Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 4 - Topanga 2 (1969-1970)

Reprise Records: 2009

Having gotten the solo stylee out of his system, Neil Young finished off his modest first tour and high-tailed it back to Topanga. He had unfinished business with that Crazy Horse trio of Danny Whitten, Ralph Molina, and Billy Talbot he stole from The Rockets, an album with them to complete after enjoying such an invigorating first session that saw Down By The River and Cowgirl In The Sand emerge. Having spent some time properly preparing for new recordings, the songs written were far shorter, less about extended rock jams and such. The big tune off this outing was Cinnamon Girl, and if you’ve still yet to hear it after I explicitly told you to in the Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere review… Well, now you have no excuse. Ignore my recommendation once, shame on you, ignore my recommendation twice, double-shame on you!

This second recording session included a few more songs that ended up on the group’s first album, plus a handful more that would fill out Young’s second solo outing After The Goldrush. Crazy Horse were also working on their own album, which would have the fun country-stomp romp of Dance Dance Dance as a highlight even though Young often played it solo too. On Disc 4 is a ridiculously charming drunken hoe-down version – what’s even going on with those hi-hats? Love it!

While back in Topanga, his old musical comrade/nemesis Stephen Stills from the Springfield got in touch with Neil about joining his current band, Crosby, Stills & Nash, the idea they’d become an American super-rock group that could creatively rival anyone from the UK. Okay, maybe it’s just my being of a totally younger generation, but really? Neil Young’s awesome, no doubt, and Stills plus David Crosby were undeniably at the height of their musical potential in the late ‘60s, but I’ve a difficult time believing this group was anything close to The Beatles or The Who. Then again, Stills and Young did have the same creative synergy going for them that Lennon and McCartney had, so who knows, maybe they were onto something after all.

The other half of Topanga 2 (1969-1970) mostly features tunes recorded in anticipation for the first CSNY tour, including their performance of Sea Of Madness at Woodstock. Oh yeah, Young was at Woodstock, because of course he would be, though he mostly kept out of sight even when on stage. Guess he hadn’t gotten over that ‘too big an audience’ hang-up he had that led him to playing coffee houses in the first place. Dammit, he wouldn’t have this problem if he would just stop making great music, but Young never lets his creativity sit fallow for long.

Anyhow, the CSNY tunes on Topanga 2 are nice, vastly more studio polished compared to the Crazy Horse stuff. Can’t say I’m much of a fan of this super-group, at least with the songs Young initially contributed. Shortly though, he’d kick out one of their all-time classics.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 3 - Live At The Riverboat 1969

Reprise Records: 2009

There's quite the romanticism associated with Neil Young's first year of solo gigs - the 'purity' of audience connectivity in small, intimate venues, places where a musician with any sort of star-ascent is unable to perform in. 1968 and ‘69 were about the only years Young could have done such shows once he broke away from his Buffalo Springfield fame, still a relatively unknown entity beyond being the kooky guy with a ridiculously long leather tassel jacket. Even with a debut album to tour with, he could get away with the small-time vibe of coffee houses, the lack of big singles beyond his Springfield output keeping him on the fringes of folk-rock interests. Thus CDs like Sugar Mountain - Live At Canterbury House 1968 and Live At Cellar Door (recorded 1970) are wonderful bits of Shakey artefacts, the last performances where you can picture Neil sitting but a dozen feet from you, casually chit-chatting with a genteel audience playing from a very small selection of songs he'd written to that point.

Live At The Riverboat 1969 is a significant performance from Young, in that it marked his first return to Toronto after his westward exodus. In but two years later, he’d be playing Massey Hall, but at this point in his career, the tiny Riverboat coffee house was more than enough to draw in locals who remembered him from his Squires days ...haha, no, as with everyone else, they likely knew of his music through Buffalo Springfield. Half his set list features songs written those years (I Am A Child, Expecting To Fly, Broken Arrow, etc.), and most of the rest is from his self-titled debut. Its nice hearing acoustic versions of some of the over-produced tunes like Broken Arrow and The Old Laughing Lady, though not essential pieces of music for casual Rusties.

And honestly, there’s not much difference between Live At The Riverboat and Live At Canterbury House. Not that Young had a huge discography at this point for eclectic acoustic playlists, but there’s little incentive to have this recording beyond being a charming addition to Archives, Vol. 1. Okay, the audience rapport’s funny too, tales of the odd necessity for musicians to make ‘dope songs’, bizarre medical practices, a shout-out to Bruce Palmer in the audience, and a bit of fun playing five-second children’s jingles like 1956 Bubblegum Disaster (“It took me three years to write that one.”).

