Alphaxone - Altered Dimensions

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Cryo Chamber was initially just an outlet for Simon Heath’s own material, mostly re-issuing his Atrium Carceri back-catalog alongside his newer project Sabled Sun. Not sure whether he had intention of expanding it beyond that, but surely he knew a few like-minded brooding souls in the dark ambient scene that would fit his idea of ‘cinematic drone’. He was smart about it though, resisting releasing a glut of digital material in hopes of a few stickers. As Cryo Chamber offered CD options as well, the label would have to be a bit pickier in whom they dealt with. This has led to a comparatively smaller roster of producers on the print, but one where each is distinct from the other, where they can build a unique discography under the Cyro Chamber banner. Considering the label’s catalog has quadrupled in the past two years, I’d say they’re onto something good here.

Of course I would be saying that considering I splurged on them when they had a CD blowout over the winter months. Also consider: I knew squat about anyone else on the roster, leaping into all these dark ambient producers completely cold. Hell, I had yet to even sample Mr. Heath’s Atrium Carceri material. To so thoroughly dive into a label promoting music I’ve seldom crossed paths with in the past is one heck of a faithful leap, but one that’s paid off, nothing on Cryo Chamber disappointing yet.

Okay, I’ve spent half this review explaining why y’all be seeing a lot of this label’s material in the coming months. I already went through Alphaxone’s history in the Absence Of Motion review, and there sure isn’t much else I can add to that here. Altered Dimensions, meanwhile, is the second album the Iranian producer released on this print. That’s right, folks, it’s a reverse chronicling of Alphaxone’s output! We’re, like, time-travelers, yo’, inching ever so slowly towards Prime Alphaxone, in the long ago of 2012-ish.

As such, Altered Dimensions takes us to the more abstract explorations of Mr. Saleh’s muse, this one coming off like a journey into the geometric labyrinth-scape at the end of Hellraiser 2. None of that body-horror stuff with grotesque Cenobites lurking about, oh no. We’re in a realm where things are askew from our normal reality, familiar in construct but alien in design. There’s even something of a grounding starting point, opener Distances offering a minimalist rhythm complementing the waves of dark synth pads washing over you - reminds me of something off of a recent Ultimae Records collection.

This is definitely a ‘journey’ sort of album, letting you take in the scenery as you envision with Alphaxone’s atmospherics guiding you along. It’s never so creepy you wish to flee, abstract sounds tugging at your sense of curiosity as you exploring the unknown. It can leave you feeling isolated and vulnerable (holy cow, does Aftermath ever so), yet stronger of spirit for the journey taken. Just don’t leave the puzzle box lying about after.

Various - Almost Famous

DreamWorks Records: 2000

I didn’t care much for the movie Almost Famous. Shock, I know. How could a supposed amateur music critic like I not admire, adore, and even empathize with the story of a young rock journalist’s journey of self-discovery while on a road-trip assignment? Eh, I just don’t, not in the slightest. Though I cannot deny some allure in getting all those sweet backstage passes and being paid to hear live music, I’ve never had any aspirations for music journalism as a career. The whole profession reeks of brown-nosing hustle just to get by, to say nothing of how internet reporting has all but diminished any potential scribe’s worth to publishers. I write these little blurbs about CDs I own not for fame or fortune, but for… hmm, come to think of it, why am I even doing this? Isn’t insanity defined by doing repetitive things for no discernable benefit? Perhaps so, but this niggling OCD’s gotta’ sort itself somehow.

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter what my music blogging aspirations are, for it’s not like Almost Famous has anything to do with that. It’s an inciting incident to get director Cameron Crowe’s autobiographical stand-in, fifteen year old William Miller, on the road with Allman Brothers Band stand-in, Stillwater. The teenager bears witness to things happening during the early ‘70s rock star livin’, like singing, partying, bickering, sexing groupies in denial, and maybe a little clairvoyance along the way. Right, an impending plane crash does help to clear the air with everyone involved, but by the end of the movie, it seems no one’s really learned much from this whole tour. The band, on the verge of stardom, don’t seem destined for much beyond their ‘almost famous’ status regardless. Aside from Kate Hudson (because Character Arc), the groupies still cling to the band with the blinkered optimism being around potentially famous rock stars affords them. And lil’ William learns that, though the rock star lifestyle ain’t all what it’s cracked up to be, it’s still a vital, healing part of so many folks’ souls to outright dismiss it as horrible ‘Satan music’. Wait, maybe I’m thinking the movie Groove here.

