Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc Four: 1962-1994)

Verve Records: 1994

Despite initially being vilified as ‘devil reefer music the [blacks] liked’, jazz had a darn good run at the top. One cannot discuss music of the ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s without its influence on culture abroad. But though it remained a significant player in the ‘60s, newer music started dominating the lexicon of a younger generation. Rock, folk, funk, R&B, and country were seen as the sounds of the Now and the Future (not to mention weird abstract noises from electronic contraptions), and if jazz musicians wished to remain relevant in general discourse, they had to adapt with the times.

Thing is, most jazz musicians didn’t give a lick about that. Sure, a few gained the attention of Very Important rock journalists (Davis, Hancock, Coltrane), but for the most part they were content enhancing ways of approaching their craft. A ‘free’ method, if you will, eschewing the conventions of old to find more ways of playing all the notes. I can’t say I’m much of a fan of this expressionist era, all that technical skill coming off as musical masturbation. Give me something to hook on, mang!

Verve Records must have sensed the changing tides, branching off into other music after founder Norman Granz sold the label to MGM. They still had successful jazz records early in the Sixties, but as the decade wound down, so did their jazz output. The music here showcases some of the more ‘leftfield’ records they released in this time, including Latin sounds of Cal Tjader’s Soul Sauce (Guachi Guaro), Kenny Burrell’s Last Night When We Were Young, and The Girl From Ipanema with Stan Getz and João Gilberto. CD4 wraps this era up with the old bop standard Night Train as performed by Jimmy Smith and Wes Montgomery. You know this tune from Back To The Future.

Speaking of the ‘80s, let’s time-jump two decades! *whoosh*

What’s Verve been up to in that time? Not a whole lot, mostly doing re-issues for Polydor after that media group bought them from MGM in ’72. Despite traditional jazz almost a cultural afterthought for much of that period, these sold well enough that by the late ‘80s, PolyGram decided there was enough interest in the music to warrant a semi-relaunch of Verve Records. They’d still continue the reissue business, but also start signing new talent as well, bringing back all that swing, bebop, and free jazz stylee to those who never lost the faith. Maybe they got in on that developing ‘acid jazz’ sound too, but there’s none of it with the small sampling of ‘contemporary jazz’ we get on CD4. And yeah, as with the ‘free’ stuff from the ‘60s, I’ve only a passive, technical appreciation for this stuff, nothing more.

Still, one can’t help but come away from The Verve Story with at least some appreciation of the music’s heritage. Verve Records is far from the whole story, but it’s a significant chapter of jazz’s legacy.

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc Three: 1957-1962)

Verve Records: 1994

I’ve mentioned plenty ‘nuff my reservation in exploring jazz beyond the peripheral due to that scene’s daunting size. And hey, fair enough, right? There’s only so much music out there one can dedicate one’s time to. This habit don’t pay the bills (oh God, if only…), so my time remains limited. Nay, ‘tis easier to focus on what I’m properly passionate about, checking other stuff whenever the whim strikes me. Still, there’s another reason I’ve so often put jazz music on the low-end spectrum of my interest, and it’s entirely due to one instrument: the saxophone.

Before saxophone fans get all in a tizzy, this isn’t some arbitrary hate on the horn’s heritage or stylistic preference. I generally enjoy the sound saxophones bring to the world of music, an important touchstone in giving blues, bebop, noir films, and Lisa Simpson their cultural identities. Unfortunately, there’s an audio range of the instrument that’s like needles on my eardrums, physically painful for reasons I don’t understand, generally anything above the mid-tenor through alto – lower tenor and baritone are fine. This gets especially trying when jazz musicians are playing with gusto, incidental reed squeaks making things even worse. I’ve read it attributed to medium, saxophones not surviving the transition into digital terribly well. Perhaps, but it doesn’t help the fact it remains one of the premier instruments of jazz musicians, and thus effectively curtailing whatever enjoyment I get out of the scene.

