The Irresistible Force - Fish Dances (Original TC Review)

Ninja Tune: 1999

(2013 Update:
I feel like an idiot for not realizing this at the time, but Mixmaster Morris had done a remix of Coldcut's classic Autumn Leaves way back, which became something of a classic in itself. Well no wonder Ninja Tune invited him over to join their roster after the Force left Rising High. There's also some ropey info in this old review regarding the state of chill rooms. While it's true most of them had died out at regular parties, they've persisted in the psy scene, where Morris still occasionally plays out in. Erm, yeah, I've no excuse for that oversight on my part.

I should also mention there are two versions of Fish Dances out there, the other having an additional two remixes from Fila Brazilia and DJ Food. Just my luck I'd end up with the short one.)


IN BRIEF: A final dance from the Force.

Changing trends can be cruel. Mixmaster Morris, once a fixture in the chill scene, seems all but forgotten now. How could an individual whose star was as bright as The Orb’s disappear from the public eye? As with all things in musicdom, the answer is a change of tastes.

Morris’ brand of mellow, trippy ambience was a lovely soundtrack to many a backroom when rave parties were mostly an underground vibe; it wouldn’t be uncommon to see hippies and candy kids lounging together as the lengthy Force track Flying High pleasantly noodled out of speakers. Once club culture invaded the chill rooms though, most of Morris’ fans were shooed away. And when Moby’s Play blasted all traces of druggy connotations out of chill rooms with its bankable MOR tones, the old ambient masters’ fates were sealed: downtempo music was no longer the refuge for ravers, but rather their mothers.

Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. We mustn’t forget the influence Ninja Tune’s brand of trip-hop was having on folks. While they wouldn’t see the kind of commercial success reserved for Moby and co., their critical praise continued undaunted while psychedelic styles were regarded as old-hat.

Perhaps this is why Morris ended up on the label. On Ninja Tune, he could continue to produce his kind of music without either selling himself out or being lost in the backwaters of tiny labels still making lovely mushroom music. It may not have worked out as intended though, as Morris’ music was too psychedelic for even the open-minded Ninja Tune faithful, whom prefer their reefer above all else. The album It’s Tomorrow Already was the last produced with the Irresistible Force alias, and Morris has scarcely been heard from since. Does this mean the material on that release was bad? Oh hell no. As is evidenced by this final single Fish Dances, the Irresistible one was in as fine of form as ever.

The two cuts produced by Morris himself - the remix of Power and an instrumental of the titular track - contain all his trademark tricks in abundance: dreamy melodies; trippy atmospherics; bubbly drumming; floaty vibes; and, as always, a strict adherence to loose music. This last attribute has often caused Morris to lose potential listeners; for those who enjoy structured music with definite hooks, his free-for-all approach can leave many confused despite the lovely textures heard. And, as is usually the case with such music, it can go on for tedious amounts of time with go-nowhere sections. Fortunately, these two cuts show enough restraint so you don’t tire of anything looping on you.

An eclectic assortment of producers are on hand to lend their talents in remixing tracks from the album as well. Nepalese Bliss, the other single from It’s Tomorrow Already, gets a dubby trip-hop work-over from Jimpster; his blend of jazzy vibes with Morris’ floaty melodies are a wonderful combination. Meanwhile, Frédéric Galliano treats Fish Dances to a brisk acid jazz workout on the percussion end before bringing in the original’s dreamy synths to end out on a smooth bit of chill. Positively delish’.

The remixes by Voda (on Playing Around With Sound) and Plaid makes for an interesting contrast to the rest of this single’s material. Paranoia drips from Voda’s go, with eerie, choking sound effects and skittery spoken dialogue that is rendered nearly unintelligible; all the while, grimy trip-hop rhythms clump along. But if Voda’s remix is paranoid, then Plaid’s remix is downright schizophrenic: it starts with similar eerie effects while anxious melodies flow in the background. Eventually though, it settles into an easy electro rhythm before ending off in a pleasant, light-hearted tone.

