Pantera - The Great Southern Trendkill

EastWest Records: 1996

Overlooked? Bypassed? Forgotten? Not words I’d assign to Pantera’s eighth fourth album, but it doesn’t surprise me that The Great Southern Trendkill is sometimes deemed as such. It’s coming off a streak of critically-hailed, genre-defining LPs, the sort of peak few metal bands ever achieve in such a short period of time, much less maintain for a lengthy career. And Pantera had been in the game for well over a decade at this point, noticeable cracks forming from the stresses of so much success. Singer/growler Phill Anselmo was growing erratic during their live shows, rising tensions with the other band members to such a degree they had to record in separate studios. Also, thrash metal in general was on a downslide by the mid-‘90s, much of the old guard unable to keep pace as younger upstarts like Korn were taking metal down different roads. Pantera had proved incredibly adaptable though, and The Great Southern Trendkill was as good a point to reaffirm their place in metal’s domain. I’d say they succeeded, impressions of the time be damned.

What works in this album’s favor is Pantera’s willingness to mix things up again, to go acoustic and mellow more often. That doesn’t stop them from getting all out aggro though, the opening titular cut as vicious an assault of thrash as any metal committed to disc - mid-track, they get back to the groove jam with a kick-ass Dimebag solo that’s oh-so delicious. There’s nary a weak cut following it either, tunes capably mixing between funky rhythmic rock (Drag The Waters), sludgy blues odes (10’s), and heavy thrash stompers (13 Steps To Nowhere). I’m also surprised that Anselmo did his recordings in a totally different studio than the rest of Pantera, because he sounds just as locked in as ever. No matter his issues outside music, guy could still deliver when called upon.

Things get quite interesting in the second half, where Pantera show some new tricks in the crafting of an album. Suicide Note is presented in two parts, the first an acoustic country-blues ballad which was sure to throw fans of Vulgar Display Of Power quite for a loop. As Part 1 ends on something of a cinematic note, Part 2 erupts with as much ferocity as Pantera has ever shown. Definitely among the best one-two punches in Pantera history.

Great Southern Trendkill mostly ends on a run of thrash, with a detour to the epic metal of Floods, something of a return in tone to Cemetery Gates. It has the acoustic passages, groove metal portions, and a lovely solo at the end that fades out into the heavy monster riffs of The Underground Of America. Floods is a good tune, but it seems Anselmo had to try his voice at the ‘grunge warble’, sounding off to my ears. Stick to the southern drawl, yo’.

Still, Great Southern Trendkill ends Pantera’s ‘90s run strong, an emphatic exclamation mark. Tragic so much of their story fell apart after.

Various - Garden State (Music From The Motion Picture)

Epic: 2004

I don’t know anything about this movie. I think I recall the title from somewhere, but no details about Garden State sparks the recollection synapses. Who the stars were, the director was, the plot, not even the year it was released. Just based on the tracklist, I assume it came out early 2000s, what with names like Coldplay, Zero 7, and Thievery Corporation included. The cover has me thinking it’s about a group of young adults doing something quirky in the hopes of giving their meaningless lives meaning. Or maybe they’re trying to take a stand against the man in a Surrey New Jersey park? Guessing the former though – seems to be a running theme with all these soundtracks lately.

I could pop over to Deity IMDB for a little knowledge-drop regarding Garden State, but where’s the fun in that? It’d only lead to another bog-standard soundtrack review: giving a plot synopsis, what I think of it, and hastily going over the actual music before self-imposed word count runs out. Nah, how about I instead give the CD a once-over, make an assumed guess of what Garden State’s about, then see if Deity IMDB proves how accurate I was. Yeah, let’s do that.

Coldplay’s Don’t Panic opens things up. I wouldn’t say this is Coldplay at their Coldplayiest, because that’s just a lazy, cliché way of describing a Coldplay song, no matter how apt. Two tracks from The Shins crop up early, who I do remember being rather big on the indie scene; wouldn’t surprise me if this movie helped. A whole lot of ultra-soft rock and Americana folk make their way in, including Nick Drake’s One Of These Things First, which I remember most for a commercial (I think?). Whoa, Colin Hay, the lead singer Men At Work, had a solo career too? I’ll be darned. Simon & Garfunkel are also here, absolutely, always a solid option for a ‘coming of age’ movie. All these sensitive acoustic musicians make Thievery Corporation’s Lebanese Blonde stand out like an ethnic-flavored thumb, and I’ve no idea how it fits within this movie’s context. Most of these songs have me picturing the cast laying about cuddling on couches, looking out rainy windows, strolling through saturated neighborhoods, and involving themselves in deep, philosophical questions about what it means to be a young adult in the new millennium. Works for Zero 7 and Frou Frou (re: Imogen Heap), but the Thievery Corps.?

