Eat Static - Dead Planet

Mesmobeat: 2015

I was wondering if Eat Static would ever release another album, then ol' Merv goes and gives us a double-album. No wonder he took so long then, and a good idea too. His last foray into the LP domain saw two CDs released as well, though on separate labels focusing on completely different styles. It was a neat idea to feature an exclusively downtempo album for Interchill, but it’d probably be a hard-sell twice. Folks come to Eat Static for the tear-out psy with the crazy cybernetic leads and pulpy sci-fi samples; the few mellow moments under the stoner sun are best served as respites.

Well nothing doing for Dead Planet, once again splitting the Eat Static stylee up between two discs, uptempo stuff on the titular CD, and a chill offering in the second tray titled Human Upgrade. Interestingly, this has been released on Mesmobeat, the label Eat Static set-up for themselves after Planet Dog died, and been in semi-limbo for the past half-decade. What, did no one else want to give this double-LP a chance?

Dead Planet kicks off with another System 7 pairing, tickling all those old-school goa trance triggers in my head. It pretty much goes for the twisted full-on stuff from there though (with one obligatory mint d’n’b leaning cut with Ringlefinch), tracks evolving in dark-psy fashion before unleashing a spacey bit for the climax. It’s all well-produced, but as with so much modern psy-trance, hasn’t evolved much in the past decade, and the same is true for Eat Static’s take on the sound, sci-fi quirks aside. And yet, it’s better than Merv’s dip into other music here. Dragon’s Breath is a frightfully dull tech-plodder, while In All Worlds with Robert Smith is a fine track on a cyberpunk soundtrack, but way out of place here. And Odious Odium sounds like it’s building up to a hideously obnoxious brostep drop (clap builds! glitch-bends!), then does an awesome one-eighty into spaced-out tear-out psy (that low-end!). That’s the Eat Static I love!

Human Upgrade meanwhile... holy cow, where did this album come from? As the chiller side of Eat Static, I was expecting some psy-dub rubs, or maybe a throwback cut that might have appeared on the old Planet Dog compilations. And the first few tracks do offer this, even getting Robbert Heynen of the former Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia in with Near Future Myth (dear Lord, such expansive sonics!). The back-end of CD2 then grows more ethnic, orchestrated, and wordly with the beats. There were hints of this sound on Back To Earth, but ol’ Merv’s taken things to another level here, sounding like latter-era Juno Reactor in some parts. I know I said hearing Eat Static without the quirkiness feels off, but if lush production like this is what we can also expect, I’m all for it.

Dead Planet as a whole is quite a bit to take in, but is well worth the investment for followers of the alien nation.

Arpatle - The Day After

Psychonavigation Records: 2012

Look, when I said my trawl of Psychonavigation Records' blowout sale would reveal some super obscure producers, I meant it. Wait, did I say that? I can't remember now. That big purchase was many months ago, with so much more having arrived in my towers since. My initial fears of an over-abundance of the Ireland label's material in my current backlog queue is moot, plenty more albums breaking up any potential monotony. Not that the albums I did get are redundant retreads of the same sounds, oh no! I'm amazed just how diverse Psychonavigation's proving to be, and that's including me totally ignoring all the shoegaze rock stuff. Maybe a little chillwave though.

Then, our obscure artist for the day is Patrick Bossink, or Arpatle to those buying his music. You might remember him from the Psychonavigation compilation Psychonavigation Sampler 2013, and the cassette Ik En Jij, Allebei from Yoshimi!. Oh come on, there’s no way you’ve heard that one. Maybe one of Arpatle’s other albums though, Continuum from 2009 on Family Garden Recordings, or the recently released Quapi on Offshoot Records. The Day After is the LP lodged between those two in his discography, and I’m really struggling with the background details of this guy, aren’t I? It’s the entire internet’s fault, hopelessly scarce in info surrounding him. Lord Discogs just has him down as an ambient producer from Holland. His website has even less info than that, merely a window to his releases on various online platforms. At least Mr. Bossink wrote a few more lines for his Last.fm biography, mentioning he’s been studying Music and Technologies at the Utrecht School Of Arts. Yeah, The Day After totally has the markings of an arts student.