Almost Famous is ultimately a movie with super-thick nostalgia shades for a specific era of rock music. It touches on a few of the less-favorable aspects, but not to such a degree that it’ll have Boomers questioning their love for that time. Appropriately, the music on the soundtrack features all the folky and rocker sorts that defined the ‘70s college radio waves. The Who, Simon & Garfunkel, Rod Stewart, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Led Zep’, Cat Stevens all make appearances, with surprising turns from Yes, Beach Boys, Elton John, and David Bowie. It’s a good collection of songs, mostly eschewing obvious hits for tunes that fit the sort of tone Crowe was filming: laidback and carefree as the wind blows, trying to ignore that nagging uncertainty of what all this means in the end, of what the future holds. Punk, mang, the answer is punk.

Sarah McLachlan - Afterglow

Nettwerk: 2003

Sarah McLachlan first came within range of my earholes way back, her oldie single Into The Fire on constant rotation over Vancouver’s radio waves. And why not, an undeniably catchy song that fed off the success of similar lady singer-songwriters of the era (Tori Amos, Sinéad O'Connor). Plus, what youthful teenage boy couldn’t help but be, erm, ‘intrigued’ by that video of Ms. McLachlan lounging about naked, covered in mud? And while I’m almost certain I heard Possession at some point too (aka: that “I’ll take your breath away” song), I didn’t give her much thought after Into The Fire, music bias against anything un-electronic dictating such youthful folly. Thus I must admit to embarrassing shock at not only learning she was still around when her ultra-mega successful Surfacing dropped, but was on the verge of becoming an industry juggernaut for female musicians. Grammys! Lilith Fair! Trance remixes! Well I’ll be darned.

After such unprecedented career fortune, Ms. McLachlan did what any humble gal from Nova Scotia would do: retreat from the spotlight for a while for some quality me-time. This wasn’t her first time doing so, ol’ Sarah taking a six-month sabbatical prior to working on Surfacing. After all the touring and fame that album wrought, damn straight she’d need another bought of recharging. This one lasted much longer though, in part due to a period of mourning after the loss of her mother, but also prepping for motherhood of her own. With all these factors in play, anticipation was high for this album. Could she meet and even surpass her song writing abilities so often exceeded throughout the ‘90s? Would she have new topics to write about, new perspectives on the way life had gone for her in the half-decade since international stardom? Might she incorporate any new production tricks, perhaps go more electronic in lieu of the popularity of all those remixes? The answer to all this is an irresistible “nah, guy.”

Afterglow is quite the apt title, the music here mostly calm and light. It all goes down easy, the sort of songs you’d hear on your adult contemporary station during the grind of work. Sarah doesn’t offer much in the way of fresh insights or innovative song craft, mostly relaying the sort of platitudes you’d expect of someone mostly content in their life. Tracks like Fallen, Stupid, and Train Wreck touch on feelings of loss, whereas Perfect Girl and Push offer messages with some hopeful outlooks. World On Fire hints at the troubles ailing a post-9/11 world, but that’s about as far outside Sarah’s comfort zone of relationship reflections we venture. Lyrically, all the songs on Afterglow are well-written and Sarah’s voice sounds as haunting as ever, but after such a long gap between albums, it’s no surprise folks came away from this tidy ten-tracker underwhelmed. Could it be Ms. McLachlan’s time in the sun had finally set?

I must “nah, guy” again, a surprising new career as an impossibly sad ASPCA spokeswoman beckoning.

Alphaxone - Absence Of Motion

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Alphaxone is one of a few aliases adorned by Mehdi Saleh, an Iranian making a tidy sum of his days releasing ambient music of various sorts. Initially it was as Spuntic, mostly releasing on long-running netlabel Enough Records. More recently he’s added Monolithic Cycle on Silent Flow and Inner Place on SUBWISE, but through it all is Alphaxone, essentially the dark ambient yang to the other projects’ more soothing yin. This alias bounced around a few digital prints, and looked set to find a permanent home with fast-growing Kalpamantra. Maybe Mr. Saleh felt his material was getting lost among the many, many releases on that label though, and thus found a new home with Cryo Chamber as they started their expansion. Makes sense, what with Simon Heath looking to nurture a cultivated roster rather than toss any and all submissions out and see what sticks. Plus, y’know, having your material on an actual physical medium couldn’t have been too shabby a deal maker either.