Anyhow, let’s see what Garden State’s really about. *clickity-clickity-clack* Ah, hmm, it’s a Zach Braff vehicle (aka: that guy from Scrubs). Wow, passion project, more like. I wasn’t too far off in my plot assumptions either; also is a movie where the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope got its legs. No wonder the music felt chipper, yet also a tad mopey and insufferable. Natalie Portman’s in this, as is Ian Holm and… Method Man?? Wait, you got yourself a Wu-Tang member, and didn’t have any Wu joints in your score? Poor form, Zach.

Ugasanie - Eye Of Tunguska

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Is there any landmass more inhospitable and devoid of humanity than the Siberian plateau? Right, Antarctica, but the polar continent has an allure, a challenge for the human spirit; a realm where you can see unique fauna and frozen wastes unlike anywhere else on the planet. What does Siberia have? Dense woods, peat bogs, brutal winters, and more bugs than all the grains of sand in the world, the region a nearly impenetrable fortress of human misery. A perfect place for sending your criminals and prisoners, but horrible for the tourist industry.

There’s one area, however, that’s captured the imagination of astronomers, speculators, theorists, and artists, known for an event that was as catastrophic as it was mysterious. All the early expeditions were able to find at ground zero were thousands upon thousands of blasted, dead trees, some still standing but charred to a cinder. With no signs of a crater, science guessed it was caused by an exploding chunk of space rock or ice, one that detonated before it even impacted upon the ground. But surely something that explosive would have left an impact mark, the world thought. Given that the Tunguska region was remote even by Siberian standards though, very few expeditions followed-up on the event.

As such, the Tunguska Event entered contemporary speculative fiction lore, a sci-fi trope probably only outrivaled by Roswell. Many an author, comic, TV show, and video game dealing with aliens references it, a tantalizing region to hang a conspiracy theory on. What better, isolated area for governments and E.T.s to convene than this, plotting world control and humanity misery? Right, Antarctica again.

Some musicians have also namedropped Tunguska, including Tomita, Alan Parsons, Cymbals Eat Guitars, and a few metal bands too. This here Ugasanie, whose brand of dark ambient typically focuses on the furthest regions of European hinterlands, would naturally have his say in Siberian folklore. Rather than rehashing the same ol’ event though, Eye Of Tunguska instead recounts a smaller, intimate occurrence, involving a group of hiking students eager to see the epicenter. Losing their way as you do in the middle of literal nowhere, they were never heard from again, their bodies eventually recovered at a nearby abandoned geological station, mutilated and covered with radiation burns. Wait, is this fiction, or did this really happen? If so, day-um…

The album’s essentially a dark ambient score to the story, each track another chapter (The Taiga, Lonely Winter Hut, The Phenomenon, Last Night, Attempt To Contact, The Bodies Under The Snow, and so on). Sounds mostly consist of eerie tones, desolate drone, and sparse field recordings, all with a sci-fi undercurrent of nervous curiosity and tense exploration. Even with a concrete plot as a backbone, Ugasanie leaves his tracks plenty open to interpretation in what’s unfolding, making Eye Of Tunguska the sort of CD that demands one’s full attention for the best results. If you’re willing to take this trip to Tunguska, anyway. Antarctica don’t look so bad now.

Various - Empire Records: The Soundtrack

A&M Records: 1995

A ‘90s movie centered on the exploits of a record store seemingly run by teenagers? Pft, pass. Hackers was my regrettable tackle at Gen-X culture, though if Empire Records’ soundtrack had focused on techno instead of alternative rock, maybe I’d have paid it attention. Look, my dedication to electronic music was unshakable, ain’t no way Teenage Sykonee would sway to the sounds his younger sister indulged in. Ooh, wait, sis’, can I borrow that Beastie Boys Ill Communication CD inexplicably in your collection? I need Sabotage for a mixtape.