If anything, Arpatle loves treating the studio as a mini symphony, utilizing unconventional tones, sounds, and instruments in crafting his music. Opener Solstitium has something of a Far East thing going for it, but uses an xylophone (or some mallet instrument, I’m no expert) for its lead, then goes into an extended dubbed-out excursion in the middle before returning to the twee melodies. Follow-up Crickets nabs some field recordings of nocturnal critters (I hear more frogs than crickets), then goes for a minimalist excursion through dubby tones and treatments. Third track goes drone with its effects, though has a chipper country mood about it, as though we’re riding along some Western setting on our horses. On acid.

To abstract, you know those interlude moments on Future Sound Of London albums, where they indulge themselves with sonic collages and experimental doodling? That’s what much of The Day After sounds like, though tighter in composition. Some tracks, like shoegazey Arctic Trip and the lush ambience of Wake Me Up, are quite the treat for the ears. Others, like ultra-minimalist Headache and spacious Satie’s Birthday (so much space!), instead come off as Arpatle having some art-house fun in his studio. It’s all quite pleasant, though lacking musical muscle to stay lodged in your head for long.

Perturbator - Dangerous Days

Blood Music: 2014

So synthwave's now a thing. Who knows if this neo-'80s scene has much longevity – it's not like electroclash lasted a significant amount of time – but as we are, there's a growing fascination with the decade that brought us neon-glazed urban dystopia. Mostly following in the footsteps of Jan Hammer, John Carpenter, and a whole lotta’ Sega racing games, it's sole purpose is in recreating the soundtracks of every D-grade sci-fi pulp movie and splatter-slasher flick from the '80s, many of which are lost to time and degraded VHS tapes. Initially a digital market, it’s gained enough traction that a few names have large enough followings that some labels are investing significant pressing factory time. Perturbator, or James Kent on his Delorean insurance papers, has been one of the scene’s biggest names, and became a de facto ambassador of the darker end of synthwave thanks to the popularity of his contributions to the Hotline Miami video game series.

So popular is Perturbator that he can release multiple collector’s represses of vinyl and cassette, and folks will keep snatching them up. Dangerous Days, his third full-length, has some nineteen variations released, and you just know there’s a die-hard or two who’s gathered every record, CD, and tape. Man, Blood Music sure knows how to cater to obsessives.

What’s set Perturbator apart from all the other bedroom synthwave wibblers is his know-how in the album domain. Each LP could serve as the soundtrack of a feature-length flick (likely financed by The Cannon Group, Inc.), but Mr. Kent doesn’t get so wrapped up in retro navel gazing as many synthwavers go. He instead uses the fantastical urban pulp of yore as a starting point to go in his own way, creating his own vision of helmeted vigilantes confronting the cyborg ruling class controlled by mega-corporations, and all that good rot. Hey, it’s right there in his Dangerous Days’ liner notes, a detailed screed setting the tone and theme of the music within. C’mon, I just know you wanna’ see the movie now.

Pft, no motion picture is required with this album. Just take your standard neo-‘80s tropes and paint the imagery yourself. Aw yeah, Perturbator’s Theme sees him cruising down the rain-soaked dark alleys. Future Club finds our vigilante scoping out the seedy underground looking for hot tips and cool tricks. Hard Wired brings us a touch of detached romance in a cold, cruel, chrome city. The robots are on the counter-attack in Humans Are Such Easy Prey. High octane chases sequences with nitro-turbo on Complete Domination. A quiet, reflective moment in Last Kiss, before the all-out assault with the titular twelve-minute climax to Dangerous Days. Right, something like all that.

Of course, almost all of synthwave fosters such iconography, practically to a fault. Perturbator does it better than most though, and having Blood Music as his graphic designer certainly helps set him above the pack. If you’re curious what this scene has to offer, Dangerous Days is as solid a starting point as any.