Absence Of Motion is the third Alphaxone album on Cryo Chamber, and seventh released in the past half-decade. If I can glean any sort of progress with Mr. Saleh’s project in this time, it’s been a gradual shift from dark, droning abstraction and bleak atmospherics of his earlier efforts, to looking outward and upward into spa-a-a-ace. Or, wait, his first album, Nucleus MS-106, has a close-up photo of the Moon, so is he making his way back to the cosmic source? Can’t say I’m that curious to find out, so let’s go with the Cryo Chamber narrative instead. Alphaxone came in with the dark and abstract, and is gradually expanding to the unending above and beyond. Something like that.

Mind, we’re not quite in the deep realms of the outer reaches. Even with track titles like Long Eternity, Space Continuum, and Celestial, there’s a sense we’re simply hovering in our planetary atmosphere, the wonders above forever out of reach despite our longing to explore. But remain stuck we are within our Inner Horizon, physically bound by the gravity of our X-Land, stranded, um, Close to home?

Okay, I’m extrapolating meaning out of this album based mostly on track titles and cover art, as the music within is mostly of the dark, droning sort with melancholic pads permeating the sparse tone throughout. And honestly, there isn’t that much difference between the nine tracks offered, Alphaxone not one to provide the sort of distinct narrative as Sabled Sun or other dark ambient sorts do. At most Absence Of Motion provides a suggestive hand for one reading, but this sort of ambience is quite open for interpretation. Or perhaps none at all, simply existing as mood music for its own sake without any specific need or wont for in-depth analysis. Can I help it if I’m getting into this stuff because of my brain’s unyielding need for canvas painting via sounds, harmonies, and timbre? No, I cannot, which is why I splurged on Cryo Chamber’s back catalog, y’dig?

System 7 - 777

Big Life: 1993

The briefly-lost System 7 album, if you were an American fan of the duo. Having named it 777, when they had already utilized the three-digits as their alias and self-titled debut within the U.S. (legal issues), poor Caroline Records couldn’t have been happy. What, name it 777²? Maybe so, but it probably wasn’t worth it to Caroline.

First they’d have to renegotiate distribution with another label, System 7 having left 10 Records and all. 777 was essentially self-released by System 7 by way of their own Weird And Unconventional Records, a brief offshoot of Big Life who’d served as an outlet for the likes of Yazz, Coldcut, and Drum Club. If Caroline eventually settled on a new deal with Weird And Unconventional, System 7 had already settled in with another Big Life sub-label, Butterfly Records, by which point the Point 3 series had hit shelves. So Caroline gave up on System 7 (re: 777), but that didn’t stop another label from grabbing the rights to 777 (re: System 7) distribution, Astralwerks! Only they didn’t care about 777 either (re: the Big Life record), as the Point 3 series was getting most of the critical kudos at the time. They released that as the double-CD System 7.3, leaving 777 an import curiosity for System 7 fans. That is, until good ol’ Hypnotic, seeing a popular European act’s LP with no American distribution to its name, snagged up the album for a 1998 release. But hey, at least by that point they could use the System 7 band name again!

My GOD, does Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy ever have a convoluted history with distribution. No wonder they went proper independent with A-Wave after the turn of the century. As for why they left 10 Records in the first place, I haven’t a clue, but considering how their debut had a rather radio-friendly slant running throughout, and this one most definitely does not, I can only speculate. And I shall! See, 10 Records was a sub-label of Virgin, and though the print nurtured a few leftfield acts, System 7 strikes me as the sort of album aimed for a little UK dance chart action. In that regard, it utterly failed, earning none of the sales The Orb garnered, even with Mr. Doctor Alex Paterson on hand. But some good came of it too, getting chummy with techno legend Derrick May for the lasting standout tracks from that album.

Hillage and Giraudy must have felt something good from that too, because 777 is quite techno throughout. Hell, A Cool Dry Place with The Orb is practically Hawtin-level minimal, though with plenty o’ spacey guitar wails giving it a distinct tranced-out vibe. Meanwhile, 7:7 Expansion’s a fun proto-goa tune with Tony Thorpe and Youth, and the back-end goes deep in the floating ambient dub. There’s still a sense of System 7 figuring things out with their sound, but as a collection of hippie techno-trance, 777’s pretty good for the year from whence it came.

