Speedy J - Loudboxer

NovaMute: 2002

I honestly haven’t a clue who was responsible for it. Bolland? Bones? Mills? It was Hawtin, wasn’t it. Every trend in techno always leads back to Hawtin somehow, dictating how the genre at large “should” be done when things were perfectly fine before. Well, whoever started this particular trend, it matters little. By the turn of the millennium, bangin’ techno was all the rage, indeed the default sound everyone associated the genre at the time. Not that I blame folks for getting in on that action: delicious percolating drum kits rolling out at upwards of 140bpm, dark atmospheres tricking your head into believing them looped rhythms were saying actual words, and all that. So much energy, so much awesome, a welcome road to roam when all you want is to submit to the machine beat until 8am. Oh dear, I’m losing my humanity, get me out of this warehouse! Ahem...

By 2002, the sound was in full swing, names like Adam Beyer and Chris Liebing kings of this sort of bangin’, loop techno. In a surprising move for a guy with an already eclectic career, one Jochem George Paap, more commonly known as Speedy J (a very important person in the world of techno), jumped on it too. Keep in mind most of his ‘90s output found him further exploring Detroit’s approach to techno (the one true approach), or indulging in IDM experiments (another true approach). This here Loudboxer is quite far from either, stripping things down to tribal basics, and never relenting until the final track sings.

An LP of two-halves, the first is the warm-up. Opener Reenter is almost dub techno, the following tracks maintaining that spacious sound, especially so in Freq. There’s little fancy here, each successive track adding another layer of rhythmic intensity, drums, snares, hi-hats and whatever else you may have at the forefront of everything. Honestly, detailing specific tracks is almost pointless, each little more than tools in service of the set. Yep, we’re in Decks, EFX & 909 territory here (I told you everything comes back to Hawtin), though in this case at least Mr. Paap creates his own loops rather than ‘recontextualizes’ existing material. For proof, check out the vinyl release of Loudboxer, two-hundred (!!) loops of techno bedlam for all your DJing needs.

There’s a brief interlude titled Inter Zil, then we’re off to the races, ol’ Jochem showing little restraint as pounding kicks and choking machinery relentlessly pummel you. In a cheeky yet brilliant moment, a live recording of Krikc erupts from the white-noise build of Bugmod. It’s an effective way of sucking the listener into believing they’re hearing Loudboxer out in a proper setting, cheering with the crowd, despite all other stimuli proving otherwise. Even in the waning moments of final track Pannik, where things go quiet until the drumbeat is little more than a heartthrob, you long to be in a warehouse or club for this music. Still, a CD’s worth will suffice …for now.

Spicelab - Lost In Spice

Planet Earth Recordings: 1993/1994

Of all Oliver Lieb’s albums, I have to say his debut Spicelab LP, Lost In Spice, must be his oddest. Not for its raw production or lack of typical Lieb trance, but for how boshing basic some of the rhythms are. No matter what genre he’s explored, Lieb’s craftsmanship with drums kits and basslines always kept him a step above his peers. Here though, you get near-gabber beats in Cold Chillin’, coming at you a blistering 160bpm. It’s more of a hard acid techno track, the sort of sound you might have heard Spiral Tribe kicking out around the same time. Yet hearing it must be like what Tiësto fans feel when hearing Da Joker.

Even more baffling is making it nearly seventeen minutes long. What’s he trying to do, create the progressive rock version of hard acid techno? I suppose Cold Chillin’ has enough neat sounds going for it to just make it worth the duration – sci-fi zaps, snarling TB-303 basslines, peppy synth hooks, percussion and cymbals that crescendo as industrial blocks clank in the background. It just seems overkill for a track of this nature. All well, ol’ Oliver always claimed his Spicelab material was intended for more experimental stuff, and if he wanted to open this album with ‘experimental hard acid bosh’, so be it.

The other tracks on here are closer in tune to the early Spicelab sound, with many distinctive traits that defined many Lieb productions (spacey synth pads, those claps…). Second cut Spicelab is a slow builder, working an eerie mood befitting of such a dark cover while even more bleeps n’ bloops come and go. There are more instances of hooks found, though no real melody until a rapturous breakdown some two-thirds through, where the rhythm essentially leaves for the rest of the track for more sci-fi soundscapes. It’s like you’ve been cruising through underground industrial tunnels, only to surface into a b-movie or ‘80s anime alien world. Have I mentioned the sounds Lieb uses are dated in a quirky retro way?