Lorenzo Montanà - Black Ivy

Fax +49-69/450464/Psychonavigation Records: 2009/2015

For a chap who’s relatively flown under the radar, Lorenzo Montanà’s built up quite the remarkable discography for himself. He got his break releasing this particular album back in Fax +49-69/450464’s waning days, but more impressively released five LPs titled Labyrinth with Pete Namlook. Meanwhile, Mr. Montanà found the time to release a second full-length, Serpe, on the label before they were forced to shut doors following Mr. Kaulmann’s untimely death. This all happened within the span of three years! I know the Namlookian One could draw several sessions out of well-known musicians (Klaus Schulz, Move D, Bill Laswell, etc.) but it’s damn cool he continued doing it even with new cats on the scene too. He must have had quite the synergy going with ol’ Lorenzo to rattle off so much music with him in such a short amount of time.

When Fax+ folded, Mr. Montanà migrated over to Psychonavigation Records, where he continues releasing albums at an impressive clip. Somehow they rescued his two solo releases from legal limbo as a 2CD reissue, which is technically what I’m reviewing here now. But Black Ivy is a ‘B’ album, while Serpe is an ‘S’ album, so part two of this double release will have to wait a month (really).

So now that I’ve namedropped a couple labels and producers with clearly recognizable music styles (Psychonavigation is recognizable on this blog now, yes?), that saves me some word count in describing Mr. Montanà’s work here. Because this is some difficult stuff to detail, believe you me. Not that Black Ivy is over-produced with micro-edits and the like, his forays into clicky minimalism quite tasteful and easy to take in - it kinda’ rests in the Venn diagram where classic ambient techno ends and modern IDM starts. His rhythms run the range from jazzy skitters (Erasing You, Kirkuk Lake, Misteries Of Nature) to downtempo click-glitch (Insect Invasion, Haliaras) to steady techno pulse (Sap 2, Dionaea, Black Ivy). Everything’s coupled with lush melodic pieces, usually melancholic and nicely wide-screened for an optimal listening experience. Not that I’d expect less from someone who made multi-channel albums with Namlook.

Despite these nice things said about Black Ivy, you’ve undoubtedly detected a hint of apathy with my words above. Two points of contention then. First, though this is a 2009 release, for some reason I keep thinking it’s from much earlier, say 2001-ish. The mild glitch production does keep it firmly current, but the ideas have me thinking material from a decade earlier. Did Mr. Montanà have a ton of stored, unreleased material before debuting with this?

It’d explain my other quibble with Black Ivy, in that this album doesn’t feel like an album-LP, just a collection of finely crafted tracks. Certainly nothing wrong with that, and I’d be amazed if ol’ Lorenzo knocked it out of the park on his first go. It’s a debut that shows tons of future promise in his career, just in need of some refinement with the format.

Liquid Stranger - The Arcane Terrain

Interchill Records: 2011

In his near decade of music making, Liquid Stranger has shown no fear in tackling any and all forms of bass heavy dub beats. Sometimes this has led him to the realms of psy-dub or dancehall grime, but other times he's wilfully tackled teeth-grinding dubsteb too. And while I know full well to avoid his (probable) bro'd out endeavours on Rottun, that doesn't mean his material on other labels won't have instances to the stuff either. Even Interchill Records, they of so much world beat vibes, couldn't be completely resistant to it. Fact is if you’re releasing any form of bass music in British Columbia, you have to show your hand on what aspects of dubstep you can bring. The market is just too big, too involved, to completely ignore it. And if ever there was a year to sell-out to that scene completely, it’d be ye’ olde time of 2011, when dubstep was brought screeching into popular discourse by a stray Skr-r-r-r-r-rillex. Thus, this was Mr. Stääf’s big chance to show me how versatile he truly was, whether he could drop a dubstep album on my ears with all these potentially disastrous elements at play.

Oh, who am I kidding? This is all just coincidence. I picked The Arcane Terrain up because the cover intrigued me, as quirky covers so often do. Artist and label aside, I’m still not sure how this wasn’t a forest psy CD.

And while that ‘show me’ angle does have some truth, it’s all pretty much moot Yes, at times The Arcane Terrain sounds like it’s an album entirely geared for the festival circuit. That doesn’t mean it’s a dubstep love-in, Liquid Stranger more often than not getting his muse on with the dancehall side of dub than anything else. That still leaves him with some annoyingly barebones tracks though, like second track Bombaclaad Star, nothing going for it than a steady hand-waving bop and an occasional mid-range fill (MC Shells’ toasting is hopelessly dull); y’know, the scene of every cliché dubstep party ever. Other tracks like Steam and Timeless follow this template too, but if Liquid Stranger was just a one-trick pony in this vein, I’d never have started digging into his discography in the first place.

