Eminem - The Slim Shady LP

Interscope Records: 1998

Seven years wasn’t long enough for the bitter aftertaste of Vanilla Ice’s brief dominance at the top of the charts. Perhaps that shameful moment in hip-hop’s history could never be cleansed from public consciousness, forever ruining whatever hope white rappers not named Beastie Boys might have in breaking it in that scene. Heck, the only other marginally successful Caucasian group in ’97 was ICP, and few gave them much care since they were so thoroughly committed to their clown show, no one took them seriously. And hip-hop are serious musics, see, dealing with serious issues of the day, and serious stories of rags to riches. What could a white boy from Detroit know of hardships in America?

Plenty much, turns out. Via an extreme persona dubbed Slim Shady, Eminem offered a look inside the side of life below the poverty line for American Caucasians (re: white trash), a topic almost unheard of in the world of rap. Punk rock, sure; metal, of course; blues and country, sometimes yeah. Hip-hop though, that's music for the black community, performed for the black community – how could they relate to the things Mr. Mathers dealt with?

Not much, to be honest, but they couldn't deny his skills on a microphone, spitting out battle rhymes and telling stories on par with any of the best MCs of the ‘90s. It was enough to draw the notice of Dr. Dre himself, hearing fresh fire in the kid from Detroit that hadn't been heard in hip-hop for years, the old guard all too comfortable in their established roles. Eminem had the talent, the unique perspective, and the drive to take the world by storm; all he needed was the guidance, which Doc' Dre provided. Then they released the corny-ass My Name Is, instantly dividing the MTV generation on whether Eminem could ever be taken seriously.

Oh all right, it was mostly me, but I don't doubt I was alone in suspecting Eminem nothing but a novelty one-hit wonder after that video. Hell, even the stuff he was graphically detailing wasn't too far off from the shock humor of South Park and Jerry Springer. Hip-hop associates kept telling me, “Don't judge him by that one song, it's the worst one off the album. You gotta' hear the rest of it, man!” Yeah, yeah, I'd nod, but considering I had yet to take my proper rap plunge, fat chance I'd ever hear The Slim Shady LP in full. Still, tracks like Guilty Conscience, My Fault (aka: the mushrooms song), and Role Model did find their way to my ears at the odd house party, and I couldn't deny they were fun, twisted tunes.

But nay, it wasn't until after hearing The Marshall Mathers LP and growing to appreciate Eminem the artist that I finally went back to The Slim Shady LP. And lo’, it was indeed a good album, a wild, reckless ride through lower class society’s worst traits. I sure don’t want to stay there for long though.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Sleeps With Angels

Reprise Records: 1994

Sleeps With Angels is one of the best albums Neil Young and his Crazy Horse ever put out, yet hardly gets mentioned in discussion. True, some of their other records had more impact on rock’s landscape – no one's taking away classics like Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere and Rust Never Sleeps. This one though, note for note, chord for chord, guitar for piano, drum for flute, distortion for melody, Sleeps With Angels is a beautiful album. Not because it paints a pretty picture, oh no! These are some incredibly bleak songs, topics of death, decay, and depression all presented in as grungy a way as blues rock can go. There's something captivating about all this misery though, like scenes out of an art-house film without the pretentious waffle that comes with it.

For instance, the criminally overlooked song Driveby, which deals with drive-by shootings and the tragedy they so often create. Young doesn't preach, laying out one senseless scenario after the other, the music he and Crazy Horse provide marching at a sombrely pace as though they're funeral pall-bearers. Their harmonized chorus, simply the title of the track, is such a heart-breaker, you wonder if the band themselves suffered a drive-by death in the family.

And so much of Sleeps With Angels is like this. Prime Of Life details the insidious nature of tabloid magazines ruining the Royal Family, the titular cut touches on Kurt Cobain's suicide with distortion dragged through the ugliest gravel pit, Western Hero forlornly recalls past glories of an old cowboy, Trans Am forlornly recalls past glories of a Trans Am, Safeway Cart paints a portrait of ghetto decay, and the epic fourteen minute long Change Your Mind tries consoling with extreme depression, wary of the spectre of suicide ever lurking in the shadows. My God, it wasn't that many years prior Young gave the world the sentimental Harvest Moon, much less teaming up with The Horse on the free-wheeling Ragged Glory. Even the one 'cock rocker' on here, the hilarious Piece Of Crap, rants on about disposable consumerist junk. What made them turn so dour? '90s, man, f’n '90s.