The B-side of this CD is similar, in that The Last Supernova is another 160bpm blistering cut with weird sound effects, though with more reliance on tinnier percussion and those sweeping synths also found in Spicelab classics like Amorph and Spice Is A Fulltime Occupation. The titular cut at the end is more like the eponymous cut, in that there’s more build, proper hooks and melody, plus distinct sections that evolve from what came before (almost an extended version of Quicksand, really). Also included with the American version is The Spirit Of Fear, a darker take on the same formula.

Lost In Space is undeniably rough around the edges, especially compared to Lieb’s future Spicelab and L.S.G. songwriting. For an early ‘90s techno LP though, it’s damn ambitious, and definitely a positive sign that ol’ Oliver would have himself a remarkable career in the following two decades. Not bad for a German making New Beat but two years prior.

Doc Scott - Lost In Drum N' Bass

DMC Publishing Ltd.: 1996/1998

Amazingly, you can DJ various sub-genres of drum n’ bass in a given set. It’s rare, as most jungle micro-scenes prefer sticking to their chosen sound through and through. Occasionally though, a set offers a broader range of what one might find in the wide sonic world of 'deebee'; even rarer, one that showcases damn near everything.

Right, compared to the branches that scene splintered into at the turn of the millennium, there wasn’t much ‘everything’ in jungle by the mid-‘90s. I maintain it’s mighty impressive of early ‘ardcore veteran Doc Scott to pull together what was out there on Lost In Drum N’ Bass. Originally titled Breakbeat Experiments and released as part of Mixmag’s tape order-in promotional series Mixmag Live!, it found a re-issue in CD form shortly after. This wasn’t surprising, as Mixmag Live! did this for several tapes. Finding proper American distribution, however, hardly occurred, and when they did, it was primarily due to an American name on the cover (Moby, Hawtin, Derrick Carter, etc). Guess Moonshine, who oversaw DMC’s promotion here, figured those were the only selling names in our market. Oh ye’ of little faith, Moonshine.

By 1996, and the darkside of jungle old began waning, the stripped-down sound of tech-step the new hotness. Meanwhile, atmospheric jungle and jazzstep were gaining critical plaudits, but clearly miles away in tone and approach from the aggressive basslines of Technical Itch Studios. Not so, says Doc Scott, bringing the polar opposites of the drum ‘n’ bass scene together in fine fashion.

After opening with the jazzy atmospherics of Jonny L and Krust, we’re treated to the smooth-as-silk Lemon D. Remix of Art Of Noise’s Eye Of The Needle. Yes, that Art Of Noise, odd-ball ‘80s synth-poppers galore. Apparently there was a drum ‘n’ bass remix album of the band’s material released that year, which just goes to show how much the scene was making waves in the UK.

After all that pleasantness, Mr. McIlroy (!) brings out the harder stuff, including Dillinja’s bassbin demolishing Threshold (how many times have I said that about Dillinja?) and Adam F’s Metropolis, it no slouch in offering the rough business. A bit more of the dark stuff follows with Scott’s own Shadow Boxing (as Nasty Habits), then we’re back to jazzy, atmospheric d’n’b again. Yep, instead of continually piling on the aggressive sounds, Doc instead opts for a long ease out. How long? The first track of the final stretch is Krust’s Brief Encounter (12 Minutes), and there’s still four more tracks after that of similar ilk, Decoder’s jump-up Circuit Breaker the only surprising detour among Omni Trio and Jonny L (again).

I won’t deny being disappointed in Lost In Drum N’ Bass when I first heard it, but that’s because I was young, dumb, and only interested in the dark and hard (...wait). Of course, I appreciate Doc Scott’s offering far more now, for its uniqueness as a d’n’b mix CD along as a strong collection of tunes of the era.