Ooh, spare word count - let’s talk about the DVD presentation! Live At The Riverboat’s an odd one, practically a study in minimalist film making. It features a solitary reel-to-reel atop a stool running under a low spotlight, an acoustic guitar resting beside it, a couple microphones nearby, tables with candle-lights glowing in the surrounding darkness, and scattered playlist notes on the ground. The camera angles and focus change up between songs, so it’s not one long take either. I cannot deny the setting imparts a remarkably nostalgic twinge of times past (re: reel-to-reels fascinated Toddler Sykonee).

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 2 - Topanga 1 (1968-1969)

Reprise Records: 2009

Being a part of Buffalo Springfield greatly benefited Neil Young’s development as a musician, even if he quickly turned sour to the whole experience. It gave him the chance to bounce ideas off equally creative musicians, gaining confidence in his writing and performing as large Los Angeles crowds cheered at the Springfield’s shows. That Canadian-bred humbleness hadn’t prepared him for such intense success and adulation so quickly though, and Young frequently no-showed band gigs at the height of their popularity (health problems didn’t help either). So the break-up was inevitable, but whereas his former band mates formed or joined other bands, Young retreated to the solo circuit, including a move to a super-hippie enclave outside Los Angeles called Topanga.

We’re also entering the years of ol’ Shakey’s proper album output now, which Archives borrows liberally from. The good news here is, if you’ve only been a casual collector of Young’s music and skipped out on some of his less-regarded LPs (*cough*), this’ll fill out those musical gaps nicely. If you’ve been thorough in your Young collecting though (*double-cough*), Archives at least provides a proper, spiffy-fresh re-master of his material, much of which hadn’t seen much care since their original recordings (much less a decent digital transfer).

Though Young had retreated to the casual clime of Topanga and folksy gigs, he kept busy by putting together his self-titled debut. Neil Young sounds very little like anything else in his discography, in that it’s surprisingly overproduced; or “over-dubbed”, as Young put it. The Old Laughing Lady and I’ve Loved Her So Long, for instance, features string sections and backing gospel girls along with your standard folk-band arrangements. Okay, not a drastic difference compared to some of his other works, but something’s lost in piecing together his music like that: the spontaneity and soul that defines so much of Young’s appeal. Of the tunes included on Topanga 1 (1968-1969) that were culled from Neil Young, only The Last Trip To Tulsa captures the stripped-back folk-narrative style you’d expect.

Fortunately during this time, Young had started hanging around a band name The Rockets – or as they came to be known, Crazy Horse. I’ve already detailed how that turned out in Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, from which the titular cut, Down By The River, and Cowgirl In The Sand appears on here. Hearing these following the Neil Young material, it’s astounding the difference that ‘ragged live’ energy Crazy Horse provides Young’s music. No longer tentative and deferring to producers, the music’s strident, confident, and kinetic.

Also on Topanga 1 are a couple alternate takes of other Neil Young tunes, and part of the Live At Canterbury House gig that includes Sugar Mountain and Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing. I assume these two songs are here as contrast to the demo recordings of the same songs found on Disc 0, demonstrating how far he’d come as a musician in half a decade. Yeah, he’d developed some skill. Just wait for the next five years though.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 1 - Early Years (1966-1968)

Reprise Records: 2009

So westward Neil Young went, piling into an old hearse-mobile with friend Bruce Palmer in search of better musical prospects. Oh yeah, before that, the two were briefly in a Motown band called The Mynah Birds, fronted by Rick F'n James. While nothing ever came of it, folks love pointing it out as one of the 'small world' tidbits of musical trivia. I'm only pointing it out because I'll get heck if I don't. So there it is.

Also a necessary tale-drop is how Young and Palmer found their pal Stephen Stills in Los Angeles. After crossing nearly a full continent, they had no place to stay, no money, no way of getting in touch with their contacts, and no direction. Just as they were ready to give up hope and head northward, they spotted Stills while sitting ‘still’ in a traffic jam (oh ho-ho, such a clever pun *slaps self*). Divine intervention? Not really, since the odds of such an occurrence aren’t that astronomical if hopeful musicians were known to congregate in certain neighbourhoods. Still, it is a remarkable fluke their crossing of paths did happen at all when you consider this was well long before the age of cell-phones, internet, and most other forms of communications easing our means of perpetual contact today.

