Space Dimension Controller - Orange Melamine

Ninja Tune: 2016

I thought I’d have talked about Space Dimension Controller well before now, his Welcome To Mikrosector-50 a most pleasant surprise of an album when it came out in 2013. Then again, I thought I’d have nearly completed this massive listening project too, well passed the ‘W’s, and maybe even considering taking on the first few letters again for this blog’s completionist sake. Then again-again, I should have known more music would have come into my collector’s gravitational pull, sucked into my domain like so much cosmic detritus. My desire to consume everything and all knows no bounds, more insatiable than an unholy merger of Galactus and Unicron (Galacticron?). Good God, imagine if I could actually afford all that I wished to buy? I’d probably still be somewhere around the ‘G’s! (so much fabric, so much Global Underground)

Jack Hamill, the young man controlling all this space dimension, has kept a sporadic rate of output since first emerging with the moniker in 2009. R & S Records gave him his first major break in promoting his early singles and proper debut album, but he’s floated among a few other prints in the meanwhile too: Kinnego Records, Royal Oak, and now Ninja Tune. Whoa, talk of unexpected developments – what would the Ninja crew have in mind with a producer primarily focused on electro and loving nods to Detroitism?

Releasing the Space Dimension Controller archives, it seems. Orange Melamine unearths material from Jack Hamill’s teen years, back when he was still figuring things out about where he’d take his wayward muse in love with retro sounds. Seems the UK underground was just as much on his mind, as this album’s filled with jittery, post-dubstep beatcraft, a style Ninja Tune has shown plenty of interest in (at least, much more than R & S). In fact, Orange Melamine has a fair bit in common with all those influenced by Burial’s romanticism of clubbing days gone by, crackling hazy recollection of music from a fondly remembered Before Time. Rather than getting all misty-eared over UK garage and grime, however, Mr. Hamill has his muse set on retro-future sci-fi, as heard through the archaic crusty technologies of the 20th Century. For real, when I first heard The Bad People’s opening warbling distorted arps, I thought my headphone wire had a faulty connection!

Orange Melamine is a conflicting listen, one ear firmly in pulpy futurism, another in nostalgic fuzz, loosely held together with scratchy beats like so much sonic duct tape. Even the track titles flit between such sentiments - Adventures In Slime And Space, Multipass, Melting Velcro Shoes, Leader-1 (wait, the Go-Bots character?). Other times Mr. Hamill dabbles in simpler influences, like freak-out acid rave (Los Locos, Velvet Gentleman), pure electro funk (Gullfire), or Boards Of Canada trip-hop (Volvo Estate). It’s also all rather under-written compared to later works from Space Dimension Controller, but that’s unsurprising consider Jack’s age when making these. Definitely worth a playthrough though, if only for a different take on retro-future sounds.

Fear Factory - Obsolete

Roadrunner Records: 1998

How does one follow an album that creates an entirely new form of metal in the process - a unique genre cross-breeding with industrial while never losing sight of its thrash roots, and that few would or could replicate for years to come? By getting super-artistic, naturally, settling for nothing less than a high concept ‘rock opera’ opus, exploring ideas and expanding themes only touched upon in Demanufacture. Fear Factory would fully commit to an LP narrative, with a distinct Three-Act story, all the while pushing their songwriting abilities beyond the full-throttle intensity that marked their prior work – so many different time-signatures, mang! It would be bold, it would be unprecedented, it would challenge metal in daring, new- wait, are those record scratches in Edgecrusher? Oh no, it’s too soon to hop on the nu-metal bandwagon!

Obsolete (or ºBSΩLE†e, if you’re ace with your character map) was ambitious for a third recording effort, one that could have flopped had Fear Factory overreached their ability. Instead, the album would go on to be their best selling record, though clearly feeding off the positive buzz Demanufacture and touring generated (also, that cover of Gary Numan’s Cars, which obviously fit nowhere here). Things were definitely looking toppers for Fear Factory then, but a series of unfortunate incidents following Obsolete’s release put a serious grind on the band’s future prospects. Those are musings for another time though, if I ever review any of their albums between this and Genexus (not very likely).