I wonder if that’s why Sleeps With Angels doesn’t receive the same Boomer plaudits as Young’s older work. The songcraft is all here, Neil & Crazy as tight-knit yet wonderfully loose of a unit during their ‘90s resurgence, but older folks just don’t talk it up much. Are the topics too touchy for his traditional audience, a sense of all the things that generation had worked for run ragged and cast aside by Gen-X’s emergence upon adulthood? Figures Young found a common link between the two with his music, the grunge aesthetic he helped pioneer turned into musings on the state of the nation. Its topics the adults could relate to, but wrapped in a package appealing to the teens, and all the more brilliant for it. Sadly, that also lands Sleeps With Angels in a nowhere land between disparate music scenes, often neglected by both.

Kiko - Slave Of My Mind (Original TC Review)

Play It Again Sam [PIAS]: 2008

(2015 Update:
I keep thinking Slave Of My Mind will wear off on me, the attributes I found charming back in 2008 finally sounding campy or derivative. I keep thinking the only reason I gave it such praise was for its lack of things I disliked back then - the electro-fart nonsense, the minimal plonk-wank, the stoopid-club fodder. It never happens though, the thin line between tasteful and wack continuously toed with finesse. This is a fun album for a mild bit of brooding dance music, and is a shame Kiko never followed up on it.

Not that he hasn't been busy though, still cranking out singles by the cart load. Taking in a few of his more recent ones, it seems Kiko's gone the way of house music again. Tech-house, deep house, a little techno on the side - all the usual sounds you'll find in typical underground clubs I guess. Aww, why you no darkwave no more, Keekee? It's bound for another resurgence in the near future if nu-new retrowave movements have any momentum going for them.)


IN BRIEF: A misstep, or misunderstood?

Christophe Dallaca, or Kiko as he’s more commonly known in the clubbing community, had a promising leap into recognition during the first half of this decade. A part of the French techno connection that was injecting elements of italo and New Beat into their music, he was amongst the early adopters of electroclash, and even survived the backlash with subsequent acid hits such as Jack In The Box. Yet, while compatriots such as The Hacker and Vitalic have maintained a respectable profile as the years went on, Kiko seems to have faded off.

Do I have an answer for such occurring? It could lie within his second album, Slave Of My Mind. It would seem, as with so many others this past year, the Frenchman’s been influenced by the German aesthetic. Not to say Kiko didn’t have an inclining for moody minimalism in the past but not to the degree we have on this album. Gone is the italo, and even his native country’s influence is mostly absent; as such, so is much of what made Kiko… well, Kiko.

And unfortunately for Monsieur Dallaca, he isn’t adding anything to the German sound that hasn’t been touched upon for the last couple years. When everyone from Dutch trance producers to UK prog jocks to nearly every house producer under the sun are taking a stab at it, Kiko would have had to do something utterly revolutionary to stand out from the glut. Sadly, Slave Of My Mind doesn’t have anything close to that, and as a result we are left with a collection of tracks that are nicely produced but difficult to distinguish from the pack. Thus, Kiko fades from public consciousness.

That said, Slave Of My Mind does venture into territory few seem willing to frequent: darkwave… of a sort. The titular track and World End Rock Up reach into the gloom that made up much of the industrial-goth sound that’s been quite popular in German circles, all the while using melodramatic-yet-slight synth strings to sell the vocal angst. Wrap it up in techno beats, and you have a pair of tracks that’ll probably come across a bit too ‘hands-up’ for serious crowds, yet too dismal for general audiences. This easily makes Slave Of My Mind and World End Rock Up the best tracks on Kiko’s album, as they aren’t blatantly pandering to any group in particular, and are infectious dance numbers to boot.

Aside from additional vocal number So Time, which is a relatively average stab at injecting angst into a typical electro-house tune, the rest of the tracks don’t venture far off the murk-techno path. And although this is nothing any connoisseur of techno wouldn’t have heard before, Kiko still manages to craft hooks that are quite infectious despite being comparatively subtle; it’s difficult writing off stuff like PH-1 and Sunburn when they so easily get lodged in your head. He even takes a competent stab at that ambiguously named sub-genre neo-trance, throwing spritely glitch-melodies in Preludia and Alone In The Dark; it’s what Sander van Doorn’s album could have sounded like if the Dutchman had made a point in his tracks rather than dickering around with go-nowhere ultra-effects builds.

