Various - UK Space Techno, Vol. I

Millennium Records: 1996

Yeah, I get why Millennium Records would eschew the ‘goa’ tag for its new compilation series. The European market was already flooded with tons of CDs offering trippy, acid-drenched dance music, with many a label rushing out to capitalize on hot buzzwords goa, trance, and the like. And fair enough, a lot of folks thought of early trance simply as ‘space techno’ (or ‘space house’, LOL), so it’s not that great a leap in logic in taking this angle. I dunno though; it still feels disingenuous promising ‘space techno’ from the UK, and having a good sixty percent of the tracks still feeling that rush of psychedelia from the shores of India. I sure wasn’t expecting so much goa trance when I picked this up way back when, nosiree.

What I was expecting was a whole lot of unknown names giving me another crash-course in all this ‘techno’ business going on overseas. I definitely got that, what with names like X-Cabs, Green Nuns Of The Revolution, Jon The Dentist, Darren Price, and Chris Liberator (as Star Power) appearing on this double-discer. Okay, so they weren’t outright unknowns, but who here remembers tracks like The Attic, or Neuro, or Desert Storm’s Scoraig 93, or Kenny Larkin’s rub of LA Synthesis’ Agraphobia? Hm, that’s all techno that’s rather spacey too, isn’t it.

I swear UK Space Techno Vol. I is filled with obscure goa trance, honest and true! Cosmosis’ rub of Disco Volante’s El Metro, for instance, or Monosphere’s Elysian Fields, or the Spectra Mix of Optica’s Alkaline PH9. And who can forget such forgotten gems like Isomise’s KHO Phang Gain, or Head-Doctor’s Train å Medellin, plus Polyploid’s Coaster Prefix? Certainly not I, since I’ve had this CD for two decades now (holy cow!).

Since this compilation tries to have its acid cake and eat its goa trance too, it creates an odd dichotomy of tunes that no amount of ‘space techno’ branding can overcome. CD1 isn’t too bad in this regard, hitting you early with simpler, recognizable tunes like Neuro and Spacer IV’s Arc 3 (I think it was) before moving onto psy leaning cuts, the odd acid techno tune breaking up any potential monotony along the way. CD2, on the other hand, opts for pure techno tracks for the most part, some of which are regarded as classics in terms of UK offerings (Scoraig 93, Agraphobia, The Simirillion (Svenson’s Trip To Gondor Remix), others not so much (Skintrade’s Andromraxess, Integrated Circuits’ Ghost 843). Having them assorted with trippy goa and hard acid from the Stay Up Forever posse doesn’t do them any favors either, coming off rather basic and monotonous compared to the busier cuts. I often don’t even remember much of what’s on CD2 until I throw the disc on again. Such is the case with so many double-disc compilations from the mid-‘90s though: a couple classics, a few unheralded gems, and a pile of agreeable filler lost to the ravages of raving history.

Lingua Lustra - Uhadi

Psychonavigation Records: 2015

Albert Borkent has been releasing music as Lingua Lustra for over a decade now, but started really cranking the releases out after the ‘10s took form. Guess that partnership with Databloem helped fuel the ol’ creative synapses just fine, to say nothing of the near twenty assorted digital EPs he spit out under his co-owned print Spiritech (Alireza Zaifnejad; aka. Blue Bliss also handles the print). In the meanwhile, he’s put out a few albums on assorted labels like Anodize, Lagerstätte, earthMantra, Bakshish Music, Electronic Soundscapes Records under his Sol Tek side-project (guess what music they release!), and finally Psychonavigation Records. And yes, I’d never have stumbled upon Mr. Borkent’s material had it not been for that discount haul on the part of the Ireland print, but oh is there so much tempting Lingua material to trawl through now.

That’s for another time though. For now, I’m left with yet another predicament of taking on yet another artist for the first time with yet another hefty discography I’ve nary the time to fully immerse myself in. I’m just gonna’ have to take Lord Discogs’ word that most of the Lingua Lustra stylee consists of similar ambient and drone soundscapes as I’m hearing on Uhadi, though clearly with less uhadi involved. And what is an uhadi, pray tell? Why, it’s that charming musical bow you heard on Leftfield’s Afro-Left, though that was the Brazilian version of the instrument (berimbau), whereas an uhadi is the original South African contraption.