Anyhow, the band Buffalo Springfield formed. If the name seems familiar, it’s likely from one of two reasons: you’ve heard their music on a classic rock radio station (probably For What It’s Worth, also known as the “everybody look what’s going down” song you always hear in ‘Nam or hippie movies), or you saw Scott Pilgrim Vs The World. For their full story, check out the Buffalo Springfield Box Set, or maybe a Rolling Stone retrospective article. Archives, Vol. 1 only focuses on the music Neil Young had a major part in writing, even if he didn’t always get to sing on his songs. I think that’s why that way-early demo version of Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing was included on the previous disc – proof that, yo, he did writes the original Buffalo single before he even joined the band.

The songs on Disc 1, Early Years (1966-1968) include such Young staples as Mr. Soul and I Am A Child, plus Bison Shelbyville classics like chipper Burned (think early Beatles), oddball experimental Americana song Broken Arrow (think late Beatles), psychedelic surf-folk jam Kahuna Sunset (think instrumental Beach Boys), and the lovely, floating ballad Expecting To Fly (think... pre-crisis Brian Wilson?). There are also a couple more solo demo outings from Young, I guess included to show his ongoing development as a musician even while as part of a band.

Despite all the promise of a brilliant future, the Buffalo experience was short lived, internal conflicts, clashing egos, and dodgy label shenanigans bringing the band to an abrupt end. Clearly, that wasn’t the end of these musicians’ stories though; otherwise I wouldn’t be reviewing a box set of Neil Young archives.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 0 - Early Years (1963-1965)

Reprise Records: 2009

It figures. No sooner do I finally start on a new letter than I get hit with a bloody box-set. So long, forward momentum. Tackling this sucker will easily eat up a week's worth of reviews. True, I could give a quick overview and be done with it, but as with The Electro Compendium from last year, it'd leave an obscene gap of content on this blog if I didn't keep some record of my progress. Fortunately, Neil Young: Archives is nicely divided up into manageable chunks, so at least things will move along in a logical fashion. Obviously, if you don't give a flookin' Canook about Neil Young, check back in around seven days – I should be back to regular(ish) electronic music again.

You’re still with me? Aww, you're awesome, really you are. Gotta know what's up with some more good ol' Shakey, does ya'? Well, if you stick around, you'll find out just about everything there is to know about the first ten years of Mr. Young's musical career. More than you'll likely care to know, if I'm honest – heck, it was more than I cared about, though it is interesting from a fan's perspective. Whether you got the CD, DVD (yo), or Blu-Ray version of Archives, Vol. 1, everything was split into chronological sections. It also includes Live At The Fillmore East and Live At Massey Hall, which I've covered already; plus his oddball movie Journey Through The Past, but I won't cover that since this isn't Musician Movie Critic. Oh, and Live At Canterbury House was apparently a bonus DVD/Blu-Ray, but since it wasn't part of the original Archives, Vol. 1 MP3 download bundle, I won't cover that either. Whoa, a breeze of wind all of a sudden rushed through my apartment, as though dozens of people breathed a sigh of release.

Okay, let’s get this thing started, by starting at the start of Young’s career – back when he was still young-Young! (eh? eh...? No, wait, come back...). Most were first introduced to ol’ Neil when he was part of the Los Angeles band Buffalo Springfield, but before heading out there, he played for an old-timey surf-rock band called The Squires. Since they were still teens, the boys mostly played high-school dances and community halls around Manitoba and Ontario, hardly the sort of exposure one could hope for breaking into the big time. They did manage one official single with a couple instrumentals called Aurora and The Sultan though. It’s, well, surf-rock. Cowabunga?

Everything else on Early Years (1963-1965) is previously unreleased material. This includes leftover Squires material that never saw the light of day, a few blues numbers he recorded with Comrie Smith, and an extended recording of a studio session featuring early takes of Sugar Mountain and Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing. These sound like hastily recorded demos likely intended to spread around Toronto or Motown. Pft, you’ll never make it there with such folksy songs, kid. Go west, my son, go west.