Take the opening track of CD3 in this Verve box-set, Crazy Rhythm with trombonist J.J. Johnson and tenor saxaphonist Stan Getz. Holy cow, but is that rhythm ever crazy! This is some of the fastest jazz music I’ve ever heard, and super-props to Ray Brown (bass), Connie Kay (drums), Oscar Peterson (piano) and Herb Ellis (guitar) in staying so tight, feeding J.J. and Stan all the fuel for their solos. And Mr. Johnson does his thing, and I’m diggin’ it real good, and then Stan does his thing, and I enjoy it for his technical skill, but I don’t feel it so well, because his horn hurts my ears like so much high-tempo saxophone always does. This handicap totally sucks, it does.

Anyhow, CD3 sees the Verve machine in full swing (including a couple swing tunes, though rather subdued compared to the raucous Forties). Jazz is entering its ‘sophistication’ era, no longer the default music of choice for hep cats (culturally defunct) and cool kids (they prefer rockabilly), but upper-crust parties and college-educated professional adults. Just as well, as fancy musical innovations like ‘high fidelity’ and ‘stereo’ were getting their starts too, and only rich folks had the money for playback machines that could take advantage of it. There’s some nifty tunes here (Ella Fitzgerald getting her scat-bop baritone on, Stan Getz’s Night Rider further fusing classical touches with jazz, Jimmy Smith adding organ to the Verve legacy), but this is about where my interest in jazz music as a genre starts cratering. More on that in CD4!

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc Two: 1953-1957)

Verve Records: 1994

Right, it wasn’t just the nifty box-set design that caught my attention when buying this. The name Verve Records does have some pedigree even to those as unenlightened of jazz’s storied history as I, so it was a safe bet checking out a 50th Anniversary collection for a proper knowledge-drop on the music.

To simply call it a jazz label hardly does the Verve print justice though, adopting many other scenes as tastes and trends shifted through the ‘60s and ‘70s. They brought us the Righteous Brothers, The Velvet Underground, The Frank Zappa And The Mothers Of Invention, and assorted folksy music too. Jazz remained Verve’s breaded butter though, and even as the music slowly dwindled from prominence, it found a comfortable role in reissuing its back-catalog, all the while gobbling up other jazz prints as labels consolidated their assets into mega-labels. They’re apparently now under the Interscope Geffen A&M Records banner, but not before making stops with MGM, PolyGram, and Universal. I can’t imagine founder Norman Granz figured his print would ever take such a convoluted journey.

Before he set up Verve Records though, Granz had a couple other prints. CD1 focused on his seminal Jazz At The Philharmonic concert tours (not so much a label, but a cross-label brand), and Clef Records, which ran for a decade before being absorbed into Verve. Around 1953, Granz set up another label called Norgran Records, though it too was consolidated into Verve in ’56. It’s this five year period that CD2 cribs its material from, the mid-‘50s in all its boppin’ glory.

Yeah, there’s a good deal of the bebop groove here that’ll have you realizing where the roots of rock’n’roll originated from – the rhythm guitar was getting more opportunities to strut its stuff, that’s for sure. Naturally I’m fonder of this stuff, though hearing more blues-leaning jazz doesn’t hurt either. And while swing was essentially on the outs by the Fifties, that didn’t mean big-bands went by the wayside too, quite a few offerings of ‘orchestras’ on display here (minimum six musicians present, singer optional). I can’t help but think of grand Hollywood spectacles of hip, urban life while hearing these tunes, which is in stark contrast to the more modest, quieter pieces like Art Tatum’s piano solo Tea For Two and Benny Carter’s My One And Only Love - now I’m at a stuffy cocktail party.

However, the most prominent new addition to the Verve legacy CD2 showcases is vocalists. Obviously jazz music had singers before, but when Granz established this print, it was with promoting singing talent in mind. This included such vocalists as Anita O’Day, Billie Holiday, and Ella Fitzgerald, who he personally managed. In fact, the first official Verve release was a collection of Cole Porter covers sung by Ms. Fitzgerald. For my money though, that duet with Louis Armstrong (They Can’t Take That Away From Me) is the clear highlight. Dang near everything ol' Louis did was gold.