I could have done without the protest-grime cuts Rise and Babylon Beast, but cool on Mr. Stääf’s part in getting KRS-One and Killah Priest on these tracks. My jam though, is always the pure reggae roots of dub music, with The Molecule Man and Vigilante doing the deed just fine. We also get some dabbling into bhangra (Totem, Laguna), gitch-chill (Overlord), trip-hop (The Squid Strander), and whatever’s going on with Zero Gravity (Balearic chill-grime?). More than ever, it shows how diverse Liquid Stranger can go, even when he doesn’t have to.

The Arcane Terrain is probably still too dubsteppy for those who can’t stand the stuff, but if you have some tolerances for the mid-range wobbles, there’s plenty other dubbed-out tunes to satisfy your ears.

ACE TRACKS: December 2015

Holy cow! That’s the letter ‘S’ now done. Over. Finished. I first started on this chunk of my music collection all the way back in May! True, there was a couple weeks of downtime in that period, plus nearly three weeks worth of alphabetical backtrack at the midway point, but damn, I never would have predicted taking to the very end of 2015 to get through it all. And it felt I was brute-forcing my way just to do it too. Know what’s even more insane though? No, not the backtrack queue that’s developed since the last one, though fair warning we’re looking at a month-plus before getting through all that. ‘T’ is almost as big a beast as ‘S’, only about thirty albums less. So, though I doubt I’ll still be plowing through that letter come summer, get ready for another long letter haul in this New Year. Meanwhile, here’s the Ace Tracks that took us to the end of ‘S’ this past month of December.


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite “Dragon Quest” Complete CD-Box
Koichi Sugiyama - Symphonic Suite “Dragon Quest VIII”
Kon Kan - Syntonic
A Positive Life - Synaesthetic
Various - DJ-Kicks: Claude Young

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 7%
Percentage Of Rock: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: Nothing comes to mind. Yes, not even the Aphex Twin tracks.

Oh, hey, none of those symphonic suites are on Spotify, what a surprise. Maybe on the Japanese version of the streaming service they are? Not that many folks reading this blog will likely care, but hey, thanks for letting me get my gaming dork indulgence on for a week there. If you must hear this music (!!), I did make a continuous mix of several pieces from these assorted CDs. It’s out there, on the internet, somewhere. Exciting.

What you get with this playlist, however, is a lot of techno. Like, I’m actually shocked by how much techno there is. Aphex Twin obviously, but even names you’d never expect get in on that action too. I guess it’s only fitting that after a month of the smallest percentage of electronic music reviews, the subsequent playlist would have the heaviest amount of traditional stuff.

System 7 - System 7 (Original TC Review)

10 Records: 1991

(2015 Update:
I've still yet to take the plunge into System 7's full discography. Shame on me. There's no reason I shouldn't have by now, especially with so much online streaming available at my whim. Maybe that should be a New Year's resolution, to finally take in the entirety of Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy, and all their quarter-century of System 7ing. It's not like I expect some wild, unfortunate genre experiments along the way, the duo essentially sticking to their psychedelic trance, prog- rock jamborees through the years (decades!). If anything, their debut remains the least System 7y thing they ever System 7'd.

This review isn't as cynical as I remember, though why I had to get my hate on with the accordion, I don't recall. No wait, I was still feeding off the backlash of Samin's Heater, that's why. I suppose I couldn't help but let my Gen-X jadedness get the better of me too, snickering at such earnest lyrics. Funny how a few extra years of added wisdom has mellowed my stance on them now. That is wisdom I feel now, right? Maybe just gas.)


IN BRIEF: A prog rocker gets chummy with dance culture.

Probably the last name you’d expect to have a trendy club hit in this year of 2008 would be Steve Hillage’s System 7 project. Although he and Miquette Giraudy have long been respected figures within dance music, their tendency to skew towards the psychedelic side of the electronic spectrum hasn’t earned them the spotlight since that style’s mid-90s heyday. Yet along comes Mr. Minimal-Marmite-Man Dubfire with one of his remixes, and propels the latest System 7 single Song Bird high into some of the more hip dance charts out there.