It’s a shame Morris never had a chance to continue working with Ninja Tune, as his style does bring an already strong label added depth in the blissy chill categories. However, ‘twas not to be, and the Irresistible one’s output has been scarce since (you can find fresh material online though, should you be interested). All in all, if you’ve never cared for Morris’ early material, then perhaps this single will offer you a chance to reconsider. You still have vintage Irresistible Force tracks here, but the variety and skill of the remixes adds to Fish Dances’ worthiness if you’re in the market for non-MOR chill.

Carol C - First Impressions

Topaz: 2000

Atmospheric jungle seemed like a flash-in-the-pan movement, a genre that had all the potential to sweep that scene by storm, but was overshadowed by its commercial-friendly sister-genre jazzstep. By the turn of the century, neither generated much attention from the press anymore, most interested in the emergent darkstep sound instead. Eventually jazzstep's soulful aesthetic was adopted by the liquid funk guys, while atmospheric went relatively dormant for a long while. There were a few one offs here and there, and Bukem's Good Looking Records never went away, but folks by and large considered the genre an artifact of mid-'90s partying.

A DJ mix such as this was considered dated even by the year 2000. Mind, it didn't help that Carol C opted to use many tracks from atmospheric jungle's high point, but it does beg the question why someone would bother to release such a CD at that point. In fact, why would Topaz, a label that was making its mark as a progressive trance outlet, take a dip in this genre at all? Were they so inspired by Paul Oakenfold's Global Underground: Oslo set that they had to get themselves in on some of that 'dolphin d'n'b'? Was Carol C such a big fan of that sound that, for a debut mix CD, it was atmospheric or nothing at all? Was it just the trendy thing for all start-up labels to offer at least one drum'n'bass release, even if their potential audience could care less for it?

Perhaps some of these questions can be answered in figuring out who Carol C is. First Impressions is her only DJ mix CD credited, and it appears she’s had a career of producing and singing funk and nu-soul in the group Si*Sé since then. That makes a fondness for the jazzy side of jungle a good match, but still doesn’t answer much about her skill on the decks, much less why Topaz would have tapped her of all DJs for a mix such as this. Buddies with Scott Stubbs, mayhaps?

Okay, enough questions. How’s the music then. Nothing revolutionary, but if you find yourself jonesing for just a little more jungle on an LTJ tip, you’ll be in fine hands with First Impressions. Most of the major names for atmospheric, jazzy d’n’b show up, including Omni Trio, Zed Bias, Shogun, Jonny L, plus lighter moments from Technical Itch and The Advocate. And that’s all the names on this CD. Yep, of the ten tracks used, four acts get two tracks each. No wonder the tone is consistently maintained in this mix, there’s barely any crate diggin’ to be had!

I can’t hate on First Impressions for that though, as the music’s pretty class as most mid-‘90s atmospheric jungle’s wont to be. If I’ll give this mix any credit, it’s that Carol C selected tunes outside the Good Looking Records library. On the other hand, maybe Topaz couldn’t clear the rights to those.

Miss Kitten & The Hacker - First Album (2013 Update)

Emperor Norton: 2001/2004

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

First, I was disappointed. Seeing a run of material I’d already written reviews for in my queue, there’d be little opportunity to challenge my creativity. Then, I was relieved. A good chunk of them were albums I’d already uploaded here way back, thus providing me with the excuse of proper 2013 Updates rather than a piddly pair of paragraphs. After, I sprained my left wrist at work. Typing is now an arduous chore as I muddle with a bulky brace and tender tendons. Do I slink away in defeat then, take Mother Nature’s insistence that I slow down to heart? Pah, I couldn’t slow down even if I tried. Damned Powerthirst addiction.

Anyhow, Miss Kitten & The Hacker. I concluded that original overlong review claiming First Album hadn’t dated in the four years after it’d been released. What about a dozen years though? Surely something that sounded intentionally retro has survived even a decade's worth of music (de)evolution. Nope.