Various - The Verve Story: 1944-1994 (Disc One: 1944-1953)

Verve Records: 1994

Like any good and true ‘lover of music’, I had to eventually pay my pittance to jazz music. Where to start though? Its history is impossibly immense, with no hope of simply dipping one’s toes within - even the shallows are as vast as a continental shelf to the scene’s endless oceans. Acid and nu-jazz have provided me a few backdoor avenues, though only delayed the inevitable proper step into the world of swing, blues, bebop, Afro-Cuban, bossa-nova, smooth, cool, free, and a zillion others, I’m sure (and you thought electronic music could get convoluted in its genre demarcations). A ‘best of’ collection seemed an appropriate starting point, but how does one differentiate the soulless corporate cash-grab compilations from the earnest sets curated by authorative historians? Packaging is usually a good indicator of quality, hence why I impulsively sprung for a 4CD box-set celebrating the 50th Anniversary of Verve Records sitting in a used shop – the box has a nifty, faux-vinyl texture to it.

This, of course, means I must now write four reviews of jazz music. No, there’s no avoiding it, no loopholes in my arbitrary rules I can exploit. I’ve written reviews for Every. Single. Disc. of box-sets that include Neil Young, Pete Namlook & Klaus Schulze, Pete Namlook tributes, plus two centered around video game music. It’s only appropriate and decent that I afford jazz music the same prestige (shut up, Goa Trance – Psychedelic Flashbacks, you’re irrelevant to this discussion).

Think there’s not enough material to cover here? Please. I could easily spend four reviews discussing the players involved on CD1 alone, though most of it would be dry regurgitation of historical talking points. I have practically no intimate knowledge of such musicians like Bud Powell, Charlie Parker, Illinois Jacquet, or Machito & His Afro-Cuban Orchestra. I do recognize some names here though, like Billie Holiday, Lester Young, Roy Eldridge, Nat King Cole, and the ever-famous cheek-puff maestro Dizzy Gillespie, but that’s through sheer cultural osmosis. I can tell you how these guys were influential in the development of jazz music, but not why it’s significant with any sort of clairvoyance on my part.

Nay, the most I can offer here is detailing the ‘feels’ such music gives me, and yeah, CD1, I feels ya’. The disc covers the first ten years of Verve’s history (technically not even Verve yet, but I’ll get to that later), when jazz was moving on from swing and into its bop era. For the most part, I quite like this era, what with its brisk rhythms and free-wheelin’ solos (soundtracking cartoons of the time doesn’t hurt either). There’s an energy and zest for performing to the best of one’s abilities captured with these recordings, a chunk of which are live as performed in concert halls. Even the slower, bluesy numbers have enough soul in them I can’t help but hang on each note. Add in that authentically crap, crusty, ripped-from-records quality, and it feels like I’m transported to another time and place.

Groove Armada - Vertigo

Jive Electro: 1999/2000

I already mentioned Vertigo is the only Groove Armada album you’ll likely have, even if you’re not a Groove Armada fan, back when I reviewed The Remixes. That’s only true of American interests though, the duo enjoying plenty of sales numbers for follow-up LPs Goodbye Country (Hello Nightclub) and Lovebox. And despite a half-decade gap, Soundboy Rock did reasonably well in the UK, but it was clear their fame abroad was diminishing. A new wave rebranding for 2010’s Black Light generated a little sustained buzz, and perhaps they could have kept that going if trends weren’t so darn fickle in the world of club music. Instead, they’ve recently opted for that safest of fallbacks all producers succumb to, deeeeeeep house. Ah well, at least there’s precedent in their discography for it.