Sublime - 40oz. To Freedom

Skunk Records/Gasoline Alley Records: 1992/1996

Practically the sole reason we get to hear Smash Mouth covers in kid’s movies now, these guys. Maybe the So-Cal ska scene would have pounded the late ‘90s pop charts regardless, bands like No Doubt and Sugar Ray inevitable. When folks namedrop their (admittedly small) lists of Very Important American Ska Bands though, Sublime is almost always at the top, regional legends that inspired many groups to fuse their own offerings of punk and reggae without a care in the world. By the time wider North America was ready to fully hop on the Sublime paddy-van though, lead singer and guitarist Brad Nowell had sadly succumbed to his struggles with heroin, effectively putting an end to the group. Right as they broke through the mainstream with the single What I Got. Right as the ska scene was set to capitalize as it never had before or since. That takes some serious heart and personal ethics for members Bud Gaugh and Eric Wilson, disbanding the band in respect for their fallen comrade. Besides, they could still make bank on their small back-catalog anyway.

Even though ska was barely an afterthought of popularity in the early ‘90s, it’s easy to hear why Sublime caught on the way they did. The band could effortlessly switch between reggae offshoots and thrash punk, sometimes even within the same song. Throw in nods to hip-hop along the way, and you’ve a sound that’s never pigeon-holed into any specific scene, yet remains appealing to fans of either genre. Sealing it though, was Sublime’s heavy emphasis on detailing all the carefree, irresponsible down-in-the-dumps aspects of lower-class life in Southern California. Wiling the days away getting stoned, getting drunk, hooking up and miserably breaking up, wandering from house party to trailer party to skate park party to gig party, yet all with a sunny disposition as only ska music can provide. These guys may be on the skids, but damn if they don’t sound like it’s a fun time being there. Hell, this debut album of theirs was practically all recorded by breaking into a studio in its off hours, only adding to the reckless living allure many a skater, pothead, and general teenager of the ‘90s gave ‘em.

As a debut, 40oz. To Freedom is an incredibly strong album, giving us a taste of the Sublime stylee in spades. Ska! Reggae! Punk! Hip-Hop! Blues? Koom-baya sing-along’s? Whatever, this was the soundtrack to many a house party across the Western seaboard, steadily gaining popularity as everyone who came within earshot had to get a copy for themselves (and their own house parties), seeing several re-issues along the way. Once MCA picked the band up for wider distribution, a few tracks and samples were removed due to copyright claims, and it became a point of pride if you could boast having an original ’92 version in your hands. Being down with Sublime before anyone knew of them and all. I, ah, don’t have such a copy. I t’was no skater.

EDM Weekly World News, April 2016

First Ish' showed me a picture of some silly DJ at Ultra. Then I stumbled upon an unrelated article providing me with details of his stage name. Then we discovered the sort of music he plays ('weeaboo trap'? ...*sigh*). And now, thanks to some expertly experted journalistic expertise, we've possibly unearthed the answer to the question everyone's been asking since this strange individual emerged on the scene: who is DJ Kid Diddler!?



Other possibilities are Stupid Sexy DJ Ned Flanders, and DJ John Galt.

Various - Time Warp Compilation 07: Loco Dice (Original TC Review)

Time Warp: 2007

(2016 Update:
I didn't talk much about Loco Dice in this review, beyond the music he selected and mixed on disc. We're nearly a decade on though, and plenty's gone down in Yassine's career in that time. He continued rising in the ranks of trendy DJ circles, established his own print in Desolat, and has maintained his presence and brand in all corners of minimal and tech-house circuits. Great for when the sound was the hottest shit on the market, but it's since substantially receded, and Loco Dice's stock has... pretty much stayed right where it's always been. Never at the very top of his scene, but still popular enough that any talk of falling off is absurd. Of course, a bunch of cooler music has overtaken minimal as the fresh hotness, but Dice's brand is much too entrenched to go quietly in the night. He's here for the long haul, with whatever great or bleak expectations you expect of the chap and this sound.

As for this Time Warp set, jay-zeus was it ever a slog to trudge through again. The first disc has a nice dub groove going for a while, but is so mind-sapping repetitive I flake out on it midway. CD2, meanwhile, is engaging throughout for curiosity of whether the plonk-donk-bleh sounds can go anymore absurd. Oh indeed they can, brah'. We pretty much gave up trying to 'get' minimal after this at TranceCritic.)


IN BRIEF: Neo-chill.

The Time Warp festival in Germany is a fairly big deal. No, really it is! It’s been around for over a decade and often secures top DJ talent like Sven Väth, Carl Cox, Speedy J, Paul van Dyk, Adam Beyer, DJ Hell, Laurent Garnier, Richie Hawtin, and so on. In recent years, it’s even gone on to become as much a media arts festival as a musical one.

