Various - Frankie Bones: You Know My Name

Moonshine Music: 2000

Yeah, I know your name. He knows his name. Odds are super-high that even you, dear reader reading this, know his name. I mean, you better, considering I just did a review of another mix CD of his a month ago. Still, there are some who don't know his name, even with it right on the cover.

When this CD dropped, I was working at a music shop with free range to order whatever I felt we needed. Moonshine Music were easy items to get, which I'd let sit for a few weeks before nabbing them for myself. You Know My Name hung around for a while, few giving it much attention, but a pair of teen girls were browsing the store, noticed the CD with Frankie's smug Brooklyn mug looking back at them, to which they said, “Like, as if we'd know his name.” Kids those days, I swear.

You Know My Name was to be Frankie Bones' proper break-out into the lucrative field of DJ mix CDs. For sure he'd been releasing them for a half-decade by the year 2000, though most remained in underground obscurity. United DJs Of America was probably his biggest national exposure in the CD market, and even that set was in service of a running series, forced to rub shoulders with other DJ talents. He had a couple other runs on Brooklyn-based X-Sight Records (Factory 101, Computer Controlled), but Moonshine Music would give him his highest profile commercial set yet, with many more sure to follow as with such previous techno luminaries like Carl Cox, and, um, DJ John Kelley? DJ Brian? ...DJ Micro? Y'know, Moonshine was actually kinda' hurtin' for proper techno mixes over the years. They needed Bones' brand of bosh more than ever!

And he gives them exactly that. After a little skit of a girl arriving at an underground party (I love it when Bones opens his CDs like that), he drops a recognizable anthem in Mario Piu's Communication (sans cheese-ball phone samples), then it's off to the races. Strictly 4am bangin' faceless techno bollocks, served in Frankie's uncompromising Brooklyn style (I've written that phrase before, haven't I...).

In fact, it's almost too uncompromising, music that's all about the relentless assault, things like hooks or melody an afterthought. There's sections that'll get your attention, like the weird noises of Black Lung's Gizmo, abrasive voices in Terrence Fixmer's Electrostatic, red alert sirens of D-Factor's Barana, and whatever phrase is getting looped in any of Bones' own cuts. I can't say much of it sticks with me after though. Frankie's mixing is quick, letting tracks play out a few loops for a couple minutes before moving on. Get in, get out, Get The Fuck Up, as the Bones tune says. Good fun while in the dingy warehouse district in the wee hours of the night, but kinda' monotonous while sitting at home sipping tea.

After this, Bones retreated from the mix CD market. Guess the Moonshine experience soured him on that scene.

Tiga - You Gonna Want Me (Remixes) (Tocadisco + Van She)

Different: 2007

I have absolutely no idea why this exists in my music collection. Okay, obviously I got myself an MP3 rip of it, so that's why it 'exists in my music collection', but moving beyond the pedantic observation, I'm struggling to remember the reason I got it in the first place. Most likely it was intended for a TranceCritic review, as those were the only times I'd get singles between 2005-2009, but why this? I suppose we were seriously lacking Tiga material, especially after missing out on Sexor the year prior, so maybe while spotting this among the new monthly releases at Juno Records, I put in a request from our music-nabbing guy for a 'copy'. Why not just do Sexor though? No, wait, that's an easy answer, the unfortunate necessity for proper music journalism only ever focusing on the newest music, never backtracking unless via re-issues or gimmick entries. I hate that about proper music journalism.

In a way, this version of You Gonna Want Me was a backtrack of sorts too. The original EP came out pre-Sexor, one of that album's lead singles. It did fine, with remixes from Isolée and Jesper Dahlbäck, but didn't hit quite the same high as Pleasure From The Bass or (Far From) Home. Folks mostly forgot about there being a single for this tune, except for one chap, a Roman Böer de Garcez, more famously known as Tocadisco. You definitely remember him.

After breaking out with his remix of The Egg's Walking Away, Tocadisco became one of the hottest electro-house remixers throughout the mid-'00s, perhaps only rivalled by Stuart Price. Mylo came calling. Deep Dish came calling. New Order came calling. Todd Terry came calling. Even ATB came calling, by which point Tocadisco didn't give a rat's ass anymore (so sayeth the cheeky remix title). However, he still found it within his heart of hearts to give Tiga's You Gonna Want Me his own special touch, two years after the single first dropped.