Vertigo always strikes me as the sort of album that shouldn’t have had much of a hope at gaining Platinum sales status, yet was destined for it regardless. The big singles off here were so ubiquitous in turn-of-the-century advertising, Groove Armada couldn’t help but generate bank from it, though I only heard Fatboy Slim’s rub of I See You Baby on this side of the pond. Still, the summery feel-good vibes of If Everybody Looked The Same and chilled bliss of At The River (mmm, sandy dunes and salty air) make for swell soundtracks accompanying visuals of beautiful people driving beautiful cars in beautiful locales. Instead, we got Moby.

The rest of Vertigo though, how does that hold up? Like, this is mostly an acid jazz record, right? It’s got those funky, groovy rhythms that isn’t quite house music (Chicago, Pre 63, Serve Chilled), ample amounts of jazzy instruments played as laid-back loops or in studio (orchestral swells in Whatever, Whenever, trumpet in Dusk You And Me, turntable scratches and Balearic guitar action in A Private Interlude), and hard-stomp soul (Your Song). There’s also some straight-up house action with In My Bones, plus the original I See You Baby cut, even if it is kind of a plodder. And for a closer, Groove Armada dabble in an eight-minute long trip-hop excursion titled Inside My Mind (Blue Skies) …at least, if you got the UK version of Vertigo. Fatboy Slim’s rub of I See You Baby was so popular though, it got tagged onto the end of American copies, which suits me fine. Ends the album on quite the peppy note, it does.

But these are all loose demarcations. At this point in their career, Groove Armada’s appeal lay in their blending of familiar genres into tasty morsels that played nicely on the radio. Whatever edgy, underground influences Misters Cato and Findlay held, they’re smoothed right the fuck out here - small wonder their recent, straight-forward attempts at new wave and d-e-e-e-ep house haven’t caught on in the same way. Still, if all you’re after is some light dabbling in chilled-out funk and soul while lounging on your patio, then you probably already have Vertigo in your folders anyway.

Vernon - Soundstream

promo: 1999

This CD caught my eye in the used-shop because I associated the name ‘Vernon’ with one Vernon Jerome Price, most famous for his hit Eye Q EP Vernon’s Wonderland. There’s more Vernons in the world of electronic music, but that was my first, so despite figuring this wasn’t the same Vernon, it was enough to check out on the flip regardless. And there I discovered Soundstream is a promo CD for a local DJ, which begs the question how this ended up in a used-shop. Where I paid money for it. Aren’t these supposed to be free? Whatever. Since the Vernon behind this mix is undoubtedly way under the radar of folks outside the southwest nub of British Columbia, commence the background info dump.

Vernon Douglas was a resident of one of Vancouver’s more successful underground nights, Deepen. This came at a time when the city’s nightlife was experiencing a radical shift, the main Granville Strip of clubs turning into homogenized bottle-service experiences filled with ‘bridge-and-tunnel’ douchery, earlier haunts for authentic underground house and techno forced out among the fringes of downtown. One such place was the Lotus Sound Lounge, a literal basement on the borders of the infamous Downtown Eastside. Clearly the perfect place for a proper underground venue, and Deepen found a comfortable home there in the year 1999(ish?). It nurtured such talents as overseas tech-house hero Jay Tripwire, dependable prog-house jock warm-up staple Kevin Shiu, and fabric contributor Tyler Stadius. I suppose I should also mention Deepen was my first ‘authentic’ experience at an underground club, while on a visit in Vancouver from my interior hinterland exile. Damn skippy that night at Lotus gave me incentive to move here. Heck, it was likely ol’ Vernon on the decks, but I can’t recall for sure.

Unlike his pals and associates working the decks each Saturday night though, Mr. Douglas never broke out of local fame. When Deepen came to an end some ten years ago, he moved onto a career in energy management and a quieter family life. He still dabbles with the label/podcast business (Deepen Sound), and will show up for a throwback rinse-out or anniversary love-in for those heady Deepen days, but it seems the hectic world of clubbing is in his past.