Dub Trees - Nature Never Did Betray The Heart That Loved Her

LSD - Liquid Sound Design: 2000

This is the sort of CD that was destined for an 'impulse buy'. Fifty bones to drop in the music shop, with so many familiar artists floating about; yet rather predictable in what you'll get on a disc. No, I'll hold off on getting another progressive trance DJ mix or deep house label compilation. I want something new and unexpected, but just familiar enough that it won't possibly be a total waste of money. There, that CD with 'Dub Trees' on the cover. I know dub music, and with a hippie-dippy title like Nature Never Did Betray The Heart That Loved Her, I've a good feeling the music will be something like Waveform Records. Hm, Youth's the main producer here. I feel like I should know that name. Oh well, Dragonfly Records usually releases psy-trance, so maybe we'll get some Planet Dog type of psychedelic dub stuff.

Yeah, we got that, and more. For a psy-dub album, Nature Never etc. etc. is remarkably diverse, Youth dipping his dubby toes deep into various forms of the genre. For his dub roots run deep, like a tree, yo' – you could even say *dons dreadlock wig* he's a Dub Tree, yeaaahh, mon! Wait, that wasn’t a pun?

Anyhow, Martin Glover had been floating about various music scenes for a while, most famously playing bass in post-punk band Killing Joke and contributing to early albums from The Orb and System 7. Along the way he got sucked into the world of goa trance, and even found time to set up a label promoting the stuff. He must have gotten right proper inspired by the emerging psy-dub sounds that were carrying on from what Dr. Alex Paterson and he had kicked off with ambient dub, taking his own stab at it with this one-off Dub Trees project. Roping in for music contributions were long-time producing partner Greg Hunter, plus Simon Posford, fresh off his first Shpongle LP. Indian world-dub fusion group Suns Of Arqa also contribute, but no Bill Laswell, because Dub Trees already gots them a bass player, mang.

With so many influences thrown into this dub soup, Nature Never yada yada yada is about as offbeat and eclectic as this music can go without stepping outside its comfort zone. There are straight-up reggae rhythms (Butterfly Trilogy), synthy interludes (Cobalt Waterfall), quirky sampling (Buffalo, La Rosa), dark meditative excursions (Orpheus), opium dens flying through space (Dreamlab), psy-dub grooves (Magnetica), and goof-ball bass drops (Concrete Tourist). All of which, natch, filtered through more dub effects than you can shake a King Tubby at.

If all this sounds like “just another trippy dub album”, you’re right, although Youth’s definitely a better song crafter than most out there, having rubbed shoulders with so many masters of the genre. This album also acts as a sort of bridge between ambient dub of the ‘90s, and psy-dub of the ‘00s, not a bad thing if you’ve endlessly debated the merits of either. Does anyone even do that?

Markus Schulz - Miami '05

Armada Music: 2005

This is it, isn’t it? The peak of this particular sub-genre of progressive trance? I already know how Markus Schulz’ story goes after this one, to say nothing of McProg as a whole. Tiësto’s In Search Of Sunrise 5 caught me off guard with how classy it treated the music – Hell, that Mr. Verwest jumped on the Schulz sound period – but there aren’t any other DJs that rinsed out the ‘classic’ Coldharbour sound who I should be checking out, right? Schulz being the King of his mountain, anyone else just can’t compare, true? Please tell me I shouldn’t also be digging into Anjunabeats circa. 2005 to find out – I feel dirty enough already retroactively enjoying McProg as I do now, and I don’t want to futilely search for more if it’s all downhill from Miami ‘05.

I mean, these two CDs have nearly everything I could hope for with these tentative explorations of the lambasted genre, and very little of the things that came to annoy me. It’s already a given we’re getting plenty of those tasty grumbly basslines and twinkly melodies I’ve developed the softest of spots for. I still can’t explain how or why it happened. Maybe it’s the lack of a constant barrage of slavering trance-crackers on web-forums championing it as the greatest music since Xpander (that tune’s practically the genre’s progenitor, come to think of it). Make no mistake, there still isn’t that much substance to this style of prog-trance, and if I re-listened to Miami ‘05 over and over as I typically did with most trance for review ten years past, almost certainly the empty shell within the shiny façade of a surface would reveal itself. Damn though, is it fun music for an occasional dip.

Miami ‘05 wouldn’t be any good if it was just one sound all the way through, and the bits of variety Schulz throws in (re: promoted singles from Coldharbour) are mostly welcome. As usual, I can bin the vocal cuts, but there are only three offenders on CD1, and even Interstate’s I Found You is given a nice rub from Lemon8. Side-chaining also makes its annoying entry here, Hammer & Bennett’s Baltic Sea being the worst offender (cool percussion though!), but like the vocal cuts, they’re few and far between, and don’t detract from the whole. Also, that Electro Hairspray track’s horribly muddy, practically a parody of the very sound Schulz is promoting on these mixes. Still, props for making it his only contribution to this mix – giving the new cats a chance to shine!