The Bug - London Zoo (Original TC Review)

Ninja Tune: 2008

(2014 Update:
Oh dear, is poor, poor 2008 Sykonee ever unaware of what else was happening in dubstep, outside the MetaCritic narrative anyway. Little did I know it would be tracks by Rusko, Coki, and Benga, seemingly novelty wub-wub cuts, that would dominate dubstep's future. Fortunately, acts like Burial, Martyn, and even The Bug were retroactively reclassified as other branches of UK garage, thus properly being distanced by fans and commentators from all the bro-drop nonsense to follow. Guess that dates this review a little, in that it was still that transitional phase where lines were being drawn, but had I been following dubstep's development from the beginning, I'd have known of these differences already. Yeah, well, it took most American-side folks even longer than it did your's truly to figure it out, and I was just beginning to give it a chance in 2008. No blame.

Kevin Martin hasn't been terribly busy on the production front since releasing London Zoo, a smattering of singles all to his name. Following up such a critically hailed album must hold some pressure on the long-time UK dancehall tastemaker, but if he continues down the acid road as he explored with last year's Hardcore Lover, here's hoping another ace LP is in the works.)


IN BRIEF: Delightfully deviant dancehall.

A year ago, a then anonymous Burial helped propel a then anonymous young genre called dubstep into wide recognition. His sophomore effort, Untrue, was not only hailed as a classic by those within its scene, but by nearly everyone who came within earshot of it as well. And something that I’m sure no one could have ever predicted, it sits atop the best albums of 2007 at Metacritic (interestingly, sharing the spot with The Field’s From Here We Go Sublime; who said electronic music was dead?). Surely though, that was just a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence. After all, dubstep itself is far too urban, simplistic, and London-based to have any real impact beyond its core fans of jungle refugees, spliff-heads, and inner-city stylists, right?

For a good part of 2008, it appeared such a claim would hold true; very few dubstep producers that suddenly came out of the woodworks seemed capable of matching Burial’s impact. Then practically out of nowhere, longtime reggae and dancehall tastemaker Kevin Martin (The Bug) released his third album to much critical acclaim, such that, as of this writing, it currently sits atop Metacritic’s best albums of 2008. Considering it shares the honor with a retrospective from influential cut-n-paste hip-hop producer Steinski, that’s an impressive feat - an album of fresh material standing toe-to-toe with a double-disc of back-catalogue. With less than two months left in the year, it looks as though dubstep is set to be riding a critical high into the New Year once again.

Is it warranted though? Sure, the music is undoubtedly the freshest to emerge in some time but could all the critical praise for it be nothing more than a “nu-genre” honeymoon? After all, isn’t dubstep just a bunch of half-step beats, gratuitous dub reverb, displaced jungle basslines, and crackly white-noise fluff? Nay, mon - The Bug proves there’s a great deal one can do with the sound.

Truth be told, London Zoo isn’t a strict dubstep album; rather, Martin’s roots in, er, roots is the dominate focus, with the rich history of Jamaican-influenced music bursting through every pocket. Yeah, yeah… what’s with Britain co-opting their former colony’s culture for their own use, you quibble. [TranceCritic]’s been over this one plenty enough, so let’s not get into it; just accept that there are Jamaican transplants in the UK, such that themes of Jah and fights against oppression sounds just as pertinent here as on any Marley or Perry record.

Besides, with Martin’s skill behind the knobs injecting dubstep’s futuristic aesthetic into the works, classic dancehall jams are re-invigorated for the modern era with brilliant results. Even if you’ve never fancied the sound, the wobbly, punctual rhythms and grimey atmospherics will grab your attention right out of the gate and hold it until the final obligatory ‘repent, for Judgement Day is nigh’ finale. And that bass. Good God (Jah?), that bass! Every track’s bassline is totally unique from the other, easily putting to rest any qualms that “this stuff all sounds the same”. Sometimes it’s a low rumble but other times, like in Fuckaz and Skeng, it roars like some kind of Imperial Star Destroyer engine, with drops that’ll ensnare even the most conservative folk; the dancers that literally wobble to this stuff undoubtedly do so because these low frequencies liquefy bones, turning dancehall punters into masses of jelly.

