Aphex Twin - Richard D. James Album (Original TC Review)

Warp Records: 1996

(2015 Update:
Oh God, there's such a glaring hole in this review, a critical piece of information I left out. Or forgot. Or didn't bother researching for some lazy reason. Richard D. James Album is officially the first album Richard D. James produced using soft-synths as his primary music hardware, which should be totally obvious by the tonal shift in these tracks. The tickity-tack sounds, cut-up rhythms, micro-sliced sampling, and braindance glitch is common for compositions by way of computer trickery, of which this album his filled with. His prior work, still on analog gear, is more straight-forward in their arrangements, though filled with their own sonic oddities because it's Aphex. Even if that distinction is obvious though, it's an important piece of RDJA's make-up, an essential piece of music journalism I neglected.

Speaking of, man does this review ever read like a stock 'music journalism' piece. I guess that's sorta' good, in that in TranceCritic's late run we were finally coming off polished and professional. Can't say I like reading it now though, much of it feeling functional while sandpapering personality off. Probably didn't like it much then either, at least on a subconscious level. Two year hiatus was nigh.)


IN BRIEF: Aphex-Pusher? Or Square-Twin?

After so many years of being an eccentric pioneer, the perpetually creepy-grinning Richard D. James suddenly was not. Rather, he started following the lead of another eccentric pioneer, Tom Jenkinson. Legend goes James was so impressed by then-unknown Jenkinson’s live show that he quickly signed him to his Rephlex label and released the first Squarepusher album. Then, James himself went and started making tracks with similar aesthetics, where frenetic jazz-fusion rhythms were thrown into a mixing bowl of real-world noises and samples for use in sound banks.

For the Aphex Twin moniker, this was quite new. Granted, there were dabblings here and there (most famously Didgeridoo), but James had carved out his name with gritty drill’n’bass beats, strange yet lovely ambient textures, and, most famously, unique sounds that only he seemed able to create –which is no surprise since the Cornwall native's hobby was gleefully dissecting and experimenting with equipment like some kind of evil vivisectionist. Why would a guy who made a career of sounding like no one else suddenly make music that potentially did (and would when others followed his and Squarepusher's lead)?

Well, aside from the aforementioned Jenkinson influence, fact of the matter was electronic music in general was in transition in the mid-90s, and James was no exception. As a part of the old guard of rave musicians and partiers, he, like so many others, found himself at a crossroad once the original rave scene finally crumbled into separate niches: either find a way to become highly successful in the music industry, or retreat the other way to satisfy the muse. If this album is anything to go by, his initial gut reaction was to retreat – let the other guys (Orbital, Prodigy, et al) have their mainstream. Ironically, the Aphex moniker too would see mainstream success, thanks in huge part to a series of Chris Cunningham videos, but that came later.

Back to the album at hand, it isn’t nearly as over-indulgent as you might expect from the likes of James. It is, however, somewhat jarring on first listen, if for no reason than opening track 4 has some of the tinniest, blunt percs offered from any Aphex Twin tune. Sure, the melody is charming enough, but where are those trademark big crunchy beats, eh? Not here, my friends, and nowhere on this album either. The early-90s Aphex Twin has moved on.

Fingerbib aside, the first half of Richard D. James is probably going to sound like a bunch of glitchy, abrasive, noisy nonsense for those uninitiated to IDM’s more screwy, intense drum programmers. Granted, we’ve had over a decade to get accustomed to such screwbars and nutballs (Venetians Snares, Bogdan Racyzinski, to just name-drop a couple we’ve already covered [at TranceCritic]), but way back in ye’ old 1996, this was some radical sounding stuff. Poor folks were coming into this album looking for more ambient bliss like Blue Calx or drill’n’bass delights like Come As You Mean To Go On, and instead get bizarre metallic clanging in Peek 8245yadayada or contortions of modem dial-up squawks in Carn Marth. You could still hear some of those old Aphex tropes littered about - the melodies James came up with, no matter how distorted or buried they got, still sounded great - but you had to give this album repeated listens to actually get it. Aphex Twin had always been a bit challenging in that regard, but he at least could be counted on cuts that you could easily digest in one sitting. Not so much here though.