Funny thing about the electroclash era is the music that emerged from that scene is forever tied to those years, especially in lieu of the fact almost all of those acts moved on or disappeared altogether. It worked back then because the style and substance was different and new, especially to a generation of electronic enthusiasts who'd missed the early'80s space synth and italo pop from which the nu-new wave groups drew influence (*cough*). As with all things retro-minded though, once the novelty wore off and nothing fresh kept it afloat, it forever dated the music to the early ‘00s. When I wrote that stupid-long review in 2005, electroclash still had a charming afterglow going for it, even if no one was making that particular strand of stripped-down electro anymore (oh, but did the sleaze ever persist; I should also mention much of the background information I wrote, while not exactly incorrect, barely does that scene’s influences and lasting effects justice). Listening to it now, however, that charm’s worn off, and all First Album has going for it is appreciation for the context from which it was sprung.

Actually, that’s only true if you take the album at face value, sniggering at all the oh-so coy irony and the like - that’s sure what I was doing for the first few tracks this time out. As First Album played through, however, I noticed a surprising level of depth to the music and deadpan lyrics. It isn’t super-deep or anything, but it’s there. Miss Kitten and Mr. Hacker created a world that’s more than just a parody of our own fascination with celebrity lifestyles and seedy culture. Rather, it’s a cutting indictment of the two, peeling back the glamour (or lack of) and revealing how empty, and thus similar, it all is. The sparse production and unemotional tone of Ms. Hervine’s voice perfectly sells the soul-crushing existence of Life On MTV, Stock Exchange, and Nurse. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Damned English courses.

Nobuo Uematsu - Final Fantasy VII: Original Soundtrack (Disc 4)

DigiCube: 1997

If Disc Three was about enjoying the world of Final Fantasy VII’s quirky tangents and mysterious corners, Disc Four says, “You’ve had your fun, we got a plot to get through now.” True, the tail-end of the last one had that too, but here there’s more urgency to the music. Makes sense, as the music covered deals with all of ShinRa’s shenanigans and the proper confrontation with ol’ Sephy. Only a few ‘generic’ tracks appear here, and seeing as how Parochial Town or Hurry Faster! were featured at earlier stages of the game, they come off more like leftovers shoved way over here due to lack of CD space on the first three.

Whatever. If you enjoyed the game mostly for its ever-evolving convoluted plot, then this disc’s for you. Thrill, as you remember every time the Weapons raided major cities in Weapon Raid. Chill, as you did during the countdown to Cid’s rocket launch, in The Coundown Begins. Marvel, when the Mako cannon is fired a second time in The Makou Cannon Is Fired. Tremble, as Meteor finally descends upon Midgar in World Crisis! (by the way, is it just me, or was that a ridiculously slow moving meteor?) Er, yeah, there’s a lot of FMV sound-tracking happening here, and aside from the wonderful ‘Aeris In The Lifestream Saves The Day’ end of World Crisis, not much stands strong outside the visual reference; though the percussion in Weapon Raid’s mint.

Quite a few one-offs appear on CD 4, in that they’re pieces that were only used for single scenes within the game. A couple are acoustic, and though Sending A Dream Into The Universe is definitely a take on Cid’s Theme, damned if I can remember where On The Other Side Of The Mountain plays.

And obviously all the ‘final’ music makes up the final stretch of the final CD. Like the final dungeon track Judgment Day (love that percussion!), pre-final boss music Jenova Absolute (like that fight, it’s rather meh), final boss music The Birth Of God (what the hell’s up with that title?), and final-FINAL boss music A One-Winged Angel. Okay, I’ve never understood why he takes on that final form, other than because Kefka in Final Fantasy VI got to have a ‘fallen-angel’ form, Sephiroth got one too. I’ll grant Final Fantasy skews towards a Renaissance-gothic style, but still. Oh well, One-Winged Angel is still an impressive bit of music, and believe me when I say it blew everyone’s mind when that battle and score went down way back in ye’ olde 1997. Latin choir for the final win!

Funny thing about listening to Final Fantasy VII’s music again, is how much some aspects of the game are still ingrained in my brain. I can’t go through any of the battle music without hearing the sound effects associated with them, and all those high and low emotions (shad’ap) during certain cues come flooding back. Sure does make me want to dust the ol’ game off again.