It’s also a titular cut on this album, and most definitely the centerpiece clocking in just a shade under thirty minutes in length. What’s strange is there’s very little use of the instrument in that runtime, at least in any traditional sense that I can hear. Plenty of field recordings though, including passing airplanes and bird song, plus lengthy passages of pleasant synth pad and drone. Some mild tapping of an uhadi does emerge in short order, providing a minor rhythmic backbone to the track, but gradually fades out by the ten-minute mark. It comes back for around five minutes near the end, then the track completely changes course into something darker and dubbier. I should also mention I’m only assuming the gentle tapping is an uhadi. Doesn’t make sense to name a track like that without making some use of the instrument.

It’s a nifty piece of music all said, though clearly for ambient-lovers only. Frankly, I was more intrigued by the opening thirteen-minute piece Rise, what with its ultra-dubby groove, night forest field recordings, and lazy, hazy cascading bell tones – reminds me of something I’d hear out of the Silent Season camps. A few ‘shorter’ cuts round Uhadi out, including trip-hopper More Than Words Can Say, a tune that wouldn’t sound out of place on an older Shadow Records CD. Siren gets more experimental in the trip-hop vein, and closer Run brings the lowdown beatcraft into proper murk as foreboding strings play out. Holy cow, this really is Shadow Records revisited!

The Orb - U.F.Orb

Island Records/Inter-Modo: 1992/2005

It’d difficult denying U.F.Orb as the group’s best work, though I can understand how others might enjoy their other albums more. After the genre-defining excess that was Ultraworld though, The Orb were quick in adjusting and refining just what they had on tap with their music. Cut out all that excessive ambient dithering (save it for the live shows, plus no one got the ironic ‘prog-rock’ joke of it all anyway), focus in on more groovy earworms that rave punters and chilled stoners could vibe on equally, and make each collaboration play to those particular players’ strengths rather than having them around just because you could. The result is six near-perfect tracks within the Orb canon, custom made for the ’92 crowds, and enduring to this day. Plus Sticky End.

Right, high claims signaling out U.F.Orb as most essential and all that, especially as it lacks those truly iconic Orb tunes everyone knows. The closest two we get are Blue Room and Towers Of Dub, each the fifteen-minute breaking behemoth highlights of the album, and the sort of cuts that turned Ultraworld into the double-disc effort it was. Hilariously, the original mix of Blue Room clocked in at a shade under forty minutes in length, a cheeky attack of sorts on the UK charts in pushing the limits of what constituted a single in that nation’s music scene. Hey, I wouldn’t mind hearing that on the radio – any chance to hear more of Jah Wobble’s bass work and Steve Hillage’s space guitar effects is ace in my ears. Nor did the British folk either, Blue Room peaking out at number eight, The Orb’s second highest single ever (only Toxygene’s done better, deliberately so).

Towers Of Dub is the other one, what with its charming bell melody, funky harmonica tootin’ from Marney Pax, and, um, towering layers of dub effects throughout (and can’t forget ‘that bassline’!). I suppose opener O.O.B.E. is a minor memorable tune off here, if anything for its inclusion on Live 93. It’s such an ultra-mellow piece of music though, about as ambient as anything The Orb produced in this era, and frustratingly quiet at times too. For some reason, the only part that ever sticks in my head is the sampled game of billiards.

What of the remaining three, then? How do they fit in the grand Orb lexicon? The titular cut, a modest six minute piece that may as well be proto prog-house, goes about its business as a decent enough transitional cut between O.O.B.E. and Blue Room. Close Encounters goes longer, grooving along on a similar sample-heavy house vibe. Finally Majestic, the obligatory Youth collaboration, keeps the proggy tone going, with a hook in its final minutes that’s as ear-vermis as anything else on U.F.Orb. How this one never turned out a single, I haven’t a clue. I suppose outside of Little Fluffy Clouds, most didn’t give The Orb’s early conventional dance tracks as much notice. They were defining other shit, mang!

The Orb - U.F.OFF - The Best Of The Orb

Island Records: 1998

It’s embarrassing admitting this, but U.F.OFF was the second Orb record I ever picked up. For sure I knew about all their previous albums (Orblivion was inescapable the year prior), even took a couple in as demos at music shops. For whatever reason though, I never bothered buying the Very Important Albums until well after the fact – wow, did Pomme Fritz really sour me on the Orb Experience that much? Yeah, cannot deny it did a little, but that whole ‘living in Canadian hinterlands’ where ‘electronica’ was scarce didn’t do me many favors either. Plus, having The Orb in your CD collection wasn’t exactly the ‘cool’ option around my peers, everyone more hip to The Prodigy, The Chemical Brothers, and Orbital. So the conglomerate that Alex Paterson built forever floated on the fringes of my fancy, an act I knew important enough to respect, but not necessarily dig through. You can bet my last dollar then, that finding a handy Best Of retrospective would give me the Orb crash-course I so desperately needed – got me all Orb-woke, son.