Still, there are a great number of folks who aren’t aware of it. This is mostly due to the fact Time Warp isn’t your typical electronic music gathering. Firstly, as most of those listed DJs will hint at, techno tends to be the focus. A few other genres are invited, of course, but this is a festival with phrases like ‘pushing the boundaries of musical innovation’ and ‘showcasing forward-thinking arts’ are gospel. Fortunately, the air doesn’t suffocate with hipster pretentiousness but Time Warp certainly doesn’t have the mainstream in mind when they promote themselves.

Anyhow, like any good festival, Time Warp provides a yearly DJ mix for folks to either remember it by or find out what they may have missed. A noticeable path towards the minimal sounds of techno has become apparent over the years and, perhaps predictably, 2007's edition has taken the full plunge. The man behind the sequencing this time out is none other than possibly one of biggest rising names in the minimal scene: Loco Dice.

I think the main thing you need to be aware of with Time Warp ‘07 is this isn’t much of a mainroom release. Sure, minimal has promoted itself as such in recent years, especially ever since most reputable magazine gave the music their official blessing. However, even though you’ll see many minimal acts headline now, this music is still primarily focused on subtlety and nuances, atmosphere and soundscapes; euphoric melodies or pummeling rhythms need not apply. Essentially, minimal is to techno what deep house is to, um, house.

Loco Dice is given two discs to work with here, each with slightly differing tone. The first is more atmospheric, with dubby sounds and the odd synth wave rolling through. Meanwhile, disc two takes us deeper into the murk, with a few token nods to the naughtier side of techno as well. His mixing is silky smooth, with transitions so unnoticeable, you’d think it was the same track playing for long stretches at a time. Actually, that’s part of the problem with this release.

Yes, it is all finely crafted. Yes, there are some nice sounds to be heard. And yes, Loco Dice does do minimal justice. However, this set is seriously flatlined from the start. It never builds any tension, it never leads to different ideas, and a lot of these tracks sound so damned similar to each other. A few of them are even separated by nearly a decade but you wouldn’t be able to tell unless you were familiar with the tunes. It either goes to show how groundbreaking Basic Channel (as Round Two here) was, or how lacking in new ideas the whole genre is. Since I’m not that cynical, I’ll go with the former in this case, but it still doesn’t help the fundamental problem with Loco Dice’s mix.

Which is this: anytime he lays down a track that could shift the set somewhere, the follow-up always brings you back to status quo. There are plenty of examples littered throughout, but probably most obvious is the way he ends Disc 1. The final track is from James Pennington’s Suburban Knight, a welcomed deviation of ice-cool electro breaks from the steady stream of soft beats the first disc was filled with. In most cases, a DJ will use the final track as a lead-off point to set the tone of the second disc. Not here though. Instead, we’re right back to square one with Jambi’s Lunar Park Blues, a track that could have just as easily fit into the beginning of Disc 1. And things again don’t differ much until the final track of CD2 either. Dice almost seems afraid to shake things up, lest he lose his hipster audience.

I’m sure there are a legion of minimal fans out there who’d argue there are massive differences between the tracks, yet their idea of a ‘choon’ moment is when the next song has a crisper hand-clap. But yes, there are good tracks scattered about: DJ Emerson’s paranoid Ring My Bell; Plastikman’s space acid Glob; the relatively funky Berlin Has No Cows from Serafin. And even if sonic surprises are few, Loco Dice’s mix does maintain its mood throughout, which at the least does make this release pleasing to throw on as background music.

The casual consumer should still be cautious with this release though. Minimal hasn’t always been the friendliest of genres to dive into but at least the likes of Richie Hawtin have made it somewhat inviting. However, Loco Dice isn’t quite as interested in appealing to such folk. This are minimal set for minimal fans who like their beats unassuming and their melodies subtle puzzles.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2007. © All rights reserved.

B.G. The Prince Of Rap - The Time Is Now

Epic: 1994

As he was teaming up with DJ Dag and Mark Spoon to help invent some little genre known as trance, Jam El Mar also spent time getting in on that European hip-house action that Technotronic made all the rage. Heck, if Lord Discogs is anything to go by, his first production with Bernard Greene on Rap To The World beats out Dance 2 Trance’s We Came In Peace by at least a few months. And while the latter is hailed as a Very Important Record in the annals of trance, it by no means had the immediate success Rap To The World did. Eventually his work with Dag and Spoon would eclipse anything he did with B.G., but in the early going of his ‘techno’ career, Mr. Ellmer had himself a chart star with The Prince Of Rap. All the better for making that cash-money to fund his underground projects, yo’.