Tocadisco's remix does what a Tocadisco remix typically does. Thumping heavy beat, big build with the chorus looping, and a chunky, farty riff replete with stutters and white noise wash. You've heard this sort of track tons of times, but then he did help set the template. The Van She Mix is more interesting, getting on that disco punk, thrashy Ed Banger sound. Dear Lord though, do they ever milk that second build for ludicrous lengths. In fact, the second half of it is just one long build, with a pitter of a release lasting a couple bars after. Probably a fun track to DJ with, but at least the Tocadisco Remix actually delivers on its promise of a big dumb electro drop.

Think that's why I skipped doing a TC review on this – there's just not much worth talking here. Not when such important items like One + One, Something To Live For, Elements Of Life and History Of Hardstyle 4 were on my plate.

Banco de Gaia - You Are Here

Six Degrees Records: 2004

You Are Here is Banco de Gaia's worst album.

I was tempted to just leave it there, move on, and eat up self-imposed word count with discussions of puppies, or kittens, or puptens, or kitpies (surely merging all that adorableness will result in something uber-adorable!). Besides, while it's fun to tear into utter crap EDM or banal trance bollocks now and then, it's lame getting hyper-critical like some edgelord YouTuber at my age, especially if it's with regard to an artist I actually like. But then I got wondering, why do I dislike You Are Here so much? While I enjoy most of Toby Marks' music, even I cannot deny he's thrown up a few dud tracks along the way, stuff that doesn't move my mojo in favour of his mint material. This album though, so much of it just feels regrettably off to my ears, such that I need to unpack this, understand why I rank it so low in Banco's discography.

Where to begin? How about the thing that's immediately noticeable and casts a shiny, slick, sucky sheen on everything: the mixdown. You know how there's a difference between a rock album from the '70s, and one from the '80s, in that the latter often sounds flatter and stripped of analogue warmth? That's what it's like listening to You Are Here compared to every other Banco album. Dear Lord, but does it ever sound digitally flat to me, as though the soul of Marks' music is completely absent. So many bass textures are DOA (glaringly so on Waking Up In Waco and Not In My Name), that it makes sitting through them a cringing chore. This, from a musician who can have you hanging on every second in a half-hour-plus excursion through Kincajou! Even Marks must have realized this digital mastering wasn't working for him, as he went back to an analogue mixdown in his follow-up Farewell Ferengistan, with much improved results.

That leads me to my second point: I can never remember how the back-end of this album goes. After the radical tonal shifts between the twelve-minutes long, slow blues-jazz croon of Gray Over Gray, into the cheeky pop-house romp of Tongue In Chic, the remaining three tracks of You Are Here always and utterly evaporate from memory, sometimes even right after they've played. This is the only Banco album where that happens to me! No matter their quality, every tune on every other album sticks in my brain meat, but Not In My Name, We Are Here, and Still Life? Fifteen years on, and still nada despite many attempts.

Then there's the heavy-handed political sloganeering (even for a Banco album), the genre dalliances that never led to future explorations, and that initial nagging dread that, after 10 Years, Banco de Gaia might have nothing left in the creative tank. Thankfully, You Are Here proved more an aberration than a trend, so I'll end on a positive note: Zeus No Like Techno remains good stupid fun.

A Cryo Chamber Collaboration - Yog-Sothoth

Cryo Chamber: 2017

Some time ago, I quipped that, in their relentless rate of output, Cryo Chamber would eventually release an album for every letter of the alphabet. As yet untapped, I even suggested 'Y' being a likely contender in their near future, perhaps for one of their massive collaborative projects - there had to be some Old World denizen with a name starting with the letter they could draw inspiration from. Indeed there is! Not that I knew it existed, mind you, my knowledge of Lovecraftian lore generally gleaned from pop culture references (you know you got it made when South Park is riffing on you). Still, when the label announced the release for Yog-Sothoth, you bet I double-taked.

This... had to be sheer coincidence. Like, the artists involved must have been working on the project well before I joked about such an occurrence going down, right? But, what if it's not? What if, somehow, someway, I influenced these men and women into taking this creative path? How can that even be possible? Do my words transcend space-time, existing outside our universe to shape the trackless river of our plane of reality? Might a future-Me have used my time machine to whisper intents upon unsuspecting composers? What else might I do with this awesome and terrible power? What must I do...?