*whew* That was a mouthful. What do I have left for this promo CD, then? It’s definitely got that Deepen flavor to it, tech-house with a deep, dubby feel most associate with the opening portions of a prog DJ mix. Dot Allison’s Close Your Eyes is here, as is the Global Communications rub of Fluke’s Slid, and Hakan Lidbo’s Televinken on future Very Important Label Poker Flat Records. Vernon’s set does a decent, groovin’ build to a mid-set peak with Marino Berardi’s Numero 10, then takes the long ease-out into deep house’s territory for the remainder. Soundstream is essentially a strong sampling of what one might hear at Deepen in the year 1999, which makes sense given this is a promo disc.

Vermont - Vermont

Kompakt: 2014

[Obligatory United States Of America geographical joke]

Ah, haha-ha! Hoo, what a zinger that was, eh? And the way I tied it into [Contemporary Political Talking Point] with [Middling Movie Franchise], it just can’t be topped. What does this have to do with Vermont by Vermont? Well, we wouldn’t have gotten to this place without the guiding hands of such Very Important record labels like [Three Name Drops] and [Notable Artist/DJ], so you see, [Crushing Conclusion That’d Make Simon Reynolds Weep With Envy].

Vermont (by Vermont) is now three years old. Yet it doesn’t feel so long this was being talked up in the same, small window of reverent breath along side Tycho’s Awake, Todd Terje’s It’s Album Time, and Efdemin’s Decay. Yes, it was a fun time being a Very Important music journalist covering hip, underground electronic music that appealed to the chiller side of tastes. Naturally I was having none of that, concerned with reviewing Ishkur’s old CDs instead, but I cannot deny the cover-art for Vermont’s Vermont intrigued me enough to pluck a copy. I figured by the time I got around to reviewing this album (late 2015, lol), the hype would have passed and I could take in this music proper-like. But now this duo’s gone and recently released a sophomore album (II), which kinda’ makes this look like hitching onto a freshly revved hype wagon. I swear its pure coincidence, just like [Inflammatory Political Talking Point].

For those who missed it the first time around, Vermont (4) is comprised of Danilo Plessow and Marcus Worgull. The latter has DJ’d for a number of years now, and through Innervisions put out sporadic singles along the way. Mr. Plessow is more of a production journeyman, flitting from project to collaboration to remix to project over the past decade. I recognize Motor City Drum Ensemble among his credits, and his work with Joachim Tobias as Inverse Cinematics garnered positive buzz from deep nu-jazzy sorts, so a decent pedigree in the funky soul camps. That begs the question, then, of why he’d make a debut with Mr. Worgull as Vermont for an album of throwback ambient techno and Berlin-School weirdness? Just because they wanted to? What sort of [Calvin & Hobbes Artistry Quote].

The thing I recall most about Vermont’s Vermont CD is the general sense of disappointment it brought to those hotly anticipating it. The music is very humble and unfussy, going about its business without much care for ‘pushing boundaries’ or ‘changing the game’, as so many thought Plessow and Worgull would. It’s the sort of ‘ambient pop’ that Kompakt have had no problem promoting for years now - pleasing to the ear, crafty to the head, charming to the soul, with enough unique attributes to stand out from the pack (Guitars! Drums! Old-School Bleepiness! Theremin!), though not necessarily stick with you even after playing it over a few times. Vermont is an album that the phrase “good enough” was destined for. Sometimes that’s all you need.

The Crystal Method - Vegas

Outpost Records: 1997

The only Crystal Method album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a Crystal Method fan. Hell, even fans might argue this is their only album worth having, a hefty chunk ditching the duo once big beat fell out of favor with popular tastes. I know I did, albums Tweekend and Legion Of Boom failing to spark much interest from me for a purchase. They still held a significant following with those albums though, which is more than can be said for The Method’s recent ventures into festival friendly mind-rot bosh. Not that folks shouldn’t have seen it coming - Ken Jordan and Scott Kirkland have long kept their foot in the world of commercialism, whoring out their music to the highest advertising bidders in Hollywood and beyond. The difference is they’re lost riding overcrowded bandwagons now, whereas back in the day, they were at the forefront of the zeitgeist.