Obviously, a tidy twelve-tracker of The Orb’s first decade of music making is only scratching the surface, mostly settling on radio-friendly versions (or 7” mixes) to tell the tale. This includes the Orbital Dance Mix of A Huge Ever Growing etc. etc., which isn’t a remix from Orbital. Little Fluffy Clouds always was the dancier cut from Ultraworld, whereas Youth’s rub of Perpetual Dawn gives the tune more house pep (and, that bassline!). Further along, DJ Asylum (a reworking of Asylum from Orblivion) hits fast and hard with the breaks and earworms compared to its album counterpart, there’s an Original Mix of Towers Of Dub that lacks the harmonica but adds goofy dialog between a cop and hippie in trial, and a new track of Mickey Mars answers the question of “what would it sound like if The Orb used that Native chant from Enigma’s Return To Innocence?”. The remaining classic singles (plus Pomme Fritz (Meat ‘N’ Veg)) are generally so short as to only offer their basic components before moving on to the next cut. Hell, the lone Orbus Terrarum track, Oxbow Lakes, doesn’t even officially appear, hidden away as a secret song long after Pi (Part 1)’s minute-long runtime fades out.

Still, hearing all these vintage Orb tunes finally gave me enough appreciation for their work to start digging further, which I done did. Strange that such a release would have come out but a third into the group’s existence though. Did The Orb conglomerate figure their time in the sun was done? No, but their deal with Island Records sure was, feeling mistreated and maligned by the Major at that point. I mean, the cover art and title of this Best Of couldn’t be less subtle about their feelings if they tried, which astounds me they got away with it at all. Just a shame their retreat led to some of their most inessential work too.

ACE TRACKS: December 2016

*Whew*

Was that ever the long-haul, seemingly dragging on with no end in sight. This final stretch felt nothing less than desperately crawling across a grueling marathon finish line, the path to the end littered with broken glass, coarse rock salt, and scattered baby diapers.

But enough about the previous calendar year – how’s about completing that massive alphabetical backlog, eh? I quipped back in… September? October?? Well, sometime at the start of it that it might take me until the end of the year to get through it all. I didn’t think it actually would, my steady rate of nearly a review per day scheduling me to have wrapped up sometime in early November at worst. Looking back though, I was incredibly optimistic, having ‘penned’ around seventy-five reviews out of the lot. Holy cow, excluding ‘U’, that’s the same amount as the entirety of the remaining letters in my regular queue (‘V’-‘Z’). No wonder it took so long. One thing’s for sure though, is I need myself a little break, a chance to recharge the brain for this final-final stretch after what’s been an exhausting past few months for a multitude of reasons. But before that, here’s the ACE TRACKS for the month of December, 2016.


Full track list here.

MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - Splash!
Cosmic Replicant - Soul Of The Universe
ZerO One - protOtype2

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage of Rock: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: Not a thing.

Fairly standard playlist, what with only half the amount of albums covered this past month. A little ambient, dark ambient, ambient techno, and some d’n’b too. I’m surprised it even reached four and half hours long.

So yeah, no reviews for January, but should be back come February to take on the ‘U’ portion of my collection. The currently-building backlog will have to wait until after that, as I’d like to make some progress with my main objective in this insane project. In the meanwhile, if you’re just dropping in for a looksee, or happen to have stumbled upon this blog for the first time, by all means explore the 1,000+ reviews already here - that's plenty 'nuff reading to tide y'all over the next thirty days. As for me, it’s time to focus on another music project that’s finally making headway. What might that be, you ask? Well…

High Contrast - True Colours

Hospital Records: 2002

It may come off as ridiculous hyperbole to claim this album forever (and a day) changed the way Hospital Records went about doing drum ‘n bass, but it’s pretty much the truth of the matter. Liquid funk as a genre already existed as a nebulous idea, though with few clear, identifiable traits dozens of producers followed up with. High Contrast almost single-handedly codified how the new-fangled ‘fast soul music’ concept would be done on London Elektricity’s print, everyone following Lincoln Barrett’s form in defining one of this century’s most popular strains of d’n’b. Heck, if a mighty Pendulum hadn’t come along with their own style, liquid funk could very well still be top dog to this day.