The setting for Obsolete should be familiar to anyone clued into the band’s dystopian outlook, laying the future-shock stage plainly with opener Shock. Follow-up Edgecrusher gives us our protagonist – or antagonist if you’re cheering for the machine overlords – and aforementioned wiki-wikis aside, is a solid bit of groove-mosh. Stomp-thrasher Smasher/Devourer introduces us to the Edgecrusher’s foe, a police mech run amok (“you’re a loose cannon, Literal Walking Cannon!”), while Securitron (Police State 2000) gives us the ruling overseers keeping the rabble in check. All par for the course in this sort of tale.

The middle portion of the album gets into the society in revolt, ol’ Edgecrusher helping stoke the fires for freedom against humanity’s oppression from the robotic ruling class. This being Fear Factory, the titular cut doesn’t mince words in letting the silly homo sapien populus know their place in this strange forbidding world. Having original robot-fetish singer Gary Numan provide a digitized bit of opening dialog certainly helps sell that notion (hey, you already got him featuring in that Cars cover). Ol’ Edgecrusher seeks salvation of a sort in Resurrection, where the band’s propensity for grand theatrics soar high, ending the album on an uplifting, hopeful outlook for this ruined society.

No, wait, there’s one more track, Timelessness, a mournful dirge complete with backing orchestra (thanks, Rhys Fulber!). Seems our salvation was for naught, Edgecrusher captured and carted off to jail after all. Machinery always wins out in Fear Factory’s world. Resistance is futile.

Sound Of Ceres - Nostalgia For Infinity

Joyful Noise Recordings: 2016

It had to happen eventually, genre lines so blurred these days as to fool even studious record store clerks. Yet maybe shoegaze has come far along in its development that it’s abandoned all pretense of being part of the Rock Domain, more content hanging out with dorky ‘electronica’ folk. This may just be the new normal, stumbling upon ‘dream pop’ where I typically hunt for techno and jungle. Still sends a strange shiver over my shoulder though, music that once was out in the indie racks now sneaking into my unsuspecting ears.

Gads, what an incredibly narrow-minded take on music. What if there is something in shoegaze pop that could win me over? Hey, I don’t doubt there is, but it’s not high on my bucket list. Truthfully, I’d probably have never given Sound Of Ceres a chance if I had any prior knowledge of them, or even took a pre-listen in the shop, their tunes just not what I was after that sunny day in Seattle.

But nay, I went in blind, lured by the intriguing cover art and suggested promise of music with a cosmic bent. Such was the idea behind this particular band anyway, the genesis of Karen and Ryan Hover looking to expand their earlier dream pop work as Candy Claws into something grander. It certainly is that, Nostalgia For Infinity the sort of thickly layered shoegaze that’s instantly catchy to the ear, yet contains so many little details, there’s always something new to hear with each playback. Eh, that’s part of the Sound Of Ceres manifesto too? Ah yes, the concept of ‘five orbits’, as presented in the album’s liner notes, each sonic layer a descending orbit for the listener to traverse. I can’t tell if that’s artistically pretentious, or musically playful. All shoegaze is like this, isn’t it?

Still, it’s a concept I can buy into. At first impression, Sound Of Ceres does the dream pop thing as fine as I’ve ever heard (disclaimer: not a whole lot), with Karen’s wispy floating vocals almost subsumed by layers of reverb. I have to pay actual attention if I’m to decipher her lyrics, after which I start noticing finer details in the instrumentation (guitar tones, electro drum kits, field recordings, retro synths, plucky electronics). For the most part, it feels like I’m listening to a long lost slice of Boomer psychedelic pop, all the folksy Americana of Brian Wilson’s best work, but fed through an idealistic, introspective lens with modern production chops. Oh, and final track Dagger Only Run reminds me a lot of Gorillaz’ Empire Ants - very similar cascading synth arp between the two. Or is that just a dream pop staple regardless? I honestly don’t know.