They couldn’t have picked a better time to drop their debut album Vegas than the year 1997. America was tentatively coming around to electronic music thanks to ‘rockier’ acts from abroad making profitable inroads (heavy Virgin promotion didn’t hurt). Just so happened that a little duo out of Las Angeles was also buzzing, reppin’ the Westcoast acid-tweakin’ breaks action, but implementing beefier beats too. It was similar yet distinct enough to stand out from the likes of Chemical Brothers and Prodigy, and damn skippy American media was eager in promoting a homegrown ‘electronica’ act. Thanks to compilation duty on Moonshine, City Of Angels, MTV’s Amp, and TVT soundtracks, The Crystal Method was everywhere you turned. You could not exist in the year 1997 without having Busy Child and Keep Hope Alive penetrating your earholes.

Still, Vegas isn’t continuously name-dropped in reverence to this day if it lacked the tunes to back it up. Yeah, Busy Child was ridiculously overplayed, but it remains a fun slice of acid funk. And Keep Hope Alive will never get old, big-beat acid action at its crystallized perfection. Trip Like I Do, which had that Spawn tie-in with Filter, if possibly one of the best album openers ever, while Cherry Twist, She’s My Pusher, and Vapor Trail make for agreeable chemical breaks filler on an album full of killer.

Elsewhere, Crystal Method slow things down to trip-hop’s domain in tracks Bad Stone and the spaced-out High Roller (“you got it”), all the while retaining their crunchy acid sensibilities (I think Moonshine tried calling this sound ‘hard-hop’, or ‘trypno’ – you do you, Moonshine). And to prove they aren’t just all about those block rockin’ beats, a couple ‘poppier’ tunes in Comin’ Back and Jaded add vocalist Trixie Reiss to the mix, though Jaded is darn ambitious for a seven-minute, crunchy, acid-soaked radio jam.

If my mentioning any of these tunes had them flaring up in your memory membranes, it just goes to show the impact Vegas made on electronic music. Two decades on, it still reverberates and overshadows everything The Crystal Method has done.

Vector Lovers - Vector Lovers (2017 Update)

Soma Quality Recordings: 2004

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review.)

I remain woefully neglectful of those two Vector Lovers albums between this and iPhonica. I simply don’t know if I’d like them though. I mean, I’ve heard some of the singles Martin Wheeler put out around that time, and they’re all tech-hausy, or deep-techy, or dub-hausy. Fine if you’re a DJ looking for some rinse-out material, but I enjoyed Vector Lovers for the touching electro melodies and groovy robot funk, so I haven’t been in a hurry to- Eh? They’re not like that? How can I corroborate this info? Oh yeah, Spotify. Guess I should do some ‘music journalist research’ on this then. Hold on.

*a couple illuminating hours later*

Um, oh wow. Huh. I had no idea. Just goes to show you can’t judge an album by its associated singles, eh? Still, despite my primary reservations, I’d likely have dropped some cash for those albums if I spotted them on the cheap. A decade on, and they still haven’t come down from full price, some of them fetching upwards in the hundreds of dollars now, which is mind-bogglingly bonkers. On the other hand, these are decade-old CDs now, released on a label that probably didn’t have a huge production run of them in the first place. For sure Soma Recordings has clout in the world of techno – they got this particular album into the Vancouver shop I stumbled upon in the year 2006 after all – but even they must run out of copies eventu- Eh? They still have copies for sale on their online store? Um, oh wow. Huh. I had no idea. Say, that British Pound isn’t doing so well right now either, is it?