What Slave Of My Mind could have done without, however, are the three ambient doodles thrown about the album. They aren’t altogether awful, mind, just rather pointless; I’d have preferred seeing one of the b-sides to the singles show up instead (Maximale would have made for a killer contribution!).

I’m sure there are a number of folks out there that would disagree with my assessment of Kiko’s latest; after all, he’s no longer the Kiko most enjoyed years back, nor will he win much favor with the ‘I are serious techno serious fan’ groups. Damn it though, this is my review and despite the rough edges, Slave Of My Mind is quite enjoyable. You won’t be blown away by it, but it’s still entertaining from start to finish, which is more than can be said for most albums on store shelves. Put this one in the front-running for the Unduly Neglected Albums Of 2008 category.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved.

Ott - Skylon (Original TC Review)

Twisted Records: 2008

(2015 Update:
Nothing helps appreciation of an album grow like being exposed to inferior examples of the genre. Not that I didn't enjoy Ott's second LP way back when, but I felt his production a bit too slick for a trippy style like psy-dub. What he does have, however, is flow, sounds and samples making sense in their utilization. Since Skylon dropped, I've heard all manner of tracks that throw in so much wibble, it renders tracks nearly unlistenable, and the advent of dubstep mid-range random wobble often made matters worse. Less really is more in some cases, y'know.

Ott hasn't been up to much on the production front since Skylon. He released another LP in 2011 called Mir, which I haven't heard because rumor mill contends he also went a little dubsteppy on that one. *sigh* No one could escape it that year, so I don't blame him catering to the festival market a little. Maybe I'll give it a check sometime, but considering I've yet to even hear Blumenkraft in full, I'm not in any rush for more Ott music. Skylon's plenty for the time being.)

IN BRIEF: Warm fuzzy feelings.

As my fellow writer [Jack Moss] said, “Another psy-dub album?” I suppose he has a point - for a genre of music that maintains a highly niche following, we do tend to cover a fair amount of it. However, the enigmatic Ott has garnered himself a higher profile than your average psy wibbler, having provided studio production and engineering for several rock bands before delving heavier into electronic music. It was his pairing up with psy legend Simon Posford for the Hallucinogen remix album In Dub that gained Ott the most critical notice though, and has since often worked with as collaborator on several high-profile releases (Shpongle and Dub Trees, to namedrop just a couple).

Having fiddled away in studios for most of his career, it came as something of a welcomed surprise when Ott released a full-length album of original material way back in 2003. Although Blumenkraft didn’t receive huge recognition beyond the genre’s faithful, it did cement the reclusive producer as one to keep an eye out on for future releases. Half a decade since that solo debut, Ott provides his follow-up in Skylon.

And where do we find The Ott (yes, this is the only name he provides) in this year of 2008? Not moving that far, to be honest. Much of his psy-dub execution remains unchanged, within his sonic scope and the genre as a whole; anyone who’s had a passing familiarity with this kind of music since even the Megadog era won’t find much innovation. Reggae rhythms, trippy atmospherics, cultural-fusion, ethnic samples... stop me if you have heard this before.

What Skylon lacks in inventiveness, however, Ott more than makes up for in musicianship. Mellow melodic moments that move the mind and soul? Yep. Catchy chants that hook into your mind? You bet. Intriguing effects-play that tickle the ol’ psyche in imaginative ways? Ya’, guy. Beats and bass giving your feet a case of the funky shuffles? F’sure. There may not be many songs offered on this album, but each one delivers in a way that is quite satisfying as the CD plays through.

In case that broad stroke of a description isn’t incentive enough for you to check Skylon out, here are some highlights to pique your curiosity further: The Queen Of All Everything, after lazily cruising along with melody, hits a lovely little synth climax - not to be outdone, dub-cut Signals From Bob pulls the same, with results that are thrilling for the ears; Daisies And Rubies is quite the free-flowing bit of spacey dub, with musical indulgences to spare, but the theremin towards the end is a delight to hear; if Ott was ever given the opportunity to cross over, the bhangra-influenced Rogue Bagel proves he definitely has the chops to pull it off; just as potent a dancefloor weapon is Roflcopter, where dubby breaks, cheeky samples, and trippy effects make this track a potent weapon for those outdoor parties.