Moving on to the second half in short time, James leaves behind most of the harsh sounds in favor of cute’n’cuddly silliness. Result: something far more accessible for those untrained IDM ears out there, and a good load of giddy adulation at the cleverness of it all from the rest. For instance, the brilliantly titled To Cure A Weakling Child splices together pieces of children singing along with infantile melodies (and, of course, intense clippity-cloppity skitter-beats), creating something that’s ridiculously twee, yet very disconcerting whenever James goes into a ‘drum solo’. Yellow Calx aside (which has more in common with older Aphex material due to the synthy backing melodies), Richard D. James wraps up on such silly charming sentiments, even going so far as to include a slide whistle in the final track. It does work wonderfully in a track like Girl/Boy Song, bringing nutty grins to your face in spite of the frenetic drum work, but is simply wacked in Logan Rock Witch, which seems to be James messing around with a bunch of left over samples.

Whatever the case, Richard D. James Album is definitely one of those Must Have releases for connoisseurs of IDM. Along with Squarepusher, it set a precedent for the future direction of this wildly eclectic genre, as several others began following suite and diving off the deep end with such experimental albums (unfortunately to ever-increasing patience-trying results).

For the rest, though, I can sense a little trepidation, especially considering the short running time (finishing out at just under thirty-three minutes). Frankly - and I know this point has been hotly contested over the years - this isn’t the best starting point for Aphex Twin material. Actually, I’m not even sure which album would be, but Richard D. James Album definitely is not it. Due to the very short running times of most of these tracks, the album comes across more like a collection of jingles than songs; great jingles, mind, but jingles nonetheless.

Unless you’re already well versed in IDM sample-skitter-step, I’d hold off on this album until you’ve already taken in one or two Aphex Twin releases. You will eventually enjoy Richard D. James - if not for the eccentric attributes, then for discovering the warmth underneath the eccentric attributes - but at least this way you’ll soften that initial “WTF?” blow to your ears.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2009. © All rights reserved.

Leftfield - Rhythm And Stealth

Columbia: 1999

We’re not many, us Leftfield fans who prefer Rhythm And Stealth over Leftism. Mind, most enjoy both albums to some degree, but when pushed for a proclaimed love between the duo’s sole two LPs, Leftism gets the like-thumbs first. And why not? It’s got the classic tunes many are familiar with - Release the Pressure, Song Of Life, Open Up - plus a bevy of classy cuts running from downtempo dub, tribal ‘riddims, and progressive house. These are all easy sounds for a casual consumer of electronic music to vibe on, which was kinda’ the point when Leftfield put that album together anyway. They had new markets to penetrate.

With Rhythm And Stealth though, Barnes and Daley basically said nuts to all that and started treading where their contemporaries feared to venture. They go deeper into the dub, getting their gear good and gritty with Roots Manuva on opener Dusted, then on the cusp of UK super-stardom. Compared to the floating bliss of Release The Pressure, this is one confrontational kick-off by comparison, Leftfield letting their loyal fanbase know they’re in for a rougher ride on this LP. And in case you fooled yourself into thinking it was just a one-off, the pummeling beats and rough rhythms of Phat Planet, Double Flash, Dub Guessett, and 6/8 War reinforces the notion Leftfield aren’t playing nice for their sophomore effort. That’s half the album devoted to unrelenting submission of your psyche, radio-friendly jams be damned. And if you’re obligated in making a radio-friendly jam, I’ve no problem with it being Afrika Shox, a nu-skool electro-funk outing that rescued Afrika Bambaataa from Italian euro-dance Hell (much love for Feel The Vibe tho’!).