Of course, no dancehall album is complete without some toasting on the mic, and The Bug has rounded up quite the cast of MCs to complement his tracks. Old standbys like Tippa Irie, Aya, and Ricky Ranking are in as fine of form as ever, but it’s members of the newer cast of dancehall toasters that steal the show. Aggressive chants from Flowdan and Warrior Queen, ominous spoken-word from Killa P, wobbly spitting from Spaceape, and cool crooning from Roger Robinson all combine to make London Zoo as much a showcase for all their individual talents as it is an outlet for Martin’s productions. There’s a sense of urgency in all their voices, as though they realize this is their biggest opportunity to let the world know just how vigorous dancehall MCing can be. They don’t disappoint in this regard.

In case it isn’t clear by now, London Zoo is certainly deserving of the critical praise that’s been handed to it. Even if you’ve never heard of The Bug (a large number of you, I reckon) and these Jamaican influenced sounds have only brought confused glances to your face (a lesser amount of you, I hope), this album should still find its way into your collection. It’s musically fresh, wonderfully paced (strong openers, classy middle, rousing climax), and proves dubstep – in all its forms - remains a genre to keep an ear open for.

Loreena McKennitt - Live In Paris And Toronto

Quinlan Road: 1999

When I lived in the hinterlands of Canada, I rented in a house with various other roomers who'd come and go. As I was the one with a decent stereo, my gear took up residence in the living room, where I'd often load the 3-CD tray with my own music. Fair enough, as my housemates shared similar tastes, what with being 'Rupert Ravers' and all. Every so often though, I'd play a combination of albums that threw them for a loop. One such day included a run of some EDM (I forget which now), the Hieroglyphics LP 3rd Eye Blind (“homie-b” music, the girl living with us called it), followed by this particular album from ethereal Celtic-folk artist Loreena McKennitt. They remarked how little sense it made for me to have such bizarre range of interest (for a 20 year old, anyway), and while hip-hop still had some connection to EDM, how did Loreena fit the puzzle of my interests?

It was likely my mother's influence, who was into Enya and all that New Age stuff when it broke into the early ‘90s mainstream (yeah yeah, total cliché there). Enigma was also a part of her musical rotation of the time, which led to ambient and world beat I still enjoy, but another act she liked was Loreena McKennitt. I... didn't quite latch onto her the same way, though my sister did. Hm, guess that makes sense, Enigma's 'tough' beats appealing to male sensibilities (no, stay with me on this theory!), and Ms. McKennitt's harps and singing more of a chick’s thing. What gender stereotypes?

Okay, sorry for that lengthy, anecdotal introduction. I felt it necessary to explain why, on a blog called Electronic Music Critic, there's also a live Loreena McKennitt album here. I've strayed off the EDM path often, but this must be the furthest I’ve gone yet. I don’t think there are any other ethereal Celtic folk-pop records in my collection, so at least it’s a one-off.

For those unaware of McKennitt, she gained international fame mostly through association with the New Age market. While her music is definitely of an Irish and Celtic tradition, she imbued her music with mystical qualities that set herself apart from staunch traditionalists, an incredibly appealing attribute for ladies into fantasy works and that; the guys had their Viking metal, the girls got their Arthurian romanticism (was this all Excaliber’s fault?). While having a deal with Warner Music gave McKennitt greater exposure (especially here in Canada, where the Winnipeg native enjoyed plenty of Canadian Content rotation), she’s remained an independent artist, self-producing and publishing her music through her own Quinlan Road print. Proper underground t’ings, mon! (whoops, wrong sub-culture)

There’s plenty more to her story, but I’m not the best person to detail it. Maybe try Ethereal Celtic Music Critic. All you need to know from my end is I liked her music enough to get a live album of it (essentially a greatest hits package), and that’s about it.

Neil Young - Live At Massey Hall 1971

Reprise Records: 2007

The idea of resurrecting old live gigs was definitely tantalizing to Neil Young fans, given the rumours of how much mint material remained untapped and unheard by public ears in decades. Yet while the first release of this series, Live At The Fillmore East, was cool for what it was, it still felt slight, barely a cursory glance of those particular shows. While I doubt folks would be disappointed if the Performance Series carried on that way, some had to wonder if the format could be improved upon.