Lowlights, then? None, really. About the only fault one could be nitpicky about is sometimes Ott’s production can come across as too polished. While it never seems as though he’s unintentionally stripped the soul of his music in the way other studio-obsessives have, nor does Skylon really have any of those pure unpredictable psychedelic moments that some of the best psy-dub albums of the past contain.

Of course, there’s also the argument this isn’t the kind of music that everyone will enjoy, but if psy-dub isn’t your bag then chances are you haven’t even read this far to begin with. Besides, Ott has managed to produce an album that should be appealing to those looking to get their feet wet. Although long-time connoisseurs of the genre may come away somewhat underwhelmed, Skylon offers more than enough infectious rhythms, pleasing melodies and engaging harmonies to please all parties.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved

BushX - Sixteen Stone

Interscope Records: 1994/1996

This being a Canadian blog, I must call this band BushX. The Can-Con Commission is ruthless, often breaking knees over preserving our heritage, including making sure a home-grown Bush band doesn't get overshadowed by a foreign Bush band. What's funny is with the immense popularity of Gavin Rossdale's group, Roy Kenner's group got more publicity for their infringement lawsuit than any of their music garnered - from the Gen-X crowd anyway. What's even funnier is it worked, my brain still subconsciously treating this album as a BushX record, not a Bush one. This, despite the fact BushX technically no longer must be called BushX within our borders. Guess after London Bush disbanded for a while, Toronto Bush saw little need for anal-retentive clarification of whose Bush is whose.

Anyhow, Sixteen Stone. This was a ridiculously popular album back in the day, though I'm hard pressed to think of anyone admitting they throw it on anymore. It certainly hasn't aged as terribly as many other post-Nirvana grunge bands, but nor does it have the gritty charm of the original Seattle invasion. BushX sound just a little too polished with their distortion, a little too clean-cut in their angst, a little too big label produced for a supposed grassroots music scene. And yet almost no one initially wanted to sign them. Grunge from the UK? Balderdash!

Super success notwithstanding, the band has a humble beginning, Gavin and fellow guitarist Nigel Pulsford joining forces through a mutual love of Pixies. They're competent musicians, knowing their way around feedback and riffs that are heavy, dreary, and all that good grunge stuff. I dunno though, it all feels off, even to these ears that have as little exposure to the genre as a '90s teenager could hope to achieve. Matters aren’t helped when Gavin just doesn't strike me as a 'proper' grunge leading man, y'know? I cannot deny he's got stage presence, a look and voice just as impressive as Cobain's wretchedness, Scott Weiland's hot mess, and Eddie Vedder's pearly whites. Wouldn't he be better served fronting a traditional heavy alt-rock band though?

Whatever. Machinehead’s a kick-ass tune, no one can ever deny that. Most of the other songs rock well enough for a casual listen, and I’m sure almost every girl made out to Glycerine before Aerosmith stole BushX’s teen dance thunder. Hell, even Ishkur was a big enough fan to get this limited edition 2CD version with a bonus live recording included. Explain yourself there, mang.

Ishkur: “I had that? I had no idea.”

Dammit, doesn't everyone obsess over their CDs?

Honestly, I was curious to hear how disc two sounded, whether the studio polish of CD1 capably translated to stage performance. Screaming girls aside (because of course), it was pretty cool, the band sounding much looser and Gavin’s singing straining in a cool sort of way. Maybe the band realized this rougher sound served their music better, going with Steve Albini for their second album. It didn’t serve their sales though.

Dogon - The Sirius Expeditions

World Domination Recordings: 1998

I’ve probably said what I’m about to write before, but I’ve been writing these reviews for nearly thirty-two months now. I’m bound to repeat myself a few times, return to salient points, and reiterate former rants when appropriate after a ton of time has passed between. And this fact, this tidbit of aged wisdom I’m about to impart, it needs repeating, must be repeated so we all remember its sage advice such when another generation emerges that deserves the knowledge. Whatever is this bastion of high intellect I’ve bequeathed upon thee hence, and shall do so posthaste? Yes, what is this peon of insight that will bring clarity of mind and soul to all that who shall now read it?

