any musical capacity.

That said, a few familiar names to the Ultimae legacy do crop up. The duo Circular had released their fourth album on the label, and Scann-Tec appeared on Part 6. Hol Baumann gets a credit as well, though it’s care of a remix on Final by a relatively unknown Max Million. A number of other established and fresh-faced acts round out the rest, including that AstroPilot dude again (I told you he was prolific!).

And the music? Chill, of course, though by this point Ultimae’s bread-and-butter was mellow prog psy and blissed ambient techno, and that’s the general vibe going on here. Heck, AstroPilot’s Memories Maze is incredibly brisk, almost breezing along at a proper trance pace. Meanwhile, Asura’s Millenium 3 does something I thought I’d never hear from this label: side-chaining. It’s not even subtle, that distinct pulsing-throb of pad work around the kicks front-and-center throughout the track. After hearing the technique abused by electro house producers and Markus Schulz disciples, I want to hate this track by default. As it plays through, however, I find myself enjoying it, sucked into Asura’s groovin’ little number. Of course, the reason for this is obvious: those other producers are shit, and Asura’s not.

All-in-all, Fahrenheit Project, Part 7 is a welcome addition to the series’ history. Though not quite reaching the highs of Parts 4 and 5, it easily stands on even ground with the early editions. If this does end up being the final entry, I can’t think of a better way of going out than with Solar Field’s OnFlow. It’s such an uplifting tune, forcing a silly grin upon your face as you reach over to the closest person to give them a big, sloppy hug; yet, a touch of melancholy permeates the mood as it fades out at the end. Sending Fahrenheit Project to the heavens, it seems.

Various - Absence Of Gravity

Sentimony Records: 2011

I bought the Fahrenheit Project collection back when it only included up to Part 6. Seems pointless, however, to do a retrospective of the series without also covering Part 7, so off to the Ultimae homepage I went to pick that up. Hopefully it would arrive in the mail on time to carry on here, and sure enough, it did. Wouldn’t you know it though, I went and gummed things up by buying more than just the one CD, forcing me to honor my alphabetical stipulation regarding new music. Don’t worry, folks, we’ll return to our regular Fahrenheits soon enough.

And what prompted me in picking up this curious little compilation called Absence Of Gravity? I’ve been jonesing for a follow-up to Tyler Smith’s Distant System album Spiral Empire for a while now, but unfortunately it appears the project’s been put on hold yet again. Thus, upon seeing a space psy-ambient collection among the third-party releases Ultimae distributes, I was an interstellar moth drawn to a spectral class O-Type star. Who cares if the cover looks a little corny, it’s just, um, going with a ‘90s retro vibe I bet. Yeah, that’s it! Send that CD on over, guys.

Absence Of Gravity has a tenuous theme going for it, something regarding the 50th anniversary of the first space walks. For the most part, it's stylistically similar to old Namlook records, so if you've felt the Braheny school of 'planetarium soundtracking' is too New Age for your taste, you'll be in fine hands here. There are a few psy dub trappings – how could there not be when acts like the prolific AstroPilot and dark psy chap Psyfactor crop up in the tracklist – but nothing that overwhelms the outwordly vibe going on. Instead, we get plenty of dark droning patches capturing the bleakness of deep space, swelling cosmic synths inspiring the grandeur of the cosmos, and the requisite samples of astro-radio chatter and scientific lectures or interviews.

Speaking of such, it's pretty cool hearing Russian cosmonauts on a few of these tracks. Mind, it'a not a huge surprise since this compilation comes care of the Ukraine-based Sentimony – no doubt many of these producers grew up following the Soviet's exploits into space. It’s refreshing to not run through the same ol' Apollo mission dialog nonetheless. And hey, Spectrum Vision brings us a tune titled Tunguska; funny stumbling across that so soon after Russia dealt with another meteor.

Somewhat surprisingly, Absence Of Gravity shows diversity even within its admittedly limited niche. I eat up space music like a black hole eats matter, but it’s a welcome contrast having a few Earth-bound moments like nature sounds in Reactive’s Free Search and ethnic chants in Chronos’ Endless Rotation (it is psy dub, after all). There’s pure ambient noodling early on the CD, brisk chill-out in the middle, and even spacey electro near the end. Overall, a solid collection of downtempo for those who agree space is the place.

Now, about that Distant System follow-up…

Various - Fahrenheit Project - Part Six

Ultimae Records: 2006/2008

What else could Ultimae do? Half a decade after emerging from the hinterlands of psy chill obscurity, the label was riding an astounding wave of musical success. Their tactic of interspersing albums from their roster with the Fahrenheit Project series probably could have been milked to this day, but that's boring. Nay, by the time Part 6 of this series came, changes were afoot, and perhaps sadly, this would be the last of the Fahrenheit Projects for some time.

Such changes included: launching new compilation-mix series such as Oxycanta and Albedo; heavier emphasis on artist albums; and, most crucially, signing more talent to Ultimae. For a label known for an almost glacial rate of releasing material, such a jump in activity was going to show a little initial strain. Those new series didn't last long, as the increased LP output – almost all which were ace – overshadowed many of them. Why bother, said the fans, with the compilations when much of the best material was on the albums? Fahrenheit Project succeeded because it was as much a sneak preview of such albums as it was a roster showcase, so it was in Ultimae's favour to offer their best material for the series. With names like Solar Fields, H.U.V.A. Network, and Carbon Based Lifeforms practically selling themselves to the faithful now, the Fahrenheit format was no longer required.

So it's in this transitional period we find Part 6. Again, regular Ultimae acts all show up, with a few outside contributors sprinkled about. Still, a notable difference rears its head compared the last few entries, in that there's a lack of CBL. Sync24 does offer one track, mind, but as the duo was working on their sophomore effort, it's possible they didn't have time for Fahrenheit this time out. Maybe Ultimae should have called in Asura? No, wait, he was working on a new album too.

At only nine tracks, this is the shortest of the series, and to be blunt, it isn’t anywhere near as good as the prior two. Granted, those were lofty peaks, but one can’t help but be disappointed they couldn’t maintain at a plateau instead of take a stumble. As with Part 3, the lack of diversity hurts, most of the artists sticking to tried-and-tested psy chill tropes. The production remains top notch of course, but track flow is serviceable at best, everything melding into the same psy-glitch-ambient-downtempo soup Ultimae’s known for.

One of the few surprising developments, however, comes midway, and care of Solar Fields. Instead of offering his typical brand of chill-out, he dives headfirst into the realms of prog psy on Levitate. He’d dabbled in the vicinity of that sound before, but always in a ‘slow trance’ fashion. This tune, though, is incredibly brisk, especially for Fahrenheit Project. It must have garnered him a good response, as his following album, Earthshine, was loaded with the stuff, such that even fans of regular ol’ trance took notice.

And then Ultimae’s exposure truly took off.