Whether by coincidence or design, they got their answer in the second volume, Live At Massey Hall. This show was deemed so good by Young’s long-time producer David Briggs that he pleaded it be released rather than Harvest. Young decided against it, but considering how popular that album went on to be, the Massey Hall recordings must have been incredible. Yeah, it is, though in an unexpected way.

Despite having an established career playing acoustic rock and folk, there’d only been sporadic official live album of this side of Young, and even then with backing musicians. This was the first full concert album of Neil playing just by himself, nothing more than an acoustic guitar and a piano in his arsenal – not even a harmonica shows up!

Such a stripped back performance works well enough for small, intimate venues like coffee houses and cellars, which Young had toured in for some time when he first went solo. By 1971, however, he’d become quite the star, and small, intimate venues were a thing of his past. Yet here he is in Massey Hall playing his music for a large, at times rowdy audience, and treating it as though it was for a group of fifty.

Therein lies Live At Massey Hall’s magic. There’s a real sense of stage isolation while listening to this, Young retreating into his own space as he sings. At times, when he belts out the high notes of Old Man and Down By The River, his voice echoes across the hall, further adding to that sense of remoteness. You can easily picture him surrounded by darkness up there, a single spotlight glowing from above keeping him from disappearing altogether. Despondent songs like Bad Fog Of Loneliness, Tell Me Why, A Man Needs A Maid, and even Cowgirl In The Sand completes the picture, even without the DVD aid of concert footage.

And yet, this all creates a stronger connection to him as a performer, where he’s allowing us into his private domain. It helps that he has a very respectful audience (mostly hippies his age, apparently), enthusiastic between songs, and remarkably quiet when Young sings. Maybe it was unfamiliarity with the music he debuted at this concert (“Heart Of Gold? Never heard of it.”), or maybe it was the Toronto crowd welcoming back a native son. Whichever the case, Live At Massey Hall was an early highlight of the Performance Series, one that’s yet to be repeated.

Electronic Music Critic, now with Amazon Links & Clips!

I never intended for this. When I started blogging again, it was as a lark, something to keep the writing juices going while focusing on work, college, and other assorted pet projects. Little did I know that, not only would I find that groove again, but hold onto it for as long as I have, with no real sign of losing it either. And while the readership I've generated since hasn't been a runaway internet smash or anything, it's grown to the point where I'm getting requests for actual audio clips.

I neglected it at first because it felt like more committed time to scouring for such clips than was worth investing for a side-hobby. Most blogs rely on YouTube links, and as those can be taken down at any point, you're constantly having to maintain them, lest you end up with a series of broken ones over time. And hosting the music myself was out of the question, the legal hassel involved so not worth it, which left me with legitimate sources.

Well, I did have an Amazon account when I started EMC, one I hardly gave much thought because, back then, there weren't many MP3 options to share clips with. Lo and behold though, times have changed, and Amazon's MP3 store has grown significantly, such that not including available audio to all this music I'm reviewing is utterly foolhardy. True, they're crummy thirty-second clips, often not even playing the best portions of said tracks, but it's something. As for why I don't also get Beatport and iTunes accounts, I'm an Amazon slut through and through; plus, you can get actual hard-copies at Amazon! I'm not looking to make big money off including Amazon links - Hell, I'm not even expecting to make a pittance. If I'm praising something as 'must own', however, I should at least give you the option of nabbing a copy for yourself.

So here's what you can expect going forward:

AMAZON BUTTON: Underneath each 'ACE TRACK' list, this button will, if available, lead you to the release's Amazon page. If a hard-copy option isn't available, it will take you to an MP3 option instead. If there is no Amazon Button, chances are it's a free net-album (eg: Ectoplazm downloads).

MP3 PLAYER: Underneath the Amazon Button will be an MP3 playlist of the release, which will include most, if not all, the tracks contained on the release. If there's no Player, chances are the album doesn't exist in an official MP3 form at Amazon (common with many older CDs). I'll make franken-Lists for the Burned CDs I review, but cobbling together a Playlist of scattered tracks that appear on regular CDs is more time than I'm willing to invest right now. Maybe down the road, if there's enough requests for it.

ACE TRACK PLAYLIST: In the sidebar, there's now a permanent Playlist that contains clips of anything I've given ACE TRACK status, provided Amazon has it available as an MP3. Now you can hear what I've sung the praises of! As I'm always listening to something new, this list will be constantly updated with each new review.