Maybe one day I’ll learn all there is to know of this genre. For now though, Sound Of Ceres provided a pleasant diversion from my same ol’, same ol’. In fact, it came off too sunny for this particular month. Must return to next April.

Tiga - No Fantasy Required

Counter Records: 2016

For someone who seems primed for a glorious run wading through the pop charts, Tiga sure doesn’t like venturing there often. Every time he comes out with a new album with a couple instantly catchy club tunes radio stations wouldn’t have much problem playing, he retreats to the DJ circuit instead. Even after adopting a new live show in support of his third full-length No Fantasy Required, Mr. Sontag’s back to the relatively safe confines of rinsing out records on a regular basis. Not that I blame him for keeping to the scene that nurtured his rise from the early Montreal raves to globe-trotting stardom – the actual pop scene is a vicious, cruel mistress, more than capable of gnawing you to raw pulp before spitting you into a gutter. Tiga has no problem flirting with said mistress, but is wise enough to know any long-term engagement leads to more trouble than it’s worth.

Which in part explains the long wait between Ciao! and No Fantasy Required, seven years in the making. Mr. Sontag had definitely kept busy in the interim, releasing nine singles in that time. That’s almost enough for an LP right there, but only a few show up in this album, primarily the most popular of his quirky club anthems (Plush, Bugatti). Aww, no 100 with Boys Noize? Guess that one was too much of a one-off milestone to make sense in an album context. Also missing are a number of Audion collaborations (Fever, Let’s Go Dancing), but Matthew Dear lends his hand on a clutch of new tracks for No Fantasy Required anyway, so it’s a wash there.

I’m honestly surprised Dear’s serious approach to techno worked well enough with Tiga’s more playful style, 3 Rules’ goofy bounce as mischievous as anything Mr. Sontag’s done with Jori Hulkkonen. Less interesting is the Hudson Mohawke collaboration Planet E, the sort of moody acid cut with pitched-down vocals I honestly thought had gone by the wayside as of late. Really, the whole middle portion of No Fantasy Required drags with serious techno groovers, save a light, poppy deep house offering of Tell Me Your Secret where Tiga’s earnest singing shines wonderfully.

It’s these moments that serve No Fantasy Required best, highlighting Tiga’s ease with introspection even as nonsensical faux-posh ‘bugatti’ quips are what folks generally remember him for. The titular opener, Make Me Fall In Love, Don’t Break My Heart, and Blondes Have More Fun offer some of the deepest vibes ever heard on a Tiga LP, and stand in stark contrast to the motionless club tunes that eat up the album’s middle portion. Maybe it’s that Stuart Price factor.

Oh yeah, Price is here too, providing “Musical Assistance” to No Fantasy Required and Don’t Break My Heart. Talk about your ‘set pop stars retreating from the limelight all in together’ narratives! Like, I know The Thin White Duke kept busy with Pet Shop Boys, but you sure didn’t hear about it compared to those Madonna and Killers collaborations.

Perturbator - Night Driving Avenger

Blood Music: 2012/2015

The debut EP from Perturbator, self-released way back in ye olde age of early 2012 (before the dark times… before the Orange Emperor). Naturally, when Blood Music started reissuing his back-catalog, they went to bat with multiple limited-edition coloured records, a standard digipak CD, but no tape for this outing. Huh, guess that collector’s scene isn’t as obsessive as others if they can’t be bothered with singles. Why, back in my day, when tapes were all I could afford, I bought singles, absolutely. Okay, only a few – Bad Boys Blue’s Go Go (Love Overload), Intermission’s Piece Of My Heart, and 2 Unlimited’s Maximum Overdrive - but the market was there even in the waning days of commercial cassettes, so surely it exists in these waxing days of novelty cassettes. I’m honestly surprised Blood Music didn’t offer up a tape option for at least Night Driving Avenger.