Fast forward a few years, and though trance has taken off in Germany, euro-dance took off bigger, and ol’ Jam and B.G. knew they had the foundation to capitalize on a scene that gave us Mr. Vain, Rhythm Is A Dancer, and Get-A-Way. Still, name recognition only takes you so far when dozens of new acts with hit singles are continuously shoved into clubs and radio. Perhaps they suspected a little extra oomph to stand out from the glut was needed, thus bringing in one Stefan Benz to the party. Mr. Benz had been making italo disco since the late ‘80s, moving onto euro-dance as many producers of that era did, even scoring another successful act in DJ Company. Then he went onto cheese-ball hard trance and ‘hands-up’ stuff through the ‘00s, but who cares about that.

Nay, let’s remain focused on The Time Is Now, and the three big tunes off here. Though none of them did as much action on the charts as This Beat Is Hot, Colour Of My Dreams did the best amount of damage, hitting top fifteen in Germany, and even scoring number one on Canada’s dance charts. It’s got the smooth rap from B.G., a catchy chorus from Paris Red (who did the bulk of vocals on the album), and punchy synth hooks. Better is Can’t Love You, especially as Jam El Mar’s vintage, buzzing sawwave synths drive this tune throughout. Can We Get Enough? was the lead single, something of a rough bridge between The Prince Of Rap’s earlier hip-house into euro-dance fare (that bass!). All are mint tunes of euro-dance’s peak years.

The rest of The Time Is Now is practically all filler though. Decent enough if you’re a hardcore collector of this stuff, but hardly essential material twenty-plus years on. Well, except for the curious two final tracks, actual hip-hop cuts, including a posse jam in This Is How We Do It. Guess the Prince Of Rap needed to remind everyone of his American roots. He sure didn’t have much chance to show off his lyricism on anything else here.

Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day

Def Jam Recordings: 1998

A four year gap isn’t that much, all things considered. ‘90s hip-hop though, things were moving fast, stars rising and falling at an unprecedented rate, fueled by an MC arms race to the top of Mount Brag-N-Swagmore. Your label could only achieve immortal greatness if you had the best talent signed to your print. Death Row had 2Pac, Bad Boy had Biggie, No Limit had Snoop Dogg, Loud had Wu-Tang Clan, and so on. Def Jam had many legends to their name too, but most of them had established careers, showing little of the spit and fire needed that propelled the emergent labels of the ‘90s to the top. As a quick signee to Def Jam after the smashing success of Wu-Tang’s debut, Method Man looked to be the breakout star of the group, one that would usher in a new generation of hungry MCs for the storied print that Rick Rubin built.

One problem though: Mr. Clifford Smith wasn’t interested in being a solo star, completely content sharing the spotlight as part of a back-n-forth (Redman, Street Life) or a crew of equally charismatic rappers (Wu-Tang, Monstars, heh). All fine and well if one’s career aspirations stay humble, but when everyone from the fans on the streets to the CEOs in the record label towers demand more, four years turns to an agonizing wait, one the Ticallion Stallion gleefully mocks in Tical 2000 through a series of phone call skits. People ranging from accountants to radio DJs to even the tribble-cultivator Trump himself all chime in wondering what the bloodclot is taking Meth’ so long with this album.

Figuring out a theme would be my guess. Of course the nearing millennium would spark some inspiration, but aside from the opening and closing tracks (Perfect World and Judgement Day), it’s not a subject touched upon. Instead, Johnny Blaze runs the gamut of witty wordplay, sexy wordplay, thug life wordplay, club don’ wordplay, and that’s about it. Hey, it’s not like the subject matter in his lyrics have mattered much of a damn - Method Man could have excelled through sheer charisma alone, his deft skills on the mic’ keeping you hooked once reeled in.

Unfortunately, even that isn’t enough to save Tical 2000 from the sin of filler. Despite folks clamoring for more Method Man, most everyone agrees there’s too much bloat given the limited amount of topics covered. No matter how solid the beats are or how hype the guest spots are (seriously, I’ve never heard Street Life sound this good!), it all turns to repetitive mush in the back-half. It probably doesn’t help that the midpoint offers a hilarious Chris Rock skit, where the comedian goes on a never ending spree of Method Man aliases that cannot be stopped by gunshot, nor rabid dogs, nor rabid dolphins. Hell, he can’t even be killed by fire, and even The Thing could be killed by fire. After a high such as that, there’s only down to go.