An album like Dogon’s The Sirius Expeditions would never have gotten attention without the ‘brick & mortar’ music shop, and that’s a darn shame.

Actually, I don’t know if that’s true anymore, what with a million and one micro-meme genres popping up every year now. A lot of those seem to start out as a joke though, something done as a lark to impress fellow young bedroom producers on a /mu/ hub, but man oh man do they get attention. Dogon, however, have some serious talent behind them, musicians that know their way around a studio and song craft. They’re loosely ambient, but that doesn’t stop them from going all esoteric with pseudo-jungle beats and whatever it is they’re doing in Plexus (big beat acid Orb jam?). They do ridiculously sentimental New Age tunes (Pah), mysterious ethnic –fusion dub (The Round Buddha Factory, Melonheart), sun-kissed hippie festival glaze-outs (a cover of Pink Floyd’s Fat Old Sun, and sorta’ follow-up Joven Flaca Luna), and brooding, meditative ambience (Locus Voci, The Unknowable). Naturally, the titular twelve-minute cut runs the gamut of all these features, then goes for the super-epic orchestral build to sell that cosmic journey.

Okay, I’m way overselling The Sirius Expeditions. The tonal shift throughout this album is jarring, making for a difficult playthrough. This is the sound of a group (primarily Miguel Noya and Paul Godwin, with assorted musicians joining in for the fray) with a ton of ideas but knowing full well their reach will be limited. Lord Discogs lists scant else by Dogon, two other albums and little more. So they go for the gusto, indulging in all their idiosyncrasies while proudly proclaiming “we’re not commercial, we’ve came to grips with ourselves with that”. It’s a wacky ride that’s at times exhilarating, other times charming, but equal parts confounding. I’ve played this many times over, thinking this will be the time it all clicks, yet something consistently holds me back.

Hey, at least I’m giving it repeated plays, something that can’t be said of many other CDs in my collection. And I’d never have gotten it too, if it hadn’t been idling on that Virgin Megastore shelf so many years ago. Praise be the random chance purchases, and all the bizarre musics that may come with them.

Depeche Mode - The Singles 86>98

Mute: 1998

Depeche Mode, the band everyone loves when they want to get in touch with their darkside, and will get beaten to a bloody pulp by the South Park goth kids for it. Depeche Mode, the band that’s seen so much reinvention over the years, even their long standing fans have formed tribes based on which version is the one true Mode. A band that had a singles package released before their most recognized songs hit the radio waves, followed the year after with another ‘greatest hits’ album to accommodate those, and was still followed upon by some of their most famous songs. They soundtracked everything from foppish New Wave clubs to nebbish S&M dungeons to family friendly mall speakers. They’re the band you enjoy until their sound falls out of fashion, secretly admire while no one’s looking, then proclaim a long-standing devotion when it’s cool to do so again.

So yeah, Depeche Mode has had a career, one lengthy enough for retrospectives dividing their different eras. Obviously the mid-‘80s record The Singles 81 → 85 covered the early portions of their discography, but albums Black Celebration, Music For The Masses, and Violator came after. These LPs held the songs Stripped, Strangelove, Behind The Wheel, Enjoy The Silence, A Question Of Lust, A Question Of Time, A Question Of Your Personal Jesus… Basically every song we’ve come to associate with Depeche Mode (that reverb!), even those who contend Just Can’t Get Enough is their crowning achievement.

Naturally another greatest hits package had to capitalize on these singles. Like, shortly after the ‘90s took form, when their darkwave synth-pop sound could no longer stand toe-to-toe with trendier sounds like industrial rock and raving techno. Get a few extra dollars from their fans and- wait, Depeche Mode’s still going? What’s with this ‘adapting with the times’ strategy of theirs? It’ll never work, “never” claims the critics! Well, the band must have been doing something right, for they managed a whole second CD of singles from their ‘90s efforts.