No, I didn’t get this soundtrack from her (she did have it though). This comes from another lady of comparable age, and it seems several grown gals have a thing for Empire Records. It’s gotta’ be because of Liv Tyler on the cover, wearing that impossibly cute, navel-exposing blue fuzz sweater and plaid mini-skirt, holding back with authori-tah a rag-tag group of peers, co-workers, besties and frienemies. The Ethan Hawke-hot sensitive friend, the promiscuous blonde, the Pauly Shore quirky guy, the nihilistic authentic Gen-X philosopher, the kinda’ gothic depressive. Mmm… Robin Tunney, with or without shaved head…

I get the sense folks remember Empire Records for what they think the movie represents (alas, their youth!), rather than what actually happens in the movie. Because not a whole lot happens in the movie, and most of what does happen is so filled with stock teenage-lite comedy situations and tropes, you could plunk these characters and plot into any setting and it’d tell the same story. A video store, a restaurant, a civic centre, an arcade, wherever it is teenagers go for employed hang-outs now. The angle of a record store is wholly wasted, no one giving insight into the retail music industry or tunes they’re playing and supposedly enjoying. Not that it’s the fault of the scriptwriter or actors, Empire Records striking me as the sort of movie studio-meddled to make it as appealing to the broad teenage demographic as possible. Heck, the soundtrack probably wasn’t even finalized before shooting began, so how could there be any dialog regarding these Gen-X jams of the day?

Even the collection of tunes is lackluster as a cultural touchstone. Some notable markers do make the cut, like The Cranberries, Gin Blossoms, Better Than Ezra, and Toad The Wet Sprocket. Edwyn Collins’ A Girl Like You was a memorable hit at the time (so Bowie!), while it’s hard to forget the movie-climax performance of cast member Coyote Shivers’ Sugarhigh. With a surefire teen hit on their hands (*cough*), A&M Records hoped Empire Records would expose some of their obscure acts (Drill, Lustre, Ape Hangers, Innocence Mission). Much of it sounds like stock alternative rock, punk, and folk of the mid-’90s to my ears, with many of these bands not doing anything beyond the era (so sayeth The Discogs). But hey, nostalgia for even the blandest of ‘90s paraphernalia can get you vinyl reissues these days. Do they have the Liv Tyler ensemble at Hot Topic too?

The White Stripes - Elephant

V2: 2003

The White Stripes are the greatest rock band of the last twenty years, if you were to ask any long-time follower of that scene. Like, I’m talking long-time, since at least the late ‘60s. In one fell swoop, Jack and Meg obliterated any and all developments, nuances, dalliances, diversion, explorations, and permutations of rock music, bringing the scene back to its simple, garage roots. More punk than punk, more blues than grunge; punting the pretentions of prog, nuking the new wave for some old wave. Um, making metal mobsolete? Help me out here, guys and gals.

Mr. & Ms. White weren’t the only musicians making garage rock, but they were the first to connect with that all-important “yoof” demographic, breaking out of obscurity with a flurry of memorable videos on MTV (and almost single-handily making Lego cool again). Soon after, all manner of garage rock bands entered the airwaves. With a quickly crowding scene, however, come increased demands and expectations on the perceived leaders, to prove they deserve their perch upon the podium of classic rock’s saviors. Whether by circumstance or design, Elephant was destined to be The White Stripes’ Statement Album. They were no longer the plucky upstarts out of Detroit, but a force the world of old rock was hanging their hopes on. Plus, y’know, no pressure from signing on a major label, one offering a vinyl roll-out when the format was practically toast. Nope, no pressure at all. Good thing Jack White’s obsessive enough of an artist to get the job done, then.

Yeah, they smashed it out of the park, Elephant earning all the plaudits, praise, and rock awards. And though it couldn’t sustain the garage rock mini-revolution for much longer (folks getting all up in that Coldplay shi’…), the album’s held up greatly, thanks in huge part to the raw, unvarnished quality the Stripes deliberately utilized. The liner notes proudly proclaims no computers were used in the production, with only vintage analogue gear for the recording process and self-imposed time-frame for studio sessions (ten days!). They wanted this sounding as authentic to the garage bands of the mid-‘60s as possible post-millennium, and damn if they didn’t succeed. Fortunately, they also gave the tracks plenty of heft, such that the raw, grainy distortion and thumping drum kits are rich and full, nothing over-compressed and flat; timeless, and all that. Take that, Red Hot Chili Peppers!

Seven Nation Army was the big hit off here, but I’ve been rather blasé about it all these years. Too monotonous throughout, y’see, though definitely kick-ass lyrics. Nah, I prefer these Stripes when they just rock the f’ out (Black Math; Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine; Hypnotize), or get right-proper blues heavy and sludgy (There’s No Home For You Here; Ball And Biscuit; I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself). And dammit, the acoustic jam with Holly Golightly at the end is just too adorable, in spite of the depressing topic. Country in a nutshell, eh?