So yeah, True Colours (or True Colors for y’all yanks), a Very Important Record in the history of d’n’b, but not exactly the best album out of High Contrast’s discography. Frankly, that would be his confident sophomore effort, High Society, if nothing else than for the liquid funk stylee coming fully formed and furious on that record. Or maybe Tough Guys Don’t Dance, what with its liberal sub-genre hopping. True Colours though (or True Couleur for the Francophones) is clearly Mr. Barrett in his early stages, more conservative in his productions, perhaps a little unsure whether the whole liquid funk thing would catch on beyond a flight of fancy for casual heads. Well, London Elektricity believed in it, abandoning any pretensions of carrying jazzstep’s legacy in favor of High Contrast’s fresher, brisk beatcraft with hooky soul samples galore.

For sure there’s some gems of the genre within True Colours (or True Rangi if you speak Swahili). Make It Tonight was the first single High Contrast put out, nearly a year prior to his debut full-length dropping, and I can’t be the only one noticing that string hook bears some resemblance to Codename John’s Deep Inside Of Me - hey, soul samples can come from the recent past as well as some dusty ‘70s 7-inch. Passion also came out in the year 2001, closing in on the sound that would turn Hospital Records into a dominating force, though that bass tone’s a bit rough. But yes, the definitive liquid funk classic, Return Of Forever, is the opener, bringing nearly everything you expect of the genre (such a glorious string section!). Perhaps the only surprising thing regarding it now is how the build-drop template doesn’t tear out as hard as liquid funk typically does - they were still defining them, after all.

A few jazzsteppy numbers round out this ten-tracker (Music Is Everything, Remember When), but by and large True Colours would rather let the ‘fast soul music’ mold settle than fool with eccentricities. That general lack of diversity in True Colours may be a turn-off for liquid funk followers who came to the genre late in the game, though I’d be astounded if such quibbles were deal breakers for that scene’s fans. They really are a devoted, passionate sort.

Pantha Du Prince - The Triad

Rough Trade: 2016

Pantha Du Prince is Hendrik Weber, a very important person in the world of techno. Along with analog-loving sorts like The Field, he helped ease the scene out of its stuffy pretentions by injecting playful, melodic elements within. It was a desperately needed development following the dry, dank era of minimal ‘this are serious music’ techno, and ol’ Pantha toed the line between tough, functional beatcraft and heart-tugging sentimentality as capably as any producer. By the time his Black Noise album dropped in 2010, folks were so warmed by his charming bell tones and shoegazing timbre, the transition from minimal tech-house singles was practically an afterthought, proclaiming this was the proper Pantha Du Prince stylee all along. Well, except for those stubborn hold-outs from his earliest Dial days – sorry, guys, he ain’t going back to the micro-haus anytime soon.

Still, Black Noise came out in ye’ olde year of 2010, such an age ago compared to where techno has developed since. Bringing melody into your works is no longer such a taboo stylistic choice within this scene, all manner of producers getting their analog pad and hypnotic arp works on. Some see it as the growing influence of indie musicians ‘discovering’ techno (thanks, Pitchfork!), thus bringing their tricks of trade into the scene as well. For sure the shoegaze side of things has long shared attributes with chill-out genres (going by a wack moniker of, ugh, ‘chillwave’), but that it penetrated the traditionally uptight techno scene was remarkable. Oddly, whenever I hear this stuff, I keep thinking of trance music, albeit of a far classier sort than you’ll often find labeled as such. All hail ‘neo trance’!

What I’m trying to get around to saying is Pantha Du Prince’s style of shoegaze-tech-minimal-neo-prog-haus isn’t the shining beacon of light within a dour scene it once was – plenty of producers have caught on that you can make techno that’s rather chill too (but not ambient techno, that’s something different). That leaves his long awaited follow-up to Black Noise - The Triad - existing in a strange no-man’s land of expectations. Folks adored the last record, but are they really hankering for a return to that sound after so long, and with so many other options now available? And what of that all-important Artistic Evolution we demand of our techno heroes? Whatever is Pantha Du to do?