*ahem*

I skipped out on the last Cryo Chamber Collaboration because, at 3 CDs long, Nyarlathotep came off overstuffed for what I'm willing to take in these concept projects. Yog-Sothoth pares things back to a tidy two discs, but includes a nifty booklet with artwork, quotes, and scriptures within a hard-cover case – makes you feel like you're opening an ancient tome. Sixeteen of the twenty artists involved I've covered in some capacity, so here's a list of those that are new to my eyes: Gydja, Kristoffer Oustad, Darkrad, and Neizvestija. They range from Norway to New Zealand, truly encompassing what it means to do collaborative work in a globally flat digi-space.

Yog-Sothoth itself is regarded as an even Older One than that attention whore Cthulhu, existing outside our universe as an omnipresent gatekeeper between realms (insert whatever 'gatekeeper' meme you wish). The music here generally reflects that, in that each artist doesn't so much lead you on a continuous journey, but offers glimpses between different moods, tones, locales, and vistas. Though I'm hardly versed enough in each musician's style to tell who's piece is currently performing and when, there are noticeable transitions throughout each hour-long composition. Dark and foreboding passages will lead into droning soundscapes with field recordings, sometimes followed upon by minimalist melancholic melodies, and so on. Some transitions of tone are so apparent, Yog-Sothoth honestly at times comes off more like a compilation or continuous mix of individual tracks rather than a singular piece of varying elements. Which solicits the question of, on a conceptual level, where does the former end and the latter begin? Depends how many people are involved in the ongoing creative process, I suppose.

The Field - Yesterday And Today (Original TC Review)

Kompakt: 2009

(2018 Update:
Haha, look at 2009 Sykonee, throwing around the word 'trance' so casually in this review. Yeah, The Field's music is far more trancey than most things in the realm of tech-haus, but that's always been part of Kompakt's manifesto anyway. The pseudo-genre 'neo-trance', neighboring genres taking on trance elements, is a better descriptor, or if you want to be really daft, 'shoegaze techno' (there's a lot of daft folks at Discogs, by the by). Also, where was I going with that Underworld comparison? Sure, Willner's rub of Sasha's Mongoose on The EmFire Collection fit the bill, but not so much here.

It's weird to remember that, at one point, The Field and Burial were held in the same regard among music critics. The proof is in Metacritic's own aggregation, From Here We Go Sublime and Untrue both still holding top honors for "Best Of 2007" music, even above Radiohead's In Rainbows! However, one is constantly referenced with reverence, even getting documentaries made about it a decade on, while the other does not. I guess folks felt The Field's brand of music-making was too singular for a plethora of copycats to emerge from it, leaving Mr. Willner to carry on doing his thing to this day with little fanfare anymore. So it goes for many techno heroes of the '00s.)


IN BRIEF: Evolution.

Axel Willner had quite a thankless task in replicating the critical good-will of his debut LP From Here We Go Sublime, so it’s just as well he hasn’t bothered to try. His sophomore effort is carrying on as usual, as though that top spot at MetaCritic’s “Best Of 2007” doesn’t exist. And why should he care? Yes, the album was quite good, but reading several of the reviews, you’d think this was the first time the rock journals had heard trance music. Then again, it wouldn’t shock me if it actually was the first time many of them had heard trance music, at least of the non-epic variety. Surprising such folks who’d forgotten that electronic dance music could actually contain endlessly looping lovely melodies doesn’t seem that hard in this age of electro-glitch (has it really been so long since Boards Of Canada released Music Has The Right To Children?).

So obviously much of that initial love affair has subsided, and the buzz on Yesterday And Today hasn’t been anywhere near as enthusiastic. Oh, it’s received good scores - as it will here - but now that Willner’s tricks are familiar, the press seems far more subdued in its praise. It’s a shame, then, that Willner has managed to bring some fresh wrinkles to The Field that will go relatively unnoticed.

Touring with just a laptop for his ‘live’ shows must have felt highly constricting to ol’ Axel, as he’s brought in a few extra musicians to the studio to liven up the proceedings this time out. Drumming journeyman John Stanier is the most notable addition, along with one Dan Enqvist, whom brings an assortment of backing instruments to the fray (bass, guitar, piano, vibraphone). A few more rounds out the cast and what we’re given is a richly textured sound that tickles your ears at several frequencies while maintaining that loopy Field structure.