Nobuo Uematsu - Final Fantasy VII: Original Soundtrack (Disc 3)

DigiCube: 1997

Let’s talk sound for a moment. Though it was a marked improvement over the previous generation of consoles, the 32-bit era still took a while to fully capitalize on its potential in sonics. Final Fantasy VII’s initially was intended for the Nintendo 64, and thus was likely the reason Uematsu composed the soundtrack using MIDI; or maybe he was just comfortable with it still. Whatever the case, the inboard Playstation soundcard, though a capable piece of technology, was limited in what it could reproduce, hence the poor emulation of brass instruments.

What the game’s music lacks in trumpet fanfare, however, it more than makes up percussion. Plenty of proper drums and tribal rhythms are scattered throughout the four discs, but a great showcase of them show up on CD 3. Cosmo Canyon and Great Warrior in particular are a joy to, erm, enjoy, borrowing elements of Native American music - makes sense, since the Red XIII character’s homeland seems inspired by the culture. Even better is the triumphant march of Cid’s Theme, the gentle beat of Lifestream, the pulsing throb of The Great Northern Cave, and the heartbeat of Those Chosen By The Planet (though I must add those high-note ‘choir’ tones are hilariously wack).

It’s when ol’ Nobuo steps out of traditional arrangements and uses purely synthesized sounds where the music on Disc Three turns fascinating. The opening refrain of You Can Hear The Cry Of The Planet always sends chills down my spine, and not just because it’s the music played in the location where Aeris meets her demise (what spoiler?). Elsewhere, upbeat silliness of Racing Chocobos - Place Your Bets could work as its own electro track, though I’m sure anyone who’s spent countless hours chocobo breeding in this game has grown utterly sick of it and the hoe-down Fiddle de Chocobo (I only bothered as far as a black one myself).

And acoustics! Goodness, but are the string instruments ever class. The theme of the other fangirl-favorite tortured soul Vincent has a suitably sad melody strummed, Buried In The Snow makes use of short violin strums and plucks, and Forested Temple works Uematsu’s other ace-in-the-hole of percussion - bells - with a guitar arpeggio. And okay, the fiddle work is pretty good too in Fiddle de Chocobo - I can admit that now since I haven’t played the game in a long time, and thus don’t have it currently ingrained in my brain.

From a personal standpoint, I enjoy the variety of music on Disc Three the most. Much of it is introduced when Final Fantasy VII’s world truly opens up with side quests and mini-games, a welcome element for those who prefer their RPGs as an immersive experience rather than a point-by-point plot progression. Plus it includes a couple of the most memorable themes between Sephiroth’s and Aeris’. Even the FMV bits like Steal The Tiny Bronco! and Interrupted By Fireworks are enjoyable, which is more than I can say for the next disc.

Nobou Uematsu - Final Fantasy VII: Original Soundtrack (Disc 2)

DigiCube: 1997

Final Fantasy VII was a pretty big fucking deal when it came out, and like most fans of jRPGs of the time, I too fell sway with the epic gameplay, cinematic scope, and cutting-edge polygon Lego-models. And the music! Hoo boy, did it ever suck me in. Though I’d rate Final Fantasy VI’s overall score of better quality, this game’s was so much more diverse than anything I’d heard from RPGs before. Why, I could even listen to it on its own, separate from the game. If only there was some way I could- Whoa, they actually have such soundtracks in Japan? Damn, I gotta get me a copy! Who cares how much it costs, this music’s too good to pass up.

This was the first VGM CD I ever bought (re: father purchased for me since he was the one with the credit card). It's also the last, though I've picked up Symphonic Suites or tie-ins on occasion. The reason, as always, boils down to funds, those darn pan-Pacific duties incredibly brutal. Plus, I never was that big of a gamer to splurge on their OSTs, especially now as I've grown older and find less time for them. No, if I'm laying down some serious cash for music that sounds inescapably flat and plays out as short double-loops, it'd better be something special.