Such seems to be the story of Hillage’s career. It isn’t so much you’d expect him to fade into obscurity, but for all intents and purposes one would assume his contemporary relevance should. After nearly two decades as a prog rock guitarist, Hillage discovered acid house when Alex Paterson of The Orb fame discovered him. System 7 is born soon afterwards, gained a plethora of fans amongst the early goa-trance scene, became a fixture at Glastonbury’s dance tent, and just when you’d think this project has slipped away into irrelevancy, it’s thrust once again into the presence of another generation of party-goers. Perhaps that hippie attitude has provided Hillage with plenty of good karma after-all. Where he goes from here is anyone’s guess, but even if this recent mini-thrust back into the spotlight is to be his last, Hillage has done plenty in his career to deserve such good will.

Really, I don’t think anyone would have expected Hillage to be a fixture within dance music culture for so long given the rather unique plunge System 7 first took. This self-titled 1991 debut is a strange relic of its time, where scene networking could yield powerhouse collaborations of the sort found on here. Along with Dr. Paterson, you have Hillage working with techno-don Derrick May, at-the-time ace-producer Paul Oakenfold, Steve Waddington of The Beloved fame (remember them?), and Martin Glover (Youth) just on this album alone (the System 7 moniker would go on to include work with Laurent Garnier, Juno Reactor, Carl Craig, Greg Hunter, Drum Club, and recently Jam el Mar and Eat Static - whew, but is this ever a namedrop session). Yet, because System 7's concept was more about Hillage’s forays into dance music, the idea of this being some kind of electronic music supergroup was never really considered.

Nowadays, this album has mostly faded from the collective clubbing consciousness for various reasons. For one thing, it remains the only album that hasn’t been re-issued on Hillage’s new A-Wave label, although legal complications with the distributors - UK-based Ten and American-based Caroline (whom had to change the group’s name to 777 over other legal complications) - may have something to do with that. Primarily, though, it tends to be neglected since it bears little resemblance to the sort of music the project would go on to be known for.

And just what kind of music is on here? If you’re familiar with Stereo MC’s, that’ll give you a starting point, because another thing that easily dates System 7 to the early 90s is the incredibly liberal melting pot of genres on offer. There’s house, techno, ambient, soul, breaks, prog, pop, and even hints of psychedelia. With so many different influences contributing, there was no possible way a cohesive style would dominate throughout. Heck, where does one even start when describing what these songs sound like? How about the material that isn’t dated?

The Derrick May pairings easily sound fresh even today. Thumping techno cut Altitude remains superb, with Listen and ambient-intermission Fractal Liason finding the Detroit native’s futuristic touch working wonders with Hillage’s spacey guitar work; any of these offerings could hold their own in a modern-day set. Meanwhile, Alex Paterson’s ambient house specialty can be felt on Sunburst, along with his studio wizardry in Dog, coda-like follow-up Thunderdog, and the straight-forward club-cut Miracle (where Oakenfold lends his talents as well). The production on these is quite remarkable too, where it seldom feels like you’re being fed simple dance loops. There be practiced musicians in them studios, my friends, with arrangements that make ample use of their experienced song-writing skills.

On the other hand, the vocal songs are way early 90s. Whether it be Aniff Cousins’ contemplative raps (think a proto-Maxi Jazz) or Olu Rowe’s soulful singing, their themes remain constant. Freedom Fighters, Habibi, Bon Humeur, Dog, and Strange Quotations all feature lyrics that feed off the “good times are coming” attitude that was prevalent in much of the Western world following the collapse of the Soviet Union. All fine and well, I suppose; you certainly have to admire the optimism. However - and this may just be a generational gap thing - some of the messages delivered in these songs strike me as New-Agey Boomer platitudes, something that was quite common in adult pop music of the time. Looking back on it now with the benefit (detriment?) of cynical Gen-X hindsight, one can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that all the hope of social and political change of that time never gained much traction. Musically these songs are fine (well, aside from that accordion in Strange Quotations), but whether you enjoy the lyrics or not will probably boil down to personal preference. Interestingly, vocals were seldom utilized by System 7 after this release.