I’ve also realized, despite having written three reviews of the chap, I haven’t delved much into James Kent’s pre-Perturbator fame. Right, there isn’t much to tell, but I’ve gotta’ burn some word count with a fresh angle, so here’s a few tidbits. He played guitar in various metal bands prior to adopting synths, which I can definitely hear in the way he constructs his tracks (lots of half-time bridges, which metal adores) - finally that Blood Music tie-in makes sense. His pop’s also apparently a well-known rock scribe, Nick Kent having written about punk music during that scene’s rise during the ‘70s, and publishing articles in all manner of respected rags (NME, Spin… Guardian?). Seems the Elder Kent also got into scuffles with some of punk’s icons, including Sid Vicious and Adam Ant. Hm, does this mean if James wants to live up to his father’s legacy, he’s gotta’ get it on with Simon Reynolds or Philip Sherburne? Okay, that’s enough.

Night Driving Avenger is a handy little primer into what the Perturbator style generally entails, each track touching upon his various types of songs. Opener Grim Heart does the moody, cinematic build, the sort of music you’d expect of credit sequence at the start of an ‘80s pulp film. Electric Dreams goes slower, synthier, and introspective. The titular cut ups the tempo into a pulse-pounding action thrill ride, and Miami Sunsets brings it all together into synth-pop’s realm as our hero/heroine rides off into a neon-soaked boulevard. Oh, plus a charming chiptune cover of Flock Of Seagull’s I Ran, called I Ran To The Arcade. Cute.

What isn’t cute, however, is the mastering on this EP. Dear Lord, but is there ever a lot of muddy side-chaining, with no dynamics to speak of. I know much of Perturbator’s music is generally brickwalled, but it usually adds to the gritty dystopian nature of his tunes. Not here though, the Young Kent clearly still figuring his way around production. Rather remarkable, then, he got the knack of it so quickly with later releases. Shame Blood Music didn’t give Night Driving Avenger a remaster though.

Martin Nonstatic - Nebulae Live At The Planetarium

Ultimae Records: 2016

Ultimae Records has put out a few live recordings in the past, but it’s not one of their main selling points. Even then, it’s mostly via the label’s second-tier acts, like Cell, Circular, and Scann-Tec. And even then-then, such releases are regulated to the digital-only realm, hard copies extremely rare. Their last live CD was H.U.V.A. Network’s Live At Glastonbury Festival 2005, released in 2010. Guess Ultimae was overdue for another regardless, but it feels odd they’d give Martin Nonstatic the honors, a relative new recruit to the French label’s ranks. Then again, it’s not like the print’s fielding a deep roster as of late, options for a ‘second-tier act live album’ exceedingly small. Heck, at this point, Martin’s practically part of the starting bench, one of the few artists with a full-length album out on Ultimae in the last few years.

Previous Ultimae live LPs featured recordings taken from festival performances, but Nebulae Live At The Planetarium comes from a more intimate setting. Aww, no crowd cheering ambience? Of course not, folks at the Zeiss Planetarium in Bochum, Germany likely far too tripped out on the dome projections, man. Unfortunate there isn’t an accompanying DVD video though, displaying the visual splendor of the event as the music within plays along. Then again, how can you replicate a planetarium projection at home? Clearly a typical TV or computer screen won’t cut it. Even a home projector doesn’t do justice, still reliant on flat surfaces like a wall or ceiling. And what about the lasers, man? Everyone knows a good electronic music show at a planetarium’s gonna’ have a far-out laser show. Eh, I’m not fussy, at least some YouTube clips of the event would suffice. No dice? *sigh*