Speaking of, quite a few one-offs like Aronek, Jagermaestro, Yilmaz Altanhan, and Sundawner mix things up with usual suspects like Özgür Can, Mike Foyle, and Jose Amnesia. Should it come as any surprise these relative unknowns have the most interesting tracks here? And breaks! There’s trancey breaks on Miami ‘05! Good trancey breaks! Oh, Schulz, you’re spoiling me here. Can I go back in time and join your Cult? Well, maybe not.

Vangelis - L'Apocalypse Des Animaux

Polydor: 1973/1991

Speaking of gathering music from Carl Sagan’s Cosmos, there was one frequently used composition I was disappointed never appeared on the The Music Of Cosmos 2CD set. It wasn’t a one-off like Pink Floyd’s One Of These Days either – it appeared frequently, a droning bit of gentle, background ambience most memorably used during the ‘galaxy showcase’ in The Edge Of Forever. As the series repeatedly used Vangelis’ music, I suspected it was one of the Greek composer’s pieces as well; however, nothing like it appeared on Heaven & Hell or Albedo 0.39, the two albums Cosmos primarily cribbed music from. There were no original music credits available either, so I had no clue whether I was on the right track. Did I have any hope in solving this mystery?

With luck, I recently stumbled upon a website that had listed Cosmos’ original music cue sheet for each episode. A bit of sleuthing later, and I discovered I was indeed correct in the music being of Vangelis origin. What I hadn’t counted on was it originating from Mr. Papathanassiou’s very first album!

The piece, by the way, is called Création Du Monde, which appeared in the soundtrack for a mostly forgotten French nature documentary called L’Apocalypse Des Animaux. Story goes Vangelis, while still a part of psychedelic rock act Aphrodite’s Child, had begun writing incidental music intended for licensing out for shows of such sort. Frederic Rossif, who made the film, snatched the rights to these compositions, and thus formed the officially released soundtrack to L’Apocalypse Des Animaux. Not that the details terribly matter - the brief opening ‘jungle rhythm’ track aside (subtitled Generique), this LP may as well be considered Vangelis’ first official solo album.

What’s most fascinating about this music is just how far back it dates, and the undeniable influences it imparted. Création De Monde is Eno ambient half a decade before Music For Airports: droning ebbs and flows of synths pads, occasional calming plucks of strings or bells, and ten minutes of pure, floating bliss. Minimalism was kicking around, true, but not designed with such a relaxing approach to song craft. Even more ambient is La Mer Recommencée, which adds light cymbal washes to the droning synth work, leading into a crescendo as it plays out.

Or, if you’re more familiar with Vangelis’ later score work, La Petite Fille de la Mer captures the same delicate innocence of Carly’s Song. Likewise, Le Singe Bleu is all gentle keyboards and lonesome trumpet – not quite Bladerunner Blues, but certainly just as stirring. Stephen Halpern must have been playing close attention to those keyboard tones too, sounding quite similar to his Keynote series that kicked off the whole New Age movement.

And all this lovely music was originally wasted on images of animals. My mind boggles. Yeah, I can see Création Du Monde working with the sight of birds in flight, but Sagan had the right idea. This music far deserves the grandeur and scope of the galaxies.

Tomita - Kosmos

RCA Victor: 1978/1991

Long before electronic music was almost exclusively made for the riff-raff of dance culture, electronic music was exclusively made for the hoity-toity upper elites of culture. True, only higher class brackets were capable of affording synthesizers at the time, so naturally only classically trained composers did much of anything with the gear. Shortly after the ‘70s took hold though, the commons clued into the catchy potential of electronic music too, and some charming compositions began charting in record sales. Well, if they’re enjoying these camp pieces, scoffed the elite, they’ll undoubtedly lap up the fromage of the classics too. Thus they set out a Japanese robot dubbed Tomita to placate the masses with synthesized interpretations of Stravinsky, Holst, Strauss, and Bach.

Right, the specific details above are mostly the bunk (probably), but if anyone greatly benefited from Wendy Carlos and Rick Wakeman proving you could do classical music with electronics, it was ol' Isao. By the time he released Kosmos, he'd gained a reputation as the foremost modern classical interpreter about, folks always anticipating which master of the past he'd tackle next.