Oh, still not sure of what The Field even sounds like? Think Emerson-era Underworld, though without Karl Hyde’s nonsensical lyrics. The titular track on here alone is very much in the Underworld-vein, with an infectiously groovy rhythm and spacey synth work sucking you into a lengthy trance-trip. The 90s comparisons don’t end there, however, as final track Sequenced is very much like early ambient dub as championed by The Orb, though lacking Dr. Patterson’s odd sense of stoner-humor. Meanwhile, The More That I Do could easily draw Loop Guru similarities, with its tribal stomp and repetitive chant.

These are far from nostalgic love-ins or rehashes, mind, but if you’ve ever paid attention to EDM from the 90s, Willner’s tunes will bring back such memories of the era when similar material was getting massive play from all the British DJs. About the only track here that escapes a 90s comparison is Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime, primarily because it’s a cover of an early 80s song from synth-pop act The Korgis; granted, it’s given a fine contemporary spin to fit within Willner’s sonic palette.

Somewhat annoyingly, and not just because it makes this album review shorter than most, Yesterday And Today isn’t terribly long. Sure, the six tracks offered are worth your pennies, and it certainly doesn’t feel like it ends all too soon, but when the musical ideas are purposefully limited, it’d have been nice of Willner to indulge us a little more. There’s almost a care-free jazz-fusion jam-band approach to these: most of them just start and keep going from beginning to end, improvising around the basic melodies along the way.

Yesterday may not be as initially, er, sublime as Willner’s debut, but it is a worthy follow-up. By adding extra musicians to The Field, he’s made his sound more organic and nuanced. Here’s looking forward to album number three.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic, 2009. © All rights reserved.

Yes - Yessongs

Atlantic: 1973

For some – okay, many - this is Peak Yes, a collection of live recordings cribbing tunes from their best Phase 1 albums with most of the classic line-up intact. After this, they'd release Tales From Topographic Oceans, where casual folks finally had just about enough of prog-rock's highfalutin sense of self, and the personnel changes would come often. Heck, they started right in the middle of these tours, original drummer Bill Bruford replaced by Alan White on the fly. Considering ol' Alan's stuck with the band longer than anyone not named Chris Squire though, shouldn't he be considered the official Yes drummer over Bill?

Also, how crazy must that have been for Mr. White to get thrown into the band's overtly complex compositions with almost no prep? He was already an experienced drummer with The Alan Price Set and The Plastic Ono Band, so he adapted fine, but still. Just as well the lone drum solo in this 3LP set is one of the few Bruford recordings, towards the tail-end of Perpetual Change. Don't worry, Alan, you'll get many opportunities to shine in the ensuing decade.

Naturally, a pretentious rock band has to open their pretentious concerts with nothing less than a pretentious excerpt from Igor Stravinsky's Firebird Suite (Tomita must have noticed), but it does serve a wicked lead-in for Siberian Khatru. Following that, all the Yes classics show up: Heart Of The Sunrise, Roundabout, Close To The Edge, Yours Is No Disgrace, And You And I, plus plenty of solo showcases along the way. Can't deny the synth-dork in me gets all atwitter over hearing Rick Wakeman doing his thing on various keyboards in Excerpts From “The Six Wives Of Henry VIII”, and Chris has plenty of funky bass jams on a lengthier rendition of The Fish (Schindleria Praematurus). Plus how can you deny all that awesome shredding from Steve Howe! So much shredding from Steve Howe, just so much...

As for actual differences between these live and studio versions, everything on Yessongs feels looser. Sometimes it can throw you off, especially if you're used to hearing the perfectly polished studio takes, but once the band locks into their groove and go off (the crescendos in Heart Of The Sunrise, the sonic freak-outs of Close To The Edge, etc.), it's quite the exhilarating ride of musicianship.