Forget the visual aspect then. At least we’ll get to hear some nifty reinterpretations of Mr. Nonstatic’s tunes. Slight problem in selling that angle though, at least in my case: I honestly can’t recall much of his music. For sure I know I liked what I heard from his Ultimae debut Granite, and should I pop that album on again, I know I’ll enjoy his chilled-out, dub techno vibe just the same. As I mentioned in my review of that CD, however, very little of it sticks to my brain matter, and playing Nebulae back, I honestly didn’t notice any significant differences based on memory alone. I do have sparks of recollection in some songs – the low throb of Granite, the guitars of Distance B, the heavy dub of Out Of Silence - but aside from a more expansive mixdown benefiting a live planetarium show, I couldn’t tell you the difference between these and the album versions without side-by-side comparisons. Which I can’t say I’m interested in doing for this CD.

Really, I was hoping for more tunes from Martin’s back catalog, but ultimately Nebulae is just a remixed version of Granite. A fine downtempo, dub techno album for sure, but hardly necessary if you’re not interested in the sound.

Souls Of Mischief - Montezuma's Revenge

Clear Label Records: 2009

I always wondered what ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ meant, figuring there was more to it than a kick-ass ride at Knott’s Berry Farm (The G-forces!! The G-forces!!). I thought it was fanciful Mexican folklore, the famed ninth Aztec emperor Moctezuma II arising from the dead to exact vengeance on the Spanish Conquistadors who killed him and murdered his people. So when I heard Souls Of Mischief had an album out of the same title, my first thoughts was something along those lines, except it was a case of indie, conscious hip-hop making its revenge upon the oversaturated ‘pop-rap’ of the time – everyone was bemoaning hip-hop’s death by the late ‘00s, after all. Then I discovered the general meaning of ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ in today’s society, which yes, I admit, has eluded me all this time (count my blessings, yo’). Ah, now it all makes sense when asked about the title’s meaning, Tajai quipped, “The deeper meaning is the album will make you crap yourself.”

However you read it, Montezuma’s Revenge was seen as something of a rebirth for the Hieroglyphics foursome, their first album together after nearly a decade of simmering solo projects. A-Plus, Phesto, Opio, and Tajai didn’t have plans for a reconvention of their MC powers, but a passing Prince Paul expressed interest in working with the Oakland crew, which sounds like an all-star project the likes backpackers around the globe could only dream of. One of the preeminent producers of indie hip-hop paired with one of the most respected groups from the Golden Years, all hanging out in the same studio, unleashing all their potential creativity into a mega-reunion collaboration super-project! Or not.

I admit the Adrian Young project There Is Only Now spoiled me some towards what a Souls reunion could truly entail. For sure there’s nothing to find at fault with Montezuma’s Revenge, as the group sound as fine as they ever have, and Prince Paul handles the dials with sleek professionalism while throwing a few trademark quirks in for good measure. And when compared to what hip-hop was doing on the charts in 2009, the laid-back beats and witty verbal dexterity on display must have been a welcome respite for the old-school heads. It’s just, with all the players involved, one kinda’ hopes for a little more than what we got here. A new modern-classic rather than experienced vets giving us acceptable examples of their tried and true abilities. Even Prince Paul has a bit of a pisstake with it all, a guest “Mr. Freeman” calling into the studio telling the lads they need to drop that “old-school shit, son”. And indeed Souls Of Mischief would, after teaming up with Adrian Young for that new modern-classic everyone had been dying for since ’93 To Infinity.

Montezuma’s Revenge feels more like a warm-up to the Souls’ resurgence in the current decade, a trial-run before all the members embarked upon bold new territory. Lord knows they needed it, and Prince Paul was more than capable in lending a hand.