Final Fantasy VII definitely has its share memorable pieces, but as with many games, it has its forgettable fluff too. Coincidentally, most of it shows up on Disc Two, which deals with most of the music featured through the Golden Saucer segment. There’s the game over music, the sleep-at-inn music, and even Waltz de Chocobo, the brief music played before you get your first Summon materia (I think; been a while since I played). Also, two main chocobo themes appear here, the surf rock Electric de Chocobo, and a jazzy-shuffle Cinco de Chocobo - oh boy, dos chocobobobos.

CD 2 is also all over the place in tone. As the game finally emerges from the choking industrialism of Midgar, Mr. Uematsu gets his opportunity to work in many different themes. You have pleasant acoustic pieces with Ahead On Our Way, Farm Boy, and Costa del Sol, somber pieces like Mining Town and Sandy Badlands, and corny marches like Rufus’ Welcoming Cermony and It’s Difficult To blah blah blah. Oh, and the overworld theme’s the first track too, given an incredibly generic title of FF VII Main Theme. Geez, couldn’t come up with something better than that?

For yours truly, much of Disco Two is skipable, but it also has some of my favorite pieces. J-E-N-O-V-A’s brisk, trancey hook is awesome, and Gold Saucer is a right hoot; criminal that both these cuts are so short, but the utterly dull Trail Of Blood lasts twice as long. Also, Cait Sith’s Theme’s here, and as he’s my favorite ‘guilty pleasure’ character of the game, I totally vibe on this cool shuckster-jive. No shame.

Nobuo Uematsu - Final Fantasy VII: Original Soundtrack (Disc 1)

DigiCube: 1997

Final Fantasy VII is the seventh instalment of the Final Fantasy franchise, a very important series in the world of gaming. It has the distinction of turning RPG gaming into something cool and enjoyed by all. Who cares if it bore scant resemblance to Western RPGs like Ultima or Might & Magic? Those were for losers, man. Greasy barbarian nonsense, right? Let's get steam-punk on the genre! Still, the game's impact is unimportant here, as I'm not a gaming blog. Want more details, seek out the endless articles, websites, fan pages, hate pages, and slash pages (er, maybe not) out there. I'm focusing on the music from the game, and that's about it.

Yep, if you thought I wandered off the conventional 'EDM review' path before with rock and the like, you ain't seen anything yet. To be fair, video game music is its own form of electronic-based music, what with chiptunes a thriving aspect of its lineage. As storage capabilities grew ever larger, however, the need to rely on in-board soundcards turned pointless when complete orchestral scores could be stored on discs. Even in the 32-bit era, you'd have individual licensed songs as the backdrop to your WipEout or Tony Hawk sessions.

Much like the graphics of the game, Final Fantasy VII marks a transition from old, antiquated soundtracks of yore. Uematsu definitely has more sound banks to work with compared to the 8 and 16-bit era, but much of the music has a shrill, tinny tone to it. He wants melodic woodwinds and brass fanfare, but all we get are hilarious squawking sounds that instantly date this to Playstation gaming. Still, ol’ Nobuo proved capable of squeezing every last ounce of musical potential from video games, and with Final Fantasy VII primed to break all sorts of new ground, he wasn’t about to flub on this challenge. In the end, four CDs worth of music emerged from his efforts.

The first disc almost exclusively features music introduced during the Midgar portion of the game (though several pieces were re-used for other sections). Compared to Final Fantasys past, the setting skews more modern, with industrial clank (Makou Reactor and Shinra Company) and slummy urban flavor (Oppressed People works a reggae jam; Turk’s Theme oozes city cool; that bassline in Underneath The Rotting Pizza!) providing a fitting tone. Plus, Mr. Uematsu gets to enjoy his rock indulgences further on tracks like Crazy Motorcycle, Fighting, and Still More Fighting (mind, Final Fantasy’s battle music’s always been rock-heavy). Unfortunately, while Cloud’s unofficial theme of Anxious Heart is a memorable somber dirge broken up with lovely bells, the other character themes on Disc One aren’t terribly memorable; in the renditions we hear on this disc, anyway.

But to talk about those, I must break this review up. As each CD averages twenty tracks, I may as well spotlight each one going forward. Eh, you figure there isn’t enough material to stretch this out? Pft, it’s Final F’n Fantasy VII. What isn’t there to talk about?

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.