Lorenzo Montanà - Eilatix

Psychonavigation Records: 2013/2015

Mr. Montanà was pretty set with Fax +49-69/450464: a couple of albums, nearly a half-dozen collaborations with label head Pete Namlook. Guy could probably have rode his entire career with the seminal print had it not been for Mr. Kuhlmann’s unfortunate untimely death. With no other choice but to shutter their doors, Fax+’s closing left ol’ Lorenzo temporarily homeless. There were undoubtedly several options and opportunities for the Italian producer to find another label, but perhaps he sensed proper kinship with this plucky, off-the-radar print out of Dublin, Ireland. One that took direct inspiration from Namlook’s work in their chosen name, and even had a fondness for the Fax+ sounds of old, often leaning retro with their ambient techno. Besides, it’d be another year before the true Fax +49-69/450464 successors launched (Carpe Sonum Records). May as well make a bed with these Psychonavigation guys, see how things turn out.

None too shabby, now three albums deep for Keith Downey’s print. They must have been more popular than anticipated too, what with only being released as limited CDr and all. Like, I know Mr. Montanà came from Fax+, but that doesn’t mean you must honor Namlook’s strict limitation runs as well. Right, small label, CDs aren’t as popular, etc. Fortunately there was enough interest in Lorenzo’s earlier contributions to Psychonavigation that a reissue was inevitable. And wouldn’t you know it, Mr. Montanà had just released his third LP for the label, so why not bundle them all together for a spiffy 3CD pack titled Trilogy? Making things simple for all the new comers and late adopters, now don’t it? (*cough*)

Eilatix was the first of these albums, and just so happens to be first alphabetically too. Don’t you just love it when things coincidentally align as the planets and stars do on a cool summer eve? No, this simile is applicable, because the music within is very brisk and chill, minimal ambient acid and dub techno for nights out under a full moon, lounging in a lawn chair huddled within a dew-speckled blanket, the sparkle of distant suns glimmering in your eyes. Wow, did I get carried away with this descriptor. Eilatix isn’t that evocative.

The album was billed as a follow-up to Lorenzo’s work with Namlook, so I’m assuming its referencing the Labyrinth series, which I’ve never heard. However, without that frame of reference, I actually came into Eilatix figuring this a follow-up to Mr. Montanà’s solo work on Fax+, Serpe, and I cannot deny some feelings of disappointment. There was a significant leap in crafstmanship between his first two albums, while this feels like a regression of sorts, less about pushing his boundaries in favor of a simple, modest album, ears fixated on the era of early Apollo and HIA. It works in that regard, but man, just when things are warming up and getting good, Eilatix ends, Temporary Light a big tease to what could have been. Still, quite pleasant as background music. Play it during your stargazing ventures.

Dronny Darko & protoU - Earth Songs

Cryo Chamber: 2015

I find dark ambient’s at its best when it provides a narrative, a musical sequence of mood, atmosphere and tone akin to an audio novel or documentary. Okay, so I think all music is best served as such, but this genre seems tailor-made for it. Catchy earworms? Shuffle-tastic beats? Sing-along lyrics? Get out of here with such foolish diversions, we’ve a tale to tell, and have no need of dance numbers and staged musical distractions. Not when there’s outworld realms to explore, frigid tundra to trek, sojourns of the psyche to survey, occult rituals to observe, and ruined societies to unearth. Or, in the case of this collaboration between Dronny Darko and protoU, telling nothing less than the entire history of the universe! Talk of ambition.

I’m not even kidding. Earth Songs contains seven tracks, each demarcated by an approximate date of setting within this narrative. The opener is Explosion (13.8 billion years ago), because if your scope is all of Earth’s existence, you may as well start at the beginning of everything. No planet, no congealed mass of space rocks and dust orbiting a hot, young star, not even a molecular cloud or stellar nursery drifting in a galaxy. We’re at a time when the very elements of the cosmos were still being crafted, the building blocks of all that we see and interact with finding its form. The music, such as it is, sounds rather like the droning ambience of a science show describing such a scene, or the weird landforms that Dave Bowman flew over after the trippy light show was done.