Carry on from Black Noise, it seems. The Triad is just as melodic with the bell tones and shoegazy with the floating vibes, though perhaps a little lighter on the dancefloor effectiveness. There’s a few tough basslines about (Chasing Vapour Trails, Lichterschmaus) but this is one subdued record compared to his early material. Ol’ Pantha’s far more interested in exploring open spaces between his beats and bells, with floating vocals, layered instrumentation (guitars, yo’!), and expansive pads edging his music ever closer to the domain of progressive house to my ears. I therefore dig this album, though it’s so stubbornly mellow, I find my attention drifting too often.

Symmetry - Themes For An Imaginary Film

Italians Do It Better: 2012

What might this little item be, sitting so coolly in the CD shelves? Looks like an anonymous act going by the name of Symmetry, using vintage red SSD LCD font, offering up music for a motion picture that only exists in the imagination of the musician creating said pieces. And we have a hot dashboard for a hot car, cruising a hot dusk leading into a hot night. If that don’t get my retro synth senses tingling, then I haven’t been paying attention to this hot, little synthwave genre developing over the past few years. Not that this album has much to do with that particular scene, Themes For An Imaginary Film having a far more nuanced story behind it than your typical synthwaver inspired by Jan Hammer and John Carpenter. Come, pour yourself a mug of rum-n-nog, gather round the digital hearth, fire up a Yule Log YouTube, as I tell the tale of Themes For An Imaginary Film.

Themes For An Imaginary Film comes care of Johnny Jewel, he of the Italians Do It Better label, a print that made its name peddling retro disco and synth-pop for a modern era. He’s also helmed a number of groups within said label, including Glass Candy, Chromatics, and Desire, building quite the rep’ as one of Los Angeles’ foremost tastemakers. No small feat given the cutthroat nature of Tinseltown’s entertainment industry, but it was enough to get him a foot in the door of Hollywood’s music scene, landing his output a few licensing deals along the way. Johnny Jewel though, he aspired for more – nothing less than scoring a complete film would satisfy his drive.

Say, what’s this, a movie called Drive is in need of a soundtrack with a synth-poppy retro sound? Johnny Jewel can do that absolutely! Oh, wait, they already got a composer, industry man Cliff Martinez - they only want a couple songs from you instead (one Desire, one Chromatics). Aw, but ol’ Johnny already made a bunch of tunes for potential use in your indie movie about cool-bad guys doing cool-bad things with cool-bad cars, a double-LP’s worth in fact! Well, save it for your own use then, maybe release it separately under a new guise like Equipoise or Synergism.

At 2CDs in length, I’d say Themes For An Imaginary Film is a lot to chew on, except many of these thirty-six tracks come off like half-formed background pieces. A few hold their own as individual works of moody electro (City Of Dreams, Blood Sport), cinematic synth-pop (Jackie’s Eyes, Streets Of Fire) and reflective ambience (Hall Of Mirrors, Ghost Town). For the most part though, these are pure score fodder, interstitial music bridging moments between dialog. Still, with a little refinement and culling, I can definitely hear how these could have been used as an alternate soundtrack to Drive.

As for Johnny Jewel, he’d finally get his scoring break with the crime drama series Those Who Kill, and last year’s flim Lost River. Perseverance!

William Orbit - Strange Cargo III

I.R.S. Records: 1993

The only William Orbit album you’re supposed to have, despite most folks buying up Pieces In A Modern Style as their One True Orbit album instead. Without the success of Strange Cargo III, however, there may not have even been a Pieces In A Modern Style! Okay, that’s stretching things. Ol’ Will already had a decent reputation in clubland as a remixer throughout the early ‘90s, providing rubs for an eclectic assortment of artists (Prince, Nitzer Ebb, Erasure, Kraftwerk, Betty Boo, Peter Gabriel, Sven Väth, The Cure, The Shamen, The Human League, The Madonna). He was also actively making music under various guises since the early ‘80s – synth-pop in the group Torch Song, ravey UK house with Bassomatic. William ‘Orbit’, though, was Mr. Wainwright’s main creative outlet, where he artistically indulged himself with ambient, pop, funk, and whatever genre fusion struck his fancy at the time – hoo, is the first Strange Cargo ever dripping with ‘80s fusion.