Honestly, CD2 of The Singles 86>98 isn’t as memorable as CD1. The albums released during that period - Songs Of Faith And Devotion and Ultra - have their fans, and it’s remarkable the band navigated the ‘90s as capably as they did before ‘80s revivalism gave them another boost with 2001’s Exciter. Yet, hearing them go all distorted in I Feel You and Useless, or try trip-hop with Barrel Of A Gun, doesn’t quite mesh with how I, a passive fan, fancy the group. Leave the angst-ridden sonics to Nine Inch Nails, and give me more of that cinematic melodrama bombast in Little 15. Wait, why is that song on CD2?

I guess there’s no harm in slapping a second disc of material to an essential first, but was there no other way of summing up thirteen years of band’s career? CD1 has all the songs you know and love, CD2 has the fans-only material. So much cake that needs eating too.

Aldrin - Singapore Tribal

Muzik Magazine: 2001

After a solid string of free CDs from Muzik Magazine, Singapore Tribal was such a letdown. No cool new sounds like electroclash. No tasty club hits like Chocolate Puma or Bent. No exposure to UK exports like grime or nu-skool breaks. This was just house music - kinda’ dark, a bit like the opening portions of a (then) recent Danny Tenaglia mix, but well outside my interests. If I was gonna’ get down to a brooding, dubby mix of house-based grooves, I’d get my fix from the prog camps, not this ‘tribal’ thing. Thus Singapore Tribal languished in my collection for years upon years, not even roused for a pity play. And finally, now forced to revisit Aldrin’s mix for Muzik Magazine, I must kick thyself with much gusto and shame, for oh Lord what I wouldn’t give to hear something like this out in this day of age!

I should have had more faith in Muzik, having bestowed upon Aldrin Quek praises like “Best New DJ” and “one of the world's finest residents”, referring to his home behind the decks at Zouk in Singapore. Clearly I wasn't ready for this sort of house in my life, but I also single out two other factors that soured me to Aldrin's mix CD. First, the mastering is rather rough, with frequent clipping of bass kicks. Maybe Aldrin prefers a gritty, muddy sound in his sets, but having grown used to crystal clear dynamics from Digweed mixes, I wasn't vibing on it at the time. Second, a big piece of this CD’s promotion went into a big new remix for Inner City's Big Fun, which is a big ol' bore as far as I'm concerned. The fact I'm certain none of y'all have hear of D-Wynn's tech-house rub of the Saunderson classic only proves trend-hopping remixes are seldom worth the hype. Ultimately though, Singapore Tribal didn't do it for me because I expected compilations from my free Muzik CDs, not DJ mixes. How dare a UK magazine not meet a single young Canadian adult’s expectations!

Master Sky Fairy willing though, age grants us the wisdom to learn from our earlier follies, and I came around to the sounds Aldrin was pushing. It still doesn't excuse me from ignoring a solid mix CD from Mr. Quek for so many years, but I'm pleasantly surprised that Singapore Tribal pleasantly surprised me with this playthrough. While the mastering is still too rough for my liking, and that Big Fun remix is still a big bore as a closer, the rest is pure dopeness. Thumping tribal business from Peace Division and Khaimar, chugging dub work from Jeff Bennett, bumpin’ tech-house from Jay Tripwire, and deep acid groove from Aldrin himself easily makes up for the few weak moments. Aldrin's mixing is mostly smooth throughout, momentum kept on the up such that one can easily get locked into a sweaty groove in a hot underground climate. Damn, I want to hear this stuff at a club again...

Andrew Heath - The Silent Cartographer

Disco Gecko: 2014

In one of the great cosmic coincidences within my music collection, CDs from Simon Heath is followed upon by a CD by Andrew Heath in my alphabetical organization of album titles. I don't think they’re related. Even more coincidentally though, they both produce ambient music. Okay, given the amount of ambient I have, it's not that great a coincidence.

Plus, they're at complete opposite ends of the ambient spectrum. S. Heath makes dark, brooding ambient as Atrium Carceri and Sabled Sun, while A. Heath makes calm, meditative ambient as, um, Andrew Heath. Also, the former has quite a few releases to his various aliases, whereas the latter has very little. Lord Discogs claims Andrew floated about in ambient obscurity with Felix Jay as Aqueous, releasing a few albums in the '90s before all musical records of him disappear until very recently. Somewhere along the way, Toby Marks got wind of his music, and signed him to his Disco Gecko label. And now you know why I'm reviewing The Silent Cartographer in the here and now. Like, if Banco de Gaia reps the chap, there's gotta' be some dope transmissions coming in from Mr. Heath (no, not signals).