Still, they do mix things up with tunes more in line with the reggae dub that inspired much of their output. Chant Of A Poor Man brings back Cheshire Cat for some dancehall business, Swords is basically Leftfield’s stab at trip-hop (getting featured on all the hip rave movies of the time, ‘natch), and a pair of crackly ambient dub outings with El Cid and Rino’s Prayer mark the mid and end points of the album. Come to think of it, each half of Rhythm And Stealth is remarkably similar: opening single with prominent rapper, instrumental banger, downtempo cut, another instrumental banger, and ambient outro. Wow, I never realized that until now! I feel so stupid.

Album programming aside, the fact Rhythm And Stealth caught many off guard is one of the key reasons why I prefer it over Leftism. Barnes and Daley knew they couldn’t repeat their debut, the genres there they’d helped pioneer already coming off dated by decade’s end. Instead, they gambled on pounding dub rhythms and productions fused with other hot genres of the time, once again carving their own sound in the process. It’s an album where the listener must take in on its terms, crossover fans be damned. My kind of LP then, though understandable why Rhythm And Stealth left others cold.

Frank Bretschneider - Rhythm

Raster-Noton: 2007

Frank Bretschneider's the sort of producer I should know more about, given his long history in the realm of experimental glitch. And with that descriptor, you're likely thinking he's part of Mille Plateaux's legacy, one of their key acts at turn of the century. In fact, Frank goes further back than that, having a partnership in similar-styled label Raster-Noton where he released music as Komet before joining Mille as well. His chosen sound wasn't the sort I was actively seeking out way back when, but my so-called maturity of age has provided a measure of interest and respect of the whole 'clicks 'n cuts' scene. Thus it's only natural that my first forays into Mr. Bretschneider's discography should come when I first took my early dips within the Mille Plateaux brotherhood, which happened to be this particular album titled Rhythm. Well, not quite.

Nay, I got this from a trawling of Juno Records in search of new material to review for TranceCritic. It must have been one of the year's lean months, when hyped releases are scarce and I'd take chances on names unfamiliar to my eyes. Such was the case with ol' Frank here, and as Rhythm was filed under Juno's techno section, I thought I might end up with some kick-ass 4am bangin' shit. Oh, 2007 Sykonee, you silly naive fool, did you forget what year you were in?

That Rhythm ended up being a study in minimal beats shouldn't have surprised me, had I done a little prior back checking into Mr. Bretschneider's discography. These blind dives though, what thrills they often reveal, my uncanny sixth sense in judging albums by their covers seldom leading me astray. This LP's called Rhythm, and by God and his DJ, there's no way you can mess that up. No way at all. Except when one does.

Or rather, the Komet man's approach to this album is a strict exercise in form over function, which does fit his creative outlook, so success on those terms I guess. Dear Lord though, is Rhythm tedious: clicks, fuzz, and pops utilized in crafting beats, some low bass, and nothing else. Hell, I can't even call these 'beats', as that implies something that can latch onto your reptile brain and get you moving funky. I can hear a groove existed at some point in these tracks’ development – a hip-hop shuffle here or a breakbeat bounce there – but Bretschneider’s stripped everything down to the aforementioned clicks and such. The result is nine sterile, soulless tracks bereft of the very thing the album’s title implies should be there.

Rhythms can serve as pure head music. Just look at the spazzy braindance scene – ain’t no way folks are dancing to Squarepusher at his most insane. And I’ve heard minimalist, clicky stuff that wasn’t so dull either, though often spiced up with supplemental prefrontal cortex food (tone, hiss, pad!). Not on this album though. Bretschneider deserves another chance, but Rhythm soured me to exploring his material further anytime soon.

ACE TRACKS: March 2015

Hey, it’s April 1st, which means I have to do a prank or some shit like that. Okay, let’s see…. Um.. ah, I got it. I promise to review ALL the Armin van Buuren albums! Hahaha! Oh, that’s rich. What, too obvious? Okay, how about this one. I’ll not review all the AvB albums! Ah, hahaaha, hoho hee! That’s not a prank either? Well, what do you want, a close-up sneak peak to Ishkur’s Guide To Electronic Music 3.0? How about a fresh playlist of ACE TRACKS from the past month instead?