And that's about it. I spent nearly 20 hours straight this past day adding Amazon links and widgets to everything I could since Model 500's Classics. That's 300+ reviews! Holy cow, I must have been insane doing that. Wish I'd just have included these options from the start, but I sure didn't think I'd have written this much in 15 months. Dunno if the effort will be worth it, but if folks now have a reason to check back some of those older reviews, I say it has.

*2015 UPDATE*:
Turns out Amazon don't like it when you aren't generating enough revenue, promptly cancelling my Associate's Account. Oh well

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Live At The Fillmore East

Reprise Records: 2006

Yeah, another Neil Young album. Get used to this, as we’re a long way from covering everything I've collected from the guy, to say nothing of that massive Archives box-set down the road. He's also a rocker who does utilize the word “Live” in the titles for his live albums a fair bit; fortunately, there's only a pair of them to deal with in the now, the first of which was the first to be released of the ongoing Performance Series project.

Apparently ol' Neil had a habit of recording damn near anything he had a chance to, including several gigs that might have a preferred rendition of new songs destined for future albums. For instance, The Needle And The Damage done, as appeared on Harvest (and thus every classic rock station ever), was from his performance on the Johnny Cash Show. More famously, he released Rust Never Sleeps as all live recordings from the tour he debuted those songs. Really, many songs from Rusty saw concert duty before showing up in LP form, sometimes years later at that.

And yep, we got some such tunes on this tidy six-tracker from Neil and his Crazy Horse band’s two-day Fillmore East gig in 1970. Wonderin’, sounding like a b-side to Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, didn’t appear on a proper Young album until 19-f’n-83, and in a “fuck you, Geffen” rockabilly album at that! There’s also Winterlong, which didn’t properly show up until the decade-spanning Young compilation titled Decade. Finally, Come On Baby Let’s Go Downtown, a Danny Whitten penned piece of blues-rock that appeared on Tonight’s The Night (though also on the first Crazy Horse album shortly after this gig – yes, the band released music on their own too, though little as memorable as what they did with Neil Young).

Hearing some authentic Danny Whitten era live Horse was a big selling point in issuing Live At The Fillmore East. Aside from the few studio recordings, about all that we whippersnappers had to go by his brilliance was hearsay and shitty bootlegs of concerts. I mean, sure, Cowgirl In The Sand and Down By The River were pretty darn cool tunes on the first Young Plus Horse album, but no better than anything else we’d hear from later efforts when Frank Sampedro replaced him.

Well shit, son, here’s a proper education in these matters, twelve minutes of River and a whopping fifteen minutes of Cowgirl, and not a wasted second in either. Damn it, I’m playing this version of Cowgirl in the background as I type this, and believe you me I want to stop and just listen to these musicians jam away. The Youngful Horses had some time to perfect their roles since the first ragged recording sessions – still can barely carry a vocal harmony, though.

Despite only being a smattering of their Live At Fillmore East runs, this remains a tasty treat for folks fully bitten by the Rusty Psycho Equus. Just might convince a few doubters too.

Banco de Gaia - Live At Glastonbury

Mammoth Records: 1996

Much better. Much, much better! Maybe it's the Glastonbury vibe capturing these acts at their best; they sure were the strongest recordings from The Orb's live compilation (hard to call Live 93 a proper album). So if you're a young EDM chap thinking of releasing a live album, better make it a gig from the famous British festival.

Truth be told, I was incredibly hesitant to pick this up at first glance. It’d only been a few months since I’d bought Banco de Gaia’s first two CDs, thus I was still in that ‘eh, not as good as I hoped’ mindset regarding Last Train To Lhasa. Now here’s another CD containing most of Lhasa, plus Mafich Arabi and Heliopolis, another pair of tunes I was lukewarm over as heard on Maya (I was dead-set on believing Toby Marks produced worldly ambient dub and nothing but). Still, what’s that last track, Data Inadequate? Never heard that one on either album, nor was it on the Ambient Dub series. Is it a new song? Nah, probably some live dialog; maybe a corny joke that the show’s over, therefore has inadequate data to carry on. Yeah, that’s it.