After taking in this album though, I'm left puzzled by the Banco bump. The Silent Cartographer is ambient at its most traditionalist, with soothing synth tones, delicate piano touches, and occasional soft percussion. The opening titular cut, running at thirteen minutes in length, harkens back to some of Pete Namlook and Dr. Atmo’s work as Silence, lazily idling along with soft pads ebbing and flowing while various field recordings come and go. There are birds chirping, water running, boats creaking, and… repair work near the end? It’s all very relaxing though, perfect meditation music if that’s your sort of thing.

And so is the rest of the album, little variation in terms of mood and tone. The Twilight World uses pad synths with more prominence as it develops, Shoreline (Found Object) has a pleasant planetarium vibe going for it, Still Point works in a little vinyl crackle for extra warmth, and The Poet’s Dream feels ‘old-school’ with some vintage synth sounds used. For the most part though, these ten minutes pieces are led by piano, and here’s where I make the inevitable Harold Budd comparison. What, were you expecting a Hybrid Leisureland one instead? Can’t be helped, Mr. Budd casting a long shadow in the ‘piano ambient’ scene. The shorter Paper Boat sounds like something right out of his work with Brian Eno in The Pearl. Say, maybe that’s why I picked up The Silent Cartographer, figuring this album would represent the historical drama I keep believing The Pearl is based upon.

Mm, no, it’s definitely because of the Banco bump. You’d think a guy known for ethnic-fusion beats would curate artists of similar ilk to his label, but maybe Toby Marks has long had an unrealized soft spot for art house ambient too. Don’t expect Mr. Heath at a Megadog reunion though.

Sabled Sun - Signals I-III

Cryo Chamber: 2014

One does not simply let a sci-fi concept rest on its singular story, not when there is an entire world created. Simon Heath felt there was more worth exploring with his Sabled Sun concept, but wasn't keen on getting bogged down with divergent side-stories, sub-quests, or cul-de-sac tales. Enter the Signals series, digital-only compositions of hour-long ambient drone, loosely tied with the other Sabled Sun albums as companion pieces, but not integral to the main narrative – so like DLC, then?

Honestly, for as much as Mr. Heath's project intrigues me, I only had mild interest in these tracks. I barely indulge in lengthy drone of this sort as it is, preferring the genre in manageable bite-size chunks. Not to mention I remain a staunch believer in only committing hard cash to hard copies, even as the market continuously erodes the need for such mediums (however, it will never erode the ‘want’). On the other hand, unlike other fields of drone, the idea of dark space ambient has a certain allure, a suitable pairing capturing the harsh reality of desolate nothingness that is much of the cosmos. Maybe I'd check out Signals on a streaming service some day, even if I'd never get a chance to review it here.

Then I discovered a three-disc set of Signals had been released. Well, that settles that.

Though it really goes without saying, I’ll say it anyway: if you don’t care for dark droning ambient music, Signals won’t change your mind. These are about as dark and droning examples of the genre as you’ll likely find, though followers of Mr. Heath claim his work as Atrium Carceri is among the best of recent artists, so maybe this is decent starting point too.

Or maybe not. Signals I is almost an endurance test to get through, completely atonal and sonically crushing on the psyche. Running with the Sabled Sun setting, it feels like I’m trapped in orbit of a dying planet, waves of radiation bombarding me from above and below. There’s no emotional resonance here, just stark existence, unable to escape the calamity before me. Only as the droning ambience slowly recedes is a respite granted, though somehow I’m much lonelier because of it. Signals II feeds off of that feeling, also featuring a persistent humming drone throughout though much more subdued and spacious. The first twenty minutes of this track also has an intermittent high-pitched sound, like a transmission trying to pierce the desolate vast emptiness of the cosmos. The droning then changes pitch, and a similar sound briefly plays, as though finally responding to the desperate signals of before. Then nothing but the ebbing waves of drone after that. Dear lord, this is some bleak stuff.

If any of these CD-length tracks have hope it’s Signals III, where minimalist musical tones lend human emotion to the concept. Really, this is little more than a dirge, but man, after feeling such inhospitable isolation in the previous two Signals, any connectivity is welcome.