If any song makes perfect sense in a live context, it's Starship Trooper. The Life Seeker portion is a chipper, happy piece, then goes into the reflective Disillusion, before heading for the final stretch of Würm, quite possibly the greatest 'dumb rock-out' composition in Yes' entire discography. The hook is stupid simple, instantly lodging itself into your brain matter, and it just builds, and builds, and builds, each band member getting solo action along the way before ending on a huge musical high. It's like an awesome, extended, in-the-zone Neil Young & Crazy Horse jam, but with tons more technical skill that never loses its soul of rock 'n' roll.

Yes - Yes Remixes (2018 Update)

Rhino Records: 2003

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)

Boy, did I hedge my bets in that old review. I was already reaching out on a limbful of good graces even attempting a Yes review for a one-year old trance review website, but I had all this honest-to-God enthusiasm for the Remixes project, see. The concept alone blew my mind like so many Star Trek twists, that anyone would feel inspired enough to recreate songs famed and obscure by prog-rock elder statesmen for an audience that probably didn't exist. Like, ain't no way the old timers who were down with Yes since the Peter Banks days would have much interest in hearing these songs all danced-up, nor would the clubbing masses give a care either. Who does that leave, then?

For sure there's the absolute die-hard Yes fans that must consume everything the band's ever put out (and all the concert bootlegs), but just because they got this album out of completist obligation doesn't necessarily mean they got the album either. There may be some Boomer music enthusiasts that are always on the hunt for the strange and esoteric, who embraced every bit of electronic sonic weirdness from the earliest musique concrete through krautrock and ambient, and all the way into the era of IDM – they do exist, though not in significant numbers.

Finally, I suppose there's dudes like me, younger generation types who enjoy the techno boom-booms as much as the prog-rock of yesteryear. I don't know how many of us there number, only familiar with two others in this demographic: Virgil Howe, the son of Yes guitarist Steve Howe, and the guy who made this album of Yes remixes, plus Mark Prindle of Mark's Record Reviews: An Interactive Site Featuring Music Critique By Mark Prindle And Music Fans The Worldwide (Founded 1996 – Retired 2011) fame. I assume there's more though, just because us kids mid-life adults are more accepting of new musiks than them old peoples are. But don't you Millennials dare sully Yes' legacy with your mumble dubwave racket, by g'ar.

While I was so totally down for Yes Remixes ten years ago that I'd sneak in a TranceCritic review for it, I can't say I've returned to it much since. I mentioned that, more often than not, you're gonna' turn to the original pieces, or maybe live renditions, over a one-off experimental concept as on offer here. Yes, it's cool hearing Tempus Fugit rearranged into catchy, looping hooks befit of pop radio, Wurm of Starship Trooper turned into a d'n'b tear-out complete with Moog solo, or the shorty Five Percent Of Nothing cut up from samples and extended into a regular length song, such that it stands on its own as a piece of music rather than a gimmick. Unfortunately, that's all Yes Remixes ultimately comes off like, a gimmick. Respectful, oftentimes clever, and even enjoyable on its own merits, sure, but one that's only worth a spare indulgence. There's just so much other Yes music to consume, see.

Various - Y9: Nine Years Of Psychonavigation Records

Psychonavigation Records: 2009

It's been nine years since this label released a 'nine years retrospective', and the tale of Psychonavigation Records has since been... colourful. At this point, the print's been reduced to little more than an outlet for Keith Downey's No Mask Effect albums, though they did finally release that Sea Biscuit reissue first announced over a year ago. Come to think of it, that's a tasty little ambient techno classic I wouldn't mind having. Bet I can find the Astralwerks version for a good price on Amazon these days...

As a label retrospective, Y9 is a curious item. Who celebrates nine years of business? No one, for no other reason than the Western world demarcates the passing years by powers of ten: decade, century, millennium, etc. Thus ten years of activity is a recognizable achievement, while nine years is not. Maybe that's unfair to nine, and really, any length of time maintaining a project beyond a couple years is an achievement of sorts, but there's this lingering sense that, if you could do it for nine years, why not push for that extra rep of ten? It's just over the horizon, one Gregorian calendar away. Did the Psychonavigation Records crew of 2009 not figure they'd make it to year ten for some reason? Simply wanted to buck the convention for the sake of quirkiness? Is there more significance to nine years than ten in Irish folklore?