Anyhow, I bought Live At Glastonbury regardless, because that’s what you do when you find a new musical love. And sure enough, once the CD played through, my hesitations over its merits quickly dissipated. The crowd’s properly present, their cheers never overwhelming the music while placing you among the mass. A few technical hiccups with the opener Last Train To Lhasa aside, the sound’s clear and full, with enough open air resonance giving the tracks fresh vitality. Mafich Arabi’s funky drum work is essentially unchanged from its album counterpart, but is far more vibrant and energetic with all that extra, delicious bass reverberating off open spaces.

Even better, some of these tunes have been reworked to serve the party environment of Glastonbury. Marks adds layers of cacophonous rhythms and acid squelches to the start of White Paint, turning a formerly sombre piece of music into a raucous build. 887 gets double-timed beats along with funky “whoop whoop” drops, and Kincajou... is actually rather mellow, despite a pumping rhythm kicking throughout. Heh, not like I’d expect another half-hour ambient excursion of the tune at Glastonbury; The Orb, sure.

As for that final cut, Data Inadequate, hot damn, where did this come from? Right, Marks’ first tape-only album Medium, and the old-school vibes are clear as day, all sci-fi space opera synths and chugging UK acid house beats. Its light years away from the typical Banco world beat sound, and a wonderful way to cap off an already fun CD.

Live At Glastonbury may only hold interest for fans of Toby Marks’ project, but for my money (and maybe yours!), it’s also an excellent example of how to do a live album right. Great sound recording, unique variations of tracks, and even a few surprises thrown in: what more could you ask for?

The Orb - Live 93

Island Records: 1993

Here we go – live albums. You just know I got a lot of ‘em. Ah, some, but surprisingly few with titles that start with the word “Live”. Shame, as I could have done a themed week around these. Oh well, let’s get this show on the road, listening to musical acts taking their shows on the road.

First up is The Orb. Say, this is finally the first CD of Dr. Paterson’s project I get to talk about too. Bloody shame it’s this one. The idea behind it is fine, as The Orb had developed quite the reputation early on as a trippy experience live, perfectly befitting of those chill-out rooms of the growing rave scene. I’m sure plenty of wonderful, primitive CGI floated across projector screens and the like. Even without the visual accompaniment, I can conjure nifty things while lying back with my headphones. Ooh, shiny globs!

But nay, it’s bloody hard to get into Live 93, on account this isn’t a single live performance; rather, a compilation of various gigs throughout that year, all arranged in confounding order. A Tokyo gig is followed by a Copenhagen gig is followed by a Glastonbury gig, and back to a Copenhagen gig, followed by a Live Orbient gig. Something like that anyway, and far from a proper live album experience when playing this through.

You may also realize that The Orb only had two albums out by that time, Adventure’s Beyond The Ultraworld and U.F.Orb. That isn’t much material to make up a live double-LP, even with The Orb’s typically long, noodly bits of ambience. What’s added to the live experience is just that, imagining yourself in such context, and the unique flourishes musicians may create on the fly. As The Orb make ample use of dubby echo and swishy filters, you bet you’re getting plenty of extras in these live renditions, so somewhat different from what you’d hear on the albums if you don’t mind sample-heavy dithering.

Unfortunately, I can’t ever hear ‘em without cranking my volume to near-ludicrous levels. The four Glastonbury recordings are okay, and about the only ones that stand out as worth listening to - you even get some actual crowd noise and full-aired resonance. At the other end of the spectrum are the four Copenhagen tracks, all hopelessly muffled and lacking any sort of dynamics. Perpetual Dawn should not sound this limp, ever, and enduring nearly twenty minutes of pants-sounding Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain is utterly pointless. The other ones are only marginally better than the Copenhagen cuts, and hardly worth the inclusion when coupled against the Glastonbury offerings.

I can only see two reasons why folks would have wanted this back in the day. One, it was a handy ‘hits compilation’, albeit poorly recorded. Two, a pair of then-unreleased tracks opened each CD, Plateau and Valley. Good tunes, true, but in superior form on the 1995 album Orbus Terrarum. Thus, beyond completism or curiosity, Live 93 is hopelessly redundant two decades on.