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
The Beatles - Revolver
Bandulu - Redemption
Various - In Trance We Trust 006: DJ Cor Fijneman

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 11%
Percentage Of Rock: 12% (note: not all the included rock bands perform actual rock here)
Most “WTF?” Track: I honestly can’t think of one with this bundle. Maybe some of the ‘cracker trance towards the end. Like, how could I ever enjoy such corn! If we’re going that route though, any Bryan Adams?

Quiz: what do Bandulu and The Beatles have in common? They’re both British! Oh, and neither are officially on Spotify, though you can find plenty of cover bands doing Beatles classics. No such luck with Bandulu, sadly.

This one came together remarkably well, which was nice considering the last few playlists were messier than I’d have liked. Even the dalliances into rock don’t sound forced (yes, even Bryan Adams). Also, as with ACE TRACKS: December 2013, I’ve lumped all the In Trance We Trust material at the end, so if you need your eurotrance fix, you’ve a jolly good lot of it at the end. Also, it seemed appropriate kicking that segment off with Faithless’ Insomnia, since they were partially responsible for clubby anthems of that sort gaining popularity.

Various - Rewind: Mark Farina

DMC: 2001

Also known as United DJs Of America 9: Frisco Disco. For some odd reason, DMC started up this Rewind series as a means of reissuing DJ mix CDs from their vaults. Not an entirely daft idea, given the long line of mixes the label had released over the years, but most of their choices were barely two or three years old. Nor was Rewind restricted to the United DJs Of America series, also dipping into Mixmag Live! back catalogue. I can only guess this had something to do with their new partnership with Razor & Tie, who specialized in reissues, though primarily of old timey jams and jingles. Gotta' corner all the markets though.

But most of ya'll don't care about these mundane label details. Nay, you're here because you're of the old school, and recognize this CD as one of the all-time greats of late-'90s deep house. You're here to read me give Frisco Disco the high praise you know it deserves. You're here because Mark Farina's mix is the sort of weapon unleashed upon all the new kids who figure the modern era of deep house is all that, when folks from the before times (the long long ago) know much of it's the bunk, so here's some proper t'ings to get edumacated on. And oh so right you are.

Honestly, the whole set can be summed up with Peter Funk's Dreams Of You, one of the most utterly lush slices of deep house records crafted (Those strings! That xylophone! And guitar! And organ! The rhythm! That looping vocal!). Nearly everyone I knew snagged up a copy of Frisco Disco for that one track alone, though the rest of Farina's selections aren’t shabby either.

Already making a name for himself on the West Coast of America, he gained more exposure abroad with the Mushroom Jazz series for the fledgling OM Records. House remained his preferred style at the clubs though, and Frisco Disco is an amalgamation of his funky, jazzy Chicago roots coupled with sunny, soulful San Fran’ style, even with half his records coming from UK producers (‘tis a global vibe, yo’). Farina’s live mix does sound a bit rough in parts (a little too much fiddling with the bass knob for my liking), he throws in a few clever tricks along the way. The opening groove has a few samples from upcoming tracks thrown in as teasers for what’s to come, and he pulls a few extended layered mixes along the way. He saves his best for the last though, playing two versions of Naked Music NYC’s It’s Love one after the other, each so similar that it comes off as though it keeps going on forever. And damn do you never want it to stop either. End Frisco Disco must though, and Farina settles for a bumpin’ slowdown of Sixteen Souls’ Late Night Jam with added sounds of birds singing in the morning sun. Whoa, the dawn’s already here? Damn, this party went by fast.

The Beatles - Revolver

Capitol Records: 1966/2009

The only Beatles album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not much of a Beatles fan. Revolver’s the Liverpool band’s ‘middle’ album, catching the foursome in transition from preppy, mop-topped lads to daring studio songsmiths. If you preferred their early rock work with sweet vocal harmonies and catchy pop choruses, Revolver has that. If you preferred their later psychedelic sounds and genre fusions, Revolver has that. And if you preferred hearing The Beatles as a unified band at the peak of their creative powers, that’s Revolver to a tee. Seriously, what isn’t there to like about this album?