Aegri Somnia - Monde Obscure

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Oh, dark ambient, may you wrap your bleak, inky tendrils over my confused being, leading me into dreams, reflections, and realms that are as twisted reality to our own. The Dread Year Of 2016 shows no remorse, but it cannot compare to the strangeness your scene provides in a multitude of ways. Near futures where we blew it all up (us maniacs!), peaks into dimensions perverting our hypercritical sense of moral decency into twisted parodies upon ourselves, inner and outward sojourns into extreme isolation from humanity’s failings, pondering how the self can carry on in the face of so much strife and decay. Forever searching for those specks and glimmers of light and hope in an unyielding chaos of black.

I did not intend for this genre to provide so much escapist solace this year, but damn if it doesn’t do the job better than most of my traditional standbys. Or maybe it’s that whole ‘new novelty’ factor, sounds and songcraft that is fresher for yours truly. Oh, but that’s just so much less poetic.

Anyhow, Monde Obscure is yet another Cryo Chamber album I’m reviewing, because of course it is. I promise though, this will be it from the label for… a little while? There’s only a few left in this endless backlog, so they gotta’ be spaced out better than this last batch of EVERY. OTHER. CD. Though I’m quite enraptured by a lot of this label’s output, a little more variety needs to kick in soon. I didn’t undertake this wacky listening project just to hear the same ol’ over and over.

ANYhoo, this album comes from Aegri Somnia, or Jurica Santek to the Croatian Crab-Lovers Committee [citation needed]. The Latin alias translates to ‘The Patient’s Dreams’ in Google, referring to fever dreams, or dreams induced from madness – something to do with a suffering sickness. And while the project has existed in some capacity over the last decade, Mr. Santek hasn’t done too much with it, a sprinkling of a smattering of released material over that time. Still, with digital albums like Nothingness and Script, he developed enough of a cult following (yeah yeah, ‘cult’, ‘dark ambient’, har har), that Cryo Chamber gave him the greenlight to put out a new album under their banner, spiffy hardcopy CD and all.

With cover art of a burnt-out husk of an apartment tower, you’d expect Monde Obscure some post-apocalyptic business, but the tale behind this album is a much different. Rather, this charred building serves as a portal to another realm, one not for the faint of heart. As dark ambient records go, this one is heavy on the field recordings, music almost incidental to the whole. There are snippets of piano, pad, choir, and tonal drone, but Mr. Santek would rather guide you through creaking infrastructure, dripping water, burning hallways, and distant echoes of crowds shuffling beyond this mortal coil. Feels like I’m playing one of the good Silent Hill game while listening to this.

Sounds From The Ground - The Maze

Waveform Records: 2010

It took nearly fifteen years, but Elliot Jones and Nick Woolfson had finally found a way to evolve their sounds from the gound. They had to have been itching for something new after all that time, but their craft with ambient dub was so skill, there wasn’t much need to mess with the formula. True, they did some nu-jazz and trip-hop explorations too, yet so did everyone else in the downtempo scene around the turn of the century, so their efforts mostly got lost in the glut. Perhaps that’s why they ended up back with Waveform Records shortly after, a sturdy, steady print with a small enough roster they wouldn’t be buried in the process. Only drawback may have been Waveform’s dedication to the spliff’d side of chill vibes, but Sounds From The Ground maneuvered those waters far better than most throughout the mid-‘00s, milking the style nearly up to our current decade.

As I said though, changes were afoot, required even. Waveform itself was moving ever so slowly into contemporary sounds found on the crusty festival circuit, new cats on the scene embracing digital production over the sample-heavy style of the ‘90s. After so many years doing the dubby trip-hop thing, Sounds From The Ground finally embraced a comparatively ‘plastic’ aesthetic as well. The Maze was their first effort in this bold new realm of psy-dub electro!