Did I mention sci-fi was a big deal in the '70s? What better way to give the fans what they wanted – and maybe even lure in a few who’d yet to discover the Japanese synth maestro – than opening Kosmos with a quirky, charming cover of John Williams’ Star Wars Main Title? It’s… um, well, it’s… Star Wars? Kinda bloopy, with a whistle instead of the opening fanfare; surprising amount of bouncy rhythm for the time too. Y’know, when you think of chintzy, made-for-TV sci-fi pulp from that decade, this is the music you’re likely imagining soundtracking it. Follow-up Space Fantasy borrows from Strauss’ Also sprach Zarathustra and various Wagner compositions, most notably Ride Of The Valkyries and Tannhäuser, though whenever I hear the latter, I almost immediately think of Bugs Bunny riding an obese white horse rather than space opera. Also, Kosmos has quickly turned incredibly camp with such music.

Fortunately, things get more interesting with the following songs. The Unanswered Question from Charles Ives goes ambient, mysterious, and with a touch of mechanical menace lurking. Rodrigo’s Aranjuez-Adagio is soaring and gorgeous, especially with the synths Tomita utilizes here, and Solveig’s Song’s from Edvard Grieg’s no slouch either, Tomita cleverly playing a portion of the campy bit through a filter as though it’s a transmission from deep space.

The highlight of Kosmos is the final track though, J.S. Bach’s The Sea Named “Solaris”; heck, it was a highlight on Carl Sagan’s Cosmos too! Yes, finally, at the end of this review, I come clean about my primary reason for getting this album. Look, I was starting a Tomita collection eventually, and it may as well be the album holding the song I’m most familiar with by him. If you haven’t heard The Sea Named “Solaris” yet, get on that shit, brah! Absolutely essential modern classical! Kosmos ain’t too bad either, once you get past the corny first bits.

Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia - The Key

Terminal Antwerp: 2002

The mystique of the Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia had mostly faded from techno's consciousness as the new millennium took shape, perhaps a few digital crusties the only ones maintaining the group aloft in reverence. Back in the early '90s when the enigmatic Dutch act were making the rounds on the live PA circuit, the notion of tribal rhythms and occult lineage wasn't a hard sell for a young rave scene. Probably didn't hurt they were releasing material through Belgian EBM-slash-New Beat label KK Records, that scene already having a fondness for the counter-culture of new technology. Throw in knowing nods to ambient, industrial, and dub, and you've a sound like no other at the time, and very little since.

The Warriors Ov Gaia (Psychick, that is) had a memorable half-decade run, and folks figured their story was done by the mid-‘90s. Someone at KK Records must have been a dedicated fan though, as long after PWoG had faded from the minds of the techno collective, the label released this odds-n-sods double-disc of material from the group on the briefly run sub-label Terminal Antwerp. It’s not exactly a rare gathering of material here, the first track being their classic Obsidian. There are a few versions of this floating around, and far as I can tell, this is a slightly shorter one compared to the twenty minute Deconstructure single cut. Also here is the minimalist acid stomper The Challenge, sounding quite similar to Part 1 that opened Biospheres And Sacred Grooves; plus the stripped-down industrial-techno tune Kraak, one of the group’s later efforts.

That’s about it for the immediately familiar tracks on The Key. Oddly, eight of these ten cuts all have a “mix never released before on the market” asterix beside them. I don’t doubt the label’s claim, though Kraak has one too, along with ridiculously rare tunes like Out Now and Pull. Come to think of it, the titular cut, The Key, was also on Biospheres And Sacred Grooves. And there are a few mislabels on CD1. You’re looking sketchy, Terminal Antwerp.

So what is The Key? B-side collection? 'Almost' greatest hits? Newbie-friendly introduction? None of these, if I'm honest. PWoG already had a retrospective release out on KK Records, and if you were (or are) a first-timer to their sound, these are hardly an easy pair of CDs to get into. 'Tribal' is often tossed in descriptions, but I wager PWoG lean more primordial, a dedication to the meditative aspects of minimalist rhythms and chants. Sometimes they go more trance (The Valley), other times more downbeat (Prison Of The Rhythm), and still occasionally find nods to Detroit's approach (Out Now), but every time their music latches onto your primitive brain, dragging you into hypnotic dance. Man, I hope there aren't any subliminal messages lurking in those samples!

Though an admirable attempt at keeping the Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia's name out there a little longer, there isn't enough on The Key that’ll attract but the most devout of followers.