Okay, maybe the stylistic jumps could be a bit much, especially back in the day when no one had a clue just how out there The Beatles would soon get (oh hi, White Album). The A-side of Revolver must have one of the wildest runs of pseudo-rock music ever crafted to that point ( and yes, I’m reviewing the ‘proper’ UK version). It all starts innocently enough, railing against The Man in Taxman for a chipper jaunt, but then McCartney turns out such a sad tune about lonely people (Eleanor Rigby) with a backing string section. Wait, wasn’t this band making happy love songs like Please Please Me and Love Me Do but a mere three years prior? Man, fame really did turn them cynical in short order, didn’t it? Oh wait, here’s bouncy I’m Only Sleeping after that, so they haven’t gotten all so serious yet, though the weird’s creeping in with a guitar recording played in reverse.

And the A-side lunacy doesn’t end yet with Revolver. Love You To is our first introduction to Harrison’s fascination with Indian instruments, which is all kinds of awesome or terrible, depending on what era of Beatlesmania you fall under (awesome!). Following that are Here, There And Everywhere and She Said She Said, which aren’t that weird compared to all else that’s performed, but lodged right in the middle of that is Yellow Submarine. Most know it as that song their parents played for them as a kid in hopes of being turned into Beatles fans at an early age. I cannot deny its sing-songy nature, fun nonsensical lyrics and cartoony sound effects is catnip to children ears. Plus, how brilliant is it that Ringo gets to sing Yellow Submarine, making the song relatable as an everyman pub chanty since you don’t need impeccable vocal harmonies to sing along.

Side number two obviously can’t compare to the first half of Revolver, though there are charming bits about (plus a total downer in For No One for the miserable sorts). On the other hand, Tomorrow Never Knows is at the end, the most big-beaty, sampledelic meaty, off-the-wall kick-assery Beatles tune ever – it’s ‘90s Brit rock thirty years early, though I’m sure all those bands freely admit Tomorrow Never Knows being an influence. It was the most perfect capper to an already dynamic album. No way The Beatles could top it. No way. (they did)

The Hacker - Reves Mecaniques

[PIAS] Recordings: 2004

Michel Amato already had a tidy techno career going for him before pairing up with Caroline Herve. He even released a debut LP way back in 1999 under his Hacker guise, Mélodies En Sous-Sol, though the buzz surrounding his early singles with Miss Kittin overshadowed it. Heck, bring up anything Hacker related, and it’s nigh impossible wondering what his partnerette in sexy detached synth-pop crimes is doing. Off being her own superstar and hanging out with her own famous friends probably, but she and Monsieur Amato have continued pairing up every so often. Oh man, I still gotta’ hear Second Album proper-like too.

As The Hacker was one of electroclash’s foremost tastemakers, another solo outing from him hitting the shelves was guaranteed. Unfortunately for him though, by the time Reves Mecaniques came out, that scene had already collapsed, journalists and electro-indie types looking for the next big nothing they could latch onto. Just as well, then, that ol’ Michel stuck to the sound that earned him critical praise in the first place: uncompromising electro and brutal, minimalist techno.

Yeah, if anyone was expecting a euro synth-poppy retread of First Album, they were in for a shock. The Hacker’s style’s long been finding ways of taking chintzy ‘80s sounds and giving them an aggressive, gritty edge. It’s as though the gear he uses was found in a Berlin back alley, abandoned and near ruin from rain and neglect. Not for Amato though, as he takes that shit home and fixes it from disrepair into something capable of music making. Why, you might even say he… “hacked” his way into it! Eh? Eh? Man, was that ever a ‘hacky’ pun.

Of course, the first question everyone asked upon clicking this review is “Does Miss Kittin show up?” Yep, on track number three, Masterplan, and it sounds as vintage Kitt’n’Hack as you’d expect, like a pair of actors slipping into familiar roles. Not to be outdone though, Amato brings in Perspects (Ian Clarke) and Mount Sims (another Matthew) for a pair of tunes in Flesh & Bone and Traces. I dunno’ so much about Clarke’s offering, in that he sounds too electroclashy, (no, I can’t explain that – you just know it when you hear it), but Sims’ croon works wonderfully with Hacker’s bleak electro.