Since my original TranceCritic review of Vector Lovers is already plenty and exhaustingly detailed, here’s some additional items of interest I gleaned in my Spotify trawl of Mr. Wheeler’s music. First off, the 2011 Electrospective didn’t just gather up a ‘best of’ collection of Vector Lovers, but also offered them up as ‘remastered’ versions too, essentially beefing them up musically, practically turning them into remixes. For the most part these are handled with enough class as to not render the originals moot, but Spotify does, replacing the original tracks with the remastered versions on the albums too. That… just might make the CD copies rare collectibles now, the only place one can hear the originals. Incidentally, five tracks from Vector Lovers made the cut on Electrospective.

Another track that did was an A2-side to the Electrobotik Disco single, Shinjuku Girl. It’s a nice little downtempo electro number in that easily identifiable Vector Lovers stylee, but I must draw attention to another cut off that EP, Electrobotik Disco Part II. Holy cow, if you thought the album version, or even Electrosuite, was ace dancefloor material, this tune takes all that robot future-funk, then feeds it through a galloping techno beat that’d have all the ‘electro’ guys of the mid-‘00s quivering with hearts in their eyes. How have I missed this for over a decade!?

Lorenzo Montanà - Vari Chromo

Psychonavigation Records: 2015

And now the conclusion of Lorenzo Montanà’s Trilogy on Psychonavigation Records. One. Year. Later. No, really, we last left off from Leema Hactus on May 17, 2016, and now we’re on May 19, 2017. I swear to God and all His subsidiaries that I did not plan for this remarkable cosmic coincidence; that we’d be at nearly the exact same spot in our solar orbit as the last review. In fact, I had no idea things had lined up like this until I went back through my previous Lorenzo writings for a quick refresher in his music. I feel like such an event should mean something, but my feeble man-ape brain can’t comprehend the significance of this fated alignment. Someone tell Hawking! Someone tell Tyson! Someone tell Daruwalla! Someone tell the Dalai Lama! And The Pope? Mm, nah, don’t bother telling him.

Scaling things back to what’s important, Vari Chromo (translated as ‘various colors’ …or ‘lemur colors’? Huh?) was Mr. Montanà’s third and final album with Psychonavigation. Since then he’s flirted with a few different prints (Carpe Sonum, …txt, Projekt), and squeezed in a couple collaborative efforts with Alio Die and Mick Chillage too, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. If you might recall, I noticed a pattern with his previous solo outings, where the quality of his LPs would alternate between “eh” and “AY!” As we’re now in his fifth album, this should be an “eh” then, right. Absolutely not! Perhaps it was that Carpe Sonum record between this and Leema Hactus that was the downturn LP. May have to dig further into this flimsy theory.

But nay, Vari Chromo is indeed Mr. Montanà’s sixth record, and another darn good one at that. He’s added a couple new items to his sonic palette, one of which being sporadic piano passages. I honestly don’t recall hearing him use the ol’ ivories in any previous album, though considering I’ve still yet to take in those Labyrinth albums with Pete Namlook, I may have simply missed them. Look, they’re darn expensive, what with being double-discs that include a 5.1 mixdown option, a hopelessly useless feature for yours truly as I remain stuck in renter’s purgatory (damn you, unaffordable Vancouver housing!).

As per most Lorenzo albums though, we get a nice assortment of ambient techno, crisp skittery beats, and charming melodies that’ll melt your heart. There’s a couple moodier numbers too (Spoot, Tek Kyah), but nothing too off the beaten path. Vari Chromo also finds Mr. Montanà indulging outside his comfort zone, Hy-Brazil worming a little Latin rhythm into his click-glitch beats, Green Room feeling the ethereal flow, and Anya taking on the modern classical stylee for good measure. Then just to show off, Lorenzo drops a twelve-minute long space ambient cut, with cosmic pads, subtle acid burbling, and all that good, vintage Fax+ vibe old-schoolers will never tire of (*cough*). Is it too much that I demand collaboration with Carbon Based Lifeforms after hearing this?