Anyhow, fast-forwarding back to 2008, System 7 is certainly a product of its time, and frankly has a difficult time holding up. It’s seldom mentioned when talk of early 90s releases is taking place, and despite the strong musicianship on display, remains lacking in anything one could identify as ‘classic.’ If you’re in the market for electronic music from that era, you’ll find definite worth in this album. However, for those instead just looking to get acquainted with System 7's discography, the Point 3 releases are a better starting point.

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

Aphex Twin - Syro

Warp Records: 2014

Hey, remember when there was a new Aphex Twin album? Boy, it sure was an exciting time when that new Aphex Twin album showed up out of nowhere. Everyone got to wax nostalgic about what Aphex Twin's music meant to them again. Music rags got to write up Aphex Twin retrospectives for the fourth or fifth time. Journalists got to pontificate on why Aphex Twin is such a Very Important Person in the world of techno again. Folks were just plain ol' happy to see Aphex Twin active again, even though Richard D. James hadn't left in the first place. And we wouldn’t take him for granted as we did following Druqks, no sir. We’d keep him on that pedestal he earned back in the ‘90s, forever proclaiming the new Aphex Twin album an LP without peer, beyond compare, the best new music now and forever, a- oh, wait, no one’s talking much about Syro anymore, are they. Damn, maybe he should stop flooding his Soundcloud with so much music, let us soak in an actual album for a change.

So Syro: the record with a simple title and a dozen confounding song titles (and a hilarious expenses list that runs for six foldouts!). Rumours abound as to why the RDJ’d One felt compelled to give the world another full-length of music, though as with all things with the man from the lands of Cornish, it was probably all just a whim. Like, did he really need money again? Would Warp Records really pester him to fulfill a record deal? Nah, more plausible he just wanted a chuckle over the salivating reactions at seeing the Aphex Twin moniker reactivated. Nice of him to supply us with a solid album of tunes in the process.

While no two releases from Are Deejay ever sound the same, this does have some similarities to his mid-‘90s work than anything else. There isn’t so much micro-computer editing, drill-n-bassing, or real instrument keyboard doodling, but rather getting a playful groove on, tinkering with some sounds and effects, and riding an electro acid-funk jam wherever it may lead. Considering how much Aphex Twin always sounded weird and alien, it’s odd hearing him doing something that sounds much closer to our earthly realms. True, it’s future-Earth we’re dealing with, but we’re still on good ol’ terra firma just the same. Get some shuffle on with, er, that third track. Or find yourself at a robot junglist party with, um, those last run of tracks. Or feel that throwback rave anthem with the fifth cut.

Look, I’m not gonna’ actually name these tracks. They read like computer gibberish, probably are just some random nonsense Jamesy Boy slapped together, and only gave them ‘proper’ titles so stuffy music journalists would look like bellends trying to write critical prose with Syro u473t8+e [Piezoluminescence Mix] as part of a sentence. Well, I ain’t falling for that, I tell you what.

Anyway, Syro is a good album from Aphex Twin.

Kon Kan - Syntonic

Atlantic: 1990

I’ve been severely neglecting my Canadian content this past month. Better get to it before our new Liberal overlords send me a fair-weather warning of forced patriotism. Wait, do they even care about backwater bloggers? How could they even enforce such a thing? Would they suddenly turn my review of Hot Chip’s DJ-Kicks into something by Arcade Fire? No, they could never be so nefarious. The blues, maybe, but not our boys in red (note: I voted orange). As luck would have it though, I get to meet my monthly Canadian content quota by reviewing an album by a synth-pop act whose name is a play on that quirky bit of legislation, Kon Kan. See, it’s Canadian content, backwards! Eh? Eh? Pah, witty Canuckian humor is lost on all y’alls.