The rest of Reves Mecaniques finds Amato going about his usual techno business. Sometimes he leans more electro (It’s The Mind, Sequenced Life, where he totally apes Kraftwerk, because yes he would shut up), and other times he goes more downtempo (Electronic Snowflakes, Sleeping Machines). He’s at his best, though, unleashing aggressive, feral synths (Village Of The Damned, Radiation), and especially so with an acid techno workout on The Brutalist. Nothing fancy about these cuts, folks, aiming straight for your rave jugular.

All said, this album is something of a precursor to the ‘maximal’ strain of techno many French producers adopted in the late ‘00s. If you’ve a hankering for that sound, then The Hacker’s sophomore effort’s for you.

Faithless - Reverence

Cheeky/Arista: 1996/1997

Given all that we’ve come to adore about Faithless, the wild genre hopping on their debut album doesn’t seem so daft anymore. Why of course they’d go from handbag house to gospel folk to trip-hop bop – it’s what they do! On the other hand, electronic music’s seen nearly two decades of deconstruction since, rendering Reverence more of a novel dip into uncharted dance waters than anything astoundingly shocking or ground-breaking. Come to think of it, it’s not like the album was that far removed from the liberal dance-fusion going on in the UK earlier in the ‘90s either. Tell me what Faithless had that groups like Stereo MC’s, 808 State, or Primal Scream didn’t have. Oh, right, those super epic house anthems. Okay, two things. Oh, right, a brilliant producer in Rollo. Okay, three- y’know what, forget it.

As the mid-'90s rolled on, Rollo and Sister Bliss were already a prominent tandem within UK clubland, but the duo felt they were capable of more than kicking out singles for amyl house heads. They also suspected the audiences that fist-pumped to their tunes on the weekend might enjoy a slower, relaxed vibe when chilling at home. And they be right, trip-hop gaining all sorts of critical and commercial traction at the time. No surprise that YOLO-Rollo and Madame Bliss would throw their hats into that lucrative pile, but they lucked out in landing a chill, conscious-leaning MC with an incredible amount of spiritual charisma. Wait, how is that lucky? Maxi Jazz' style of lyrical manifestation should have fallen flat on its face in an era of gangsta' boasting, yet punters quite enjoyed his laid-back words of wisdom and anecdotes.

Then there’s the other half of Faithless’ vocals, Jamie Catto. Most know him these days as Who’sThatNow?, but way back in the group’s formation, he was just as vital a component to the Faithless sound as your Maxis and Didos. He provided a husky, soulful croon that complemented Rollo and Bliss’ dalliances into R&B and gospel, making songs like Don’t Leave and Angelina all the more powerful for it. Wow, considering I was kinda’ blasé about his songs when I first played Reverence, I never thought I’d miss his presence in later Faithless albums. Guess it helps to grow an appreciation for music outside the easy ear-candy of plucky stadium house bangers like Salva Mea and Insomnia.

Was that the plan all along, woo in the clubbed-up caners with a pair of undeniable anthems, then drop serious music education on them when they buy the album? Mr. Armstrong and Ms. Bentovim never claimed as such, merely making the tunes that captured their interest (in less than a month, no less!) and letting the chips fall where they may. The duo sound just as surprised by Reverence’s two-fold success in interviews, though they must have suspected they had something unique going for them. The only fault with this LP I can make is Faithless had yet to realize their full potential.

ACE TRACKS: October 2013

That’s it, then. I’m done with In Trance We Trust. I don’t care if they keep releasing mix CDs, it’s over for me, finished. 020 surprised me in how much I enjoyed the results, so why risk ruining that positive afterglow of a series that did right in the end. They corrected their missteps, found the groove they always hinted was possible, and now it’s time to close that chapter, move onto other things. Eh? Anjunabeats? No…. no! Never! Here, how about some ACE TRACKS that I reviewed way back in October of 2013? There be In Search Of Sunrises here.