Since nothing much else happens in the development of Earth for a very, very long time, track two time-jumps some ten-billion years to Life Beneath The Surface (3.8 billion years ago). Not only do we now have a planet, but stirrings of cognizant chemical reactions too! In something of a departure from Cryo Chamber’s typical bleak drone, this track is rather calm and soothing, ambient in its more traditional sense. It paints a promising, humble beginning for these songs of Earth, of unlimited potential. What’s with those sounds of footsteps though? Is some future explorer actually present? Aliens? Also, I’m not sure how scientifically accurate Darko and ‘U are being, considering next track, Riparian Forest (300 million years ago), has samples of song birds. I’m almost certain such animals didn’t exist that far back.

Desolate, ash-strewn Extinction (66 million years ago) is self-explanatory, almost a requisite track in this sort of album. Shortly after (astronomically speaking), we have Primate (50 million years ago), a bit more melodic and hopeful in tone, though definitely with an ominous edge to it. Something must have happened along the way, for we have Singularity (2045 AD) next, followed upon by Leaving Earth (2135 AD), as bleak of sci-fi drone as you’ll likely hear that’s not on a Sabled Sun album. Wait…, 2135… 2145… Oh my God, Earth Songs just might be a Sabled Sun prequel! (probably not)

Bone Thugs-N-Harmony - E. 1999 Eternal

Ruthless Records: 1995/1998

The only Bone Thugs-N-Harmony album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Bone Thugs-N-Harmony fan. Took me damn long enough to get it too! You’d think, after relaunching this blog with all that Bone Thugs love that E. 1999 Eternal was already been in my collection. Nope, though I did intend to pick it up shortly after getting that Creepin On A Come Up EP. Made sense considering how much I talked up the Cleveland crew’s debut LP and all. Not sure what happened though. I do recall getting side-tracked by hip-hop from Ice Cube and Public Enemy in the ensuing year, not to mention music funds being put towards a few “DJ Mix Series On A Budget” projects. Then there was another Waveform Records splurge, a Juno Reactor splurge, filling a few blanks from Wu-Tang Clan, an indulgence in Nine Inch Nails… wow, Lord Discogs sure is great at chronologically chronicling one’s buying habits!

Whatever the case, I finally done did get me some E. 1999 Eternal (because going back to playlist those early Ace Tracks reminded me as such), and I feel like such a tool for holding out this long for it. Right, I already know the hits off here practically beat for rap, so ingrained in mid-‘90s airplay they are. Tha Crossroads was the big one of course, and undoubtedly the sole reason many grabbed this album. Interestingly, the original version was quickly replaced by the more popular Dj U-Neek’s Mo Thug Remix that was featured on the classic Grammy nominated video. Their reflective, harmonious vibe is what many came to associate with the group, including yours truly when hearing tracks like 1st Of Tha Month and weed odes like Budsmokers Only and Buddah Lovaz. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of their heavier, thuggish ruggish mould, but it wasn’t the sound getting the radio (re: school dance) play or video rotation on MuchMusic. This album though, damn is it ever a heavy one.

The success of Tha Crossroads belies the fact Bone Thugs-N-Harmony cultivated an underground image of gritty, ultraviolent gangsta menace with a taste of the occult. Their world wasn’t just harrowing tales of the ghetto, but one also tempted further within the darkside of life, relying on spirits and demons for guidance in their lives. The contrast of rapid-fire double-time raps with harmonic soul is like hearing the angel and demon on your shoulders, though in the case of E. 1999 Eternal, the sinister tone of the music suggests all their sins are winning out. Down ’71 (The Getaway), Land Of The Heartless, Die Die Die, Eternal, and Mo’ Murda.. . all gripping street narratives with solid beats, chorus-chants, and ominous sounds, never sacrificing intensity for the chance at a little chart action. It was probably all a bit much for those expecting more Crossroads within, but that didn’t stop Bone Thugs from aspirations of rap dominance from here on out. For more ill than good, unfortunately.

Council Of Nine - Diagnosis

Cryo Chamber: 2015

So this Council Of Nine fellah, Mr. Maximillian Olivier, what’s his story? I spent a good chunk of the last review of his material going on about Greek stuff, and almost none detailing his backstory. While I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to get my mythology wank on, there’s a practical reason too: Council Of Nine is about as much a mystery as the governing body behind the contemporary Council Of Nine.