I always remember seeing the name Kon Kan around, though not in any significant way. I mean, they were a Canadian synth-pop act, making dance music at a time when dance music was gaining a fair bit of popularity in the early ‘90s. They’d almost be obligated the occasional guest spot on whatever hip club music show was airing on MuchMusic at the time (X-Tendamix? Might Master T have interviewed Kon Kan at one point? Ooh, you know that’d be some retro YouTubing there). By the time I’d finally immersed myself in ‘techno’ though, they’d already folded as a group. Well, ‘group’ is a stretch of a word, Kon Kan primarily the creation of one Barry Harris. He’d update his sound for the euro dance crowds in the group Outta Control, all the while making underground house records solo and harder stuff with career remixer Chris Cox as Thunderpuss. Mr. Harris has stayed active to this day, and even suggested dusting off the old Kon Kan name with original vocalist Kevin Wynne. Because nothing old stays old, right?

Point being, there’s a lot of history to this name, and is hardly a one-and-done deal despite Kon Kan never getting bigger than their debut, Juno Award winning single I Beg Your Pardon. I sure didn’t know all this when I picked Syntonic out of a used shop. I just recognized the name from a house compilation, and took a chance after a quick listen of the first few tracks. Honestly though, I’m still wondering how that initial impression convinced me to buy this sophomore effort. Yeah, Victorious is undeniably catchy in that New Jack Swing sort of way, but dear Lord so much else on here sounds way dated.

Obviously I can’t expect blinding sonics from a 1990 Canaidan synth-pop album, even one backed by Atlantic Records, but a few tracks do work on those terms. Lead single Liberty! is just as peppy as anything from the Pet Shop Boys, Can’t Stop The Fire gets more to Harris’ house side, andTime is good cheesy italo fun, even if the chorus apes Trooper’s We’re Here For A Good Time. Overall though, Syntonic is just another long forgotten collection of dated dance pop.

The Police - Synchronicity

A&M Records: 1983/2003

“Hey, The Police, you’ve just release your most popular album ever! You’ve redefined the new wave rock movement yet again, and are adored by millions of people across several continents! What are you gonna’ do next?”

“We’re breaking up, because we can’t stand recording with each other anymore.”

Aww, yeah, they went out Beatles style, and in a funny way, Synchronicity is a little similar to Abbey Road too. Side one of both albums has something of a slapdash approach with individual offerings from the band members, whereas the second half plays like a mini-album concept from one member. Er, that’s all I got on the comparison.

But yes, Synchronicity is where The Police became house-hold names and radio staples on every pop station. Everyone knows the ode to obsessive, stalker-ish love, Every Breath You Take. Even if you somehow missed it back when, you definitely heard it after Puff Daddy nicked Andy Summers' plucky guitar hook for the Biggie tribute I'll Be Missing You. Meanwhile, the spiteful Wrapped Around Your Finger (that tempo change!) and moody King Of Pain (it’s like a continuation of Ghost In The Machine!) were not quite as ubiquitous as Every Breath You Take, but are no less recognizable the moment they come within earshot. And though the title track (and fourth single) is way '80s new wave with all the synthesizers and guitar effects at play, it remains a permanent fixture on many retro rock playlists. Not bad for a band that had to scrap its way through the British rock scene a mere seven years prior, and could only manage one instantly identifiable hit per album (Roxanne, Message In A Bottle, Don’t Stand So Close To Me, Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic).

So the singles were huge, getting everyone to rush out and grab what was sure to be a great album. I can only imagine their shock, then, upon hearing that infamous side one of Synchronicity. The titular opener is peppy enough, though not as memorable as Synchronicity II on side two. Walking In Your Footsteps has some neat electronic drum programming, a tribal rhythm that’s clearly inspired by what Peter Gabriel was up to. Next is O My God, a requisite Police new wave jam that’d often serve as filler in other albums, and a weird choice for a third track. And then Mother hits, the wacked-out Andy Summers contribution that sounds like… Arabic prog-rock paranoia? I haven’t a clue, and no one else has either. At least his other song, bluesy Murder By Numbers, has a clever message within its macabre lyrics. Oh, and Stewart Copeland, in an attempt to get back to their punk roots, provides the short, incidental Miss Gradenko. When you compare these tracks to the astounding songs Sting was writing though, it’s no wonder ol’ Gordon felt the need to go solo. Oh, if only folks could have known what was to come from that career. Wait, they did, it’s called Tea In The Sahara.