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Jean Michel Jarre - Jarremix
Various - Influence 1.1: A Hardtrance Experience
Sounds From The Ground - High Rising
Sounds From The Ground - Brightwhitelight

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 16%
Percentage Of Rock: 4%
Most “WTF?” Track: Brian Sanhaji - Cortosis (why did I like this track again?)

Still no Waveform Records on Spotify, thus still a significant chunk of missing music by Sounds From The Ground. ‘Tis odd that Influence 1.1 isn’t available though, as many Hypnotic Records compilations are floating throughout the streaming service. Maybe Cleopatra wasn’t satisfied with the sound quality? Oh, and no ‘Italo Classics’ either, obviously – besides, I could never do those tunes justice as Zyron did for his mixes.

This month was quite a diverse one, which usually results in a fun, eclectic playlist, but I dunno. Between all the Waveform dub, In Search Of Sunrise trance, eastcoast hip-hop, and funky-house house, things never quite clicked the way I hoped it would. Maybe I’m just being needlessly self-critical this time out. I do find it funny how, in the time since going through that particular stretch of albums starting with “I”, I’ve added twenty-two more releases within that block. Mind, two-thirds of that are In Trance We Trust mixes, but still.

Various - In Trance We Trust 020: Mike Saint-Jules & Sneijder (CDs 2 & 3)

In Trance We Trust: 2014

So Menno de Jong's mix for this 3CD mega-event Twentieth edition volume of In Trance We Trust turned out better than I expected. I suspect two reasons for that. First, Menno's unabashed enjoyment of the vintage euro-trance stylee came through in his mix, infecting me with his enthusiasm in the process – too often sets like these come off perfunctory hits rinse-outs, but not so much this one. Second, as this is an anniversary release, of course one of these discs would go the throwback route, saving the other two for contemporary takes on trance. I may as well enjoy the CD that shares some attributes of my early rave days, even if I did my darndest to avoid it back then. After all, whatever Mike Saint-Jules and Sneijder have in store will obviously be inferior.

Oh, hi Sagat, what brings you to this review? Wait, what are you-

Sagat: Tiger Genocide!


*several hours later* Oh man, did I ever get some sense knocked into me. A real slap-shocker, just like listening to these remaining two CDs.

I’ll be damned, but both discs mostly pick up right where Mr. De Jong left off. Mind, Saint-Jules’ set does plod for much of its first half, the sort of thunking anthem prog that made some previous In Trance We Trust volumes such a chore to get through. Things get especially dire midway with a pair of tunes that sound like they’re hitching onto recent Dutch house nonsense (of course Richard Durand would be one of the producers). It was all that I feared from these sets.

Then, in an instant, MSJ’s done with it, starts unloading his own brand of hard trance bangers, and holy geez, these are just as much fun as Menno’s offerings. Why are these fun? Logic says I’m supposed to hate these, but damn if I don’t get the feels for these anthems. They’re just so unapologetic, earnest, and don’t give a fuck what those other scenesters think. It doesn’t hurt ol’ Mike keeps his mixes quick, never letting tunes dawdle for longer than they need to – even the breakdowns have something keeping the momentum, serving as lulls rather than full-stop dithering tedium. It’s euro-trance that utilizes its clichés with efficiency, and is all the better for it.

Meanwhile, this Sneijder fella’, hot damn, he’s just relentless with the energy. Even with breakdowns and supersaws and the whole lot, I’m completely on board his set from start to finish. It’s the beats, mang, relentlessly vicious rhythms that make all the requisite euro-trance downtime bearable (I imagine even with a gun to their head, euro-trance DJs would sooner take the bullet in their brain than play a track without a breakdown).

I still wouldn’t recommend In Trance We Trust 020 to anyone uninterested in this scene, but then it’s not trying to win such folk over anyway. These guys are done with appealing to tourists, perfectly content catering to those who never stopped trusting in trance. D’aaww, so sappy. PLUR hugs!