Unlike others of Cryo Chamber’s roster, Max’ got his start in-house, first contributing to the 2014 artist showcase Tomb Of Empires. Shortly after in 2015, he released Dakhma, and later the same year, provides us with Diagnosis. Lord Discogs lists no further entries, not even self-released material in the elsewheres of the Internet. Even his Facebook page seems more intent on reposting Cryo Chamber promotions than anything favoring himself. Makes sense if he’s got close ties with Simon Heath’s print, which I suspect he does given Mr. Olivier comes from the valley of the Redwoods near Cryo headquarters. Cannot deny though, because of this sparse info, I briefly thought this was Simon Heath under another pseudonym. But no, that wouldn’t make sense - I’m sure followers of Atrium Carceri are highly attuned to any and all developments with their dark ambient lord and savior, and would have made the connection swift-like. Council Of Nine is his own dark beast, doing his own dark things within the dark drone folds.

And making quite a departure with Diagnosis from Dakhma. Whereas the latter focused on a setting and the surrounding atmosphere, this album is all on that introspective gaze, insular and reflective as one is wont to be when alone with their thoughts. Track titles like Memories Are Fading, Sedation, Void Of Regret, and Riddled With Guilt certainly paint a bleak journey within the psyche, but then what would you expect from a dark ambient release? And honestly, Diagnosis is one of the more melodic albums I’ve heard from the Cryo Chamber camps, melancholic as needed without succumbing to pure depression and despair. There are even brief moments of uplifting tone in opener Rite Of Passage, maybe hinting at some hope in the journey of judging thyself we’re about to embark upon. Hah, not bloody likely.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say Diagnosis offers no reprieve or remorse for the listener, but Council Of Nine lays the drone almost as thick as the crushing tones of Dakhma. Instead of feeling claustrophobic within a macabre ritual though, you’re surrounded by all the doubts and misgivings of your past, unable to escape the crippling regrets that have led you to that not-so comfy couch in the shrink’s office. At least, I figure that’s the intent of Diagnosis. After a promising start, the album kinda’ mushes into an unending bleak drone in the back half. Cool if that’s Council Of Nine’s intent, but I was hoping for a little more journey in this one. Mind Over MIDI spoiled me, is what.

Mind Over MIDI - Deep Map

diametric.: 2015

I didn’t think much of it while browsing the Ultimae Store, simply another intriguing CD that gave me the Silent Season feels with that packaging. I’d never heard of Mind Over MIDI, and quite probably would have continued my sifting had the album’s title not tickled the fancy of that would-be cartographer residing somewhere near my heart and soul (a quarter-inch to the upper right of the spleen). So take the splurge-plunge I did, and boy, was I not expecting this. Okay, I had some inclination – Ultimae doesn’t rep just anyone, and the grayscale mass of water and land hinted at something ambient, dub, with a dash of static and drone. That the mind behind this MIDI has such a storied career though, I hadn’t a clue, not a single bloody one.

Helge Tømmervåg is how he typically deals with airport staff, and has been making music from his native Norway for two decades now. Starting out mostly on that post-Aphex acid techno tip, he soon took on dub techno with all the sonic space it provides, and might have found a comfy home in a chill, year 2000 dub-n-glitch set had such DJs ventured beyond mainland Europe for their records. As it was though, he carved out a respectable niche on Norwegian print Beatservice Records, home to such acts like Biosphere, Circular, and, um… Slowpho? Flunk? I don’t know much about this label, so far off in lands that may never see a winter sun as they are.

Mind Over MIDI eventually moved on from Beatservice though, finding a semi-home with Silent Season; of course he would! He’s also released material on diametric., a recent, fiercely independent print that adores things like ‘soulful techno’ and ‘experimental electronix’. Their roster includes names like Valanx, Sons of Melancholia, Submersion, and Be My Friend In Exile. Oh man, we sure these guys aren’t from Norway too?

As one can glean from these label wanderings of Mr. Tømmervåg, he gradually left the techno throb of his dub explorations behind, focusing more on the ambient sonics and space beatless music affords. Some of his records turn very abstract and minimalist, so it was with some glee his longtime followers heard he was returning to something with real melody in Deep Map. Maybe, I don’t know, there’s scant info on how many fans Mind Over MIDI has. The few stray comments I’ve crossed seem positive though.

And this album, oh yeah, this is definitely some introspective stuff. The first couple tracks mostly drone about with static, fuzzy dub, and distant pads; very melancholic mood music for our times. Then the middle portion of Deep Map erupts with bright synths, as though we’re in Hearts Of Space’s domain of New Age ambient (the non cheesy sort). The back half is something of a conflict between suffocating static dub and meditative melody, with ample field recordings littered throughout, and no clear resolution by CD’s end. Dare I give this the ‘journey album’ prestige? I does dare indeed!