Whoa, wait, that’s way too much overselling for this album. Its different compared to their prior work, but on a song-writing level, not that much different. There’s still an undeniable sense of dub groove Sounds From The Ground navigate with ease throughout, sections still filled with floating chill-out bliss (Temple Steps, Midnight Crossing, ambient leaning Afterglow), plus room for excursions into oddball electro explorations (Delphine, Acid Cornflats). Though never the hookiest of music makers, Jones and Woolfson come up with a couple nifty earworms befitting their legacy (A Thousand Colours features a lovely little swaying melody with its dub groove, This Land works in a grumbly, gritty bassline that has me wondering if the duo were feeling the dubstep itch as well). And just in case you still craved some of their jazzy influences, The Lenox gets some of that lounge vibe going with muted trumpets and spritely keyboards jamming alongside chill acid. Also, is it just me, or does the title of this song have you imagining Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax, but staring Annie Lennox in the titular role? What a bizarre book that would have made, featuring an androgynous synth-pop singer over a grumpy Wilfred Brimley stand-in. Future consideration for the 2071 100th Anniversary reboot!

And that’s about it for The Maze. Like so many Sounds From The Ground albums, there’s little at fault with their songcraft, though if you don’t fancy the dubby side of downtempo chill music, you probably won’t be fussed with this album. Still, in adapting a few new tricks to their trade, The Maze is one of the higher recommendations in their discography.

Tricky - Maxinquaye

Island Records: 1995

Tricky was my first exposure to trip-hop, via Deep Forest of all groups. The world beat duo provided music for the 1995 cyberpunk thriller Strange Days, and Teenage Sykonee being the throes of ethno-pop at the time, eagerly checked the movie out. Cannot deny I was also quite intrigued by the Kathryn Bigelow film on its concept, a look into the near future of the year 2000, and what the End Of The Millennium might hold.

It seems so quaint now, the fear that things would somehow catastrophically and abruptly end just after 11:59pm of December 31, 1999, and I’m not just talking that silly Y2K Bug thing. Nay, Strange Days depicted a society where, with the right kind of angle, seemed on the verge of utter collapse, a powder keg of racial strife and decadent decay, easily lit with but a single, reckless act of senseless, bigoted brutality. I have to admit Ms. Bigelow teased such an eruption so expertly throughout the movie, I actually believed the prophetic Millennial Apocalypse was nigh at the movie’s climax. Yet, clearer heads prevailed, the ‘eruption’ but a ‘scritch’ overall. Ms. Bigelow was smart, knowing Y2K paranoia was much ado about nothing. No, the real problems wouldn’t start until 16 years after! (Sorry, but it’s difficult not getting topical and political right now)

Tricky’s debut Maxinquaye is hailed as one of the shining moments of trip-hop’s mid-‘90s peak, in large part because it’s barely a trip-hop album at all. True, he helped Massive Attack set the template of the genre, and there’s definitely some all-time classic trip-hop class on here. Overcome, the opening track - and tune featured in the Strange Days soundtrack (relevancy!) – works a sultry, dubby, tribal thump, losing itself in the grit of inner city lust and doubt. Aftermath, his debut single, was initially intended for Massive Attack, but the lads behind Attack said ‘nay’ to that one, a shame because it would have fit marvelously into their canon.

That rejection, plus feeling generally stagnant within the group, prompted Tricky to pursue his solo ventures. He had plenty of ideas in his head, but not much production capability on his own though. Enter producer Mark Saunders, who somehow stitched together Tricky’s wayward muse into comprehensible music. Soul, punk, hip-hop, dub, and all manner of sample-heavy abstraction fill Maxinquaye, leaving you unsure where it’s going at any given time. The vocal dynamic between Tricky’s subdued conscious raps and cooing of singer/life partner Martina Topley-Bird fuels the sense of life on the skids, a scattershot collage of hopes and paranoia, lust and despair.

I probably can’t prop this album up any more than the UK press did at the time (holy cow, the hyperbole!), but as one of the seminal trip-hop albums of the era, this “not trip-hop” record definitely earned its spot among the Blue Lines and Dummys. It’s confrontational compared to the others, but that makes it all the more intriguing as a whole, as you decrypt the angst within.