Thus Orbit was no stranger to DJs the world over, and the UK. If anything, they were quite receptive to whatever music he produced, though perhaps with a cautious ear, Orbit so often toeing the line between savvy club weapons and blatant crossover material. Whatever misgivings DJs might have had with Mr. Wainwrights’ earlier material, however, was quickly assuaged when Water From A Vine Leaf dropped as Strange Cargo III’s lead single, practically a re-introduction of Orbit to a whole new generation of ravers and punters unfamiliar with his ‘80s output.

An instant classic in Balearic and progressive house circles (remixes from Spooky and Underworld helped), playlisted by all the Very Important DJs, and even picked up by the mighty Virgin for distribution, it would be one of Orbit’s most successful singles ever released under his own moniker. Oh, and it also introduced clubland to Beth Orton, her vivid dialog about four young girls giving her water from a vine leaf (just dropping it onto her tongue) almost single-handily making her an in-demand vocalist for producers (Chemical Brothers sure noticed).

It’s tough topping such a single, so Orbit doesn’t even try, instead spending the rest of Strange Cargo III genre hopping and blending styles of the time as he typically did with this series. A few more progressive tunes show up (Into The Paradise, The Story Of Light, A Touch Of The Night, Gringatcho Demento complete with a squalling guitar solo), proto trip-hop naturally gets a look (Time To Get Wize; Best Friend, Paranoia), hints of his future dalliance with modern classical make appearances (Harry Flowers, Water Babies), and ethnic-fusion chill-out drops in for a bit (A Hazy Shade Of Random, The Monkey King, Deus Ex Machina). Phew, is that ever an earful.

By no means is Strange Cargo III a perfect album. It does drag with Orbit’s indulgences in the back-half, and a few tracks have dated some. Still, it’s far more interesting than much of his work following Ray Of Light, totally deserving the praise it earned way back when.

Apócrýphos - Stone Speak

Cryo Chamber: 2016

I can tell we’re nearing the end of this massive backlog, because this is the last of all those Cryo Chamber CDs I picked up this past year. Except for the stragglers hiding out in the letters below ‘T’. There’s also another small bundle I recently bought too (darn winter sales…), but y’all will have to wait until the (hopefully not-so-dread) year 2017 for reviews on those items. Ooh, suspsense…

This will be my thirty-first Cryo review (!!), twenty-seven of which I’ve done in the past eight months (!!) (!). I know I keep reiterating this point now, but despite having such an ‘unpresidented’ crash course in dark ambient, you’d think I’d be growing hip to the tricks, trades, and clichés the genre has to offer. Such to the point that I can guess how an album of the stuff will play out with but a glance at the cover art and track titles.

Like Stone Speak, from Apócrýphos. It’s got weird looking obelisks in the middle of a desolate landscape, a region that looks ravaged by volcanism, everything reduced to ash. So some sort of cataclysmic natural apocalypse went down, and these mysterious looming towers are either the cause or the monuments to said event. Hey, the 2010 monoliths literally blew up Jupiter to create a new star, advancing the evolution of creatures living under the ice of Europa. Maybe something similar is going on with this picture, a sacrifice of sorts so others may live and thrive in their stead. That would suggest music within with some ritualistic connotations (because obelisks), but generally eerie, dreary ambient and droning dirges, reflecting on the aftermath of said cataclysm. See, no trouble at all.

Well, I was mostly on point. Robert Kozletsky, the man behind Apócrýphos, began the project with The Prisoners Cinema on Canadian print Cyclic Law. Later that year, he joined the Cryo crew with the collaborative album Onyx (featuring Simon Heath as Atrium Carceri, and Cyclic Law mainstay Kammerheit; aka: Cities Last Broadcast). Prior to that, he worked with Jakob Detelić as Psychomeanteum, and with Kyle Carney as Shock Frontier. A solid resume in a short period of time, all said. Mr. Kozlesky’s angle is taking strolls through abandoned macabre areas (old burial grounds, ghost towns), recording the still sounds that permeate such locales. That would explain the sense of recently deceased I get from Stone Speak …how can you capture that on tape anyhow? *shiver*

Only six tracks make up this album, most around the nine-minute mark. The first few develop in similar ways, a lengthy empty drone with field recordings establishing a mood, eventually morphing into dark, reflective pad work to end off; tracks in the back-half of Stone Speak generally evolve in the reverse direction. Some of these pad tones do an impeccable job tugging at the ol’ emotion endorphins (wow, Tenebrous is lovely), which I honestly did not expect from this record. Seems dark ambient still has a few tricks up her sleeve yet.