Whatever you want to say about their business practices, few discount the musical talent Psychonavigation Records brought in over the years, and Y9 is as handy a showcase of that as any. It touches upon all the genres they dipped their fingers in, from the early jazzy trip-hop dabblings (Buckminster Fuzeboard's Local Tone, Aza & Eoin's Miles & Miles, P.P.Roy's Cop Theme) through the ambient and Boardsy nods (Gel-Sol's Your Day In The Sun, Enrico Coniglio W & J Theme, Seán Quinn's I'm Here (Twice), Ciaran Byrne's Curtain Moon).

And while acts like Roddy Monks and Eedl gave the label an early in with ambient techno (from which they'd almost exclusively continue promoting), back then Psychonavigation was commonly rubbing shoulders with shoegazey indie sorts like Soul Gun Warriors U-Mass and Tiny Magnetic Pets (I swear I've heard the tragic-twee pop of Spinning before). This stuff kinda' went overlooked as the label's lifespan carried on, but it does paint a picture of a print willing to take chances on just about anything flying under the radar. Heck, Rarely Seen Above Ground's Talk Back Crawl Back is some straight-up boppin' garage rock, featured on a double-LP outing called Organic Sampler, and primarily performed by one man, Jeremy Hickey. That's dope, yo'!

Of course, my musings on Y9 are irrelevant, as it doesn't appear available on any official outlets anymore, so odds are slim folks will find this CD. Some of the artists do have their own Bandcamp pages though, so if any of this music intrigues you, do 'em a solid and scope out those options.

ACE TRACKS: February 2018

Whoo, not only did I finally polish off that seemingly endless backlog, but knocked off another main letter too! Yeah, it was only 'X', but gander: five albums made up that little block, which is more than pathetic 'Q' ever had. The next three largest letters in my collection are 'Y', 'J', and 'Z'. Kind of surprised 'Y' doesn't have many albums, as you'd think more artists would title their works with a 'You'. They sure like that 'No', tho'.

But yes, that means, after sixty-four months and nearly 1,400 reviews, the end is in sight. Baring complete societal collapse, I should be able to finish within the month that which I set out to do so many years ago – to listen to every item in my music collection in alphabetical order. Only... I won't be finished, will I? There's a whole new backlog that's been forming even as I was going through the last one, with at least a couple month's worth of material to work from. Not to mention the clutch of albums that make up “#, A, B, & Ck” that I never wrote reviews for. Can't forget those!

So yeah, even though I should wrap 'Y' and 'Z' by spring, I'm not finished, not by a long shot. I'm also considering a couple additional ideas, but will touch upon those later. For now, here's the ACE TRACKS for the month of February 2018:


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - United DJs Of America, Vol. 3: Josh Wink – Philadelphia, PA
Various - Rewind: Taylor – Resonance
Various - United DJs Of America, Vol. 14: DJ Soul Slinger
Various - X-Mix-2: Laurent Garnier - Destination Planet Dream

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 7%
Percentage Of Rock: 7%
Most “WTF?” Track: Always the everlasting Oak Ridge Boys.

Obviously none of the X-Mix or United DJs Of America series are on Spotify, but aside from some of the oldest editions, plenty of their tracks are. Of course, if you really want to hear those X-Mix albums, the full VHS rips are on YouTube as well, so no excuses!

Because of the huge spotlight on those CDs, techno and house dominate this playlist, with a couple token glances of trance, progressive, rock, rap, synth-pop, ambient, downtempo, and country. No dark ambient though, which has to be a first in, like, forever. A very '90s sounding playlist, all said, even from the more modern tunes included.

Sasha - Xpander EP (2018 Update)

Ultra Records: 1999

(Click here to read my original TranceCritic review)


Feels like this has been a lo-o-o-o-ong time coming, the last of my earliest reviews needing a proper overhaul. Technically, that's not true, another from those first few shaky months of TranceCritic writing lurking down (up?) in the 'A's of my album collection. Doubt there's much anticipation for another Eat Static review though, whereas everyone's always interested in another take on Xpander. Especially when one's original take is a grotesque word salad of amateur track-by-track detailing.

Frankly though, there's not much I can expand upon the Xpander discourse (except bad puns, clearly). The tune holds up astoundingly well two-decades on, still sounding light-years beyond what its prog contemporaries were offering, and there was no lack of bombs from the year 1999, believe you me. I mean, obviously the big synth leads and twinkly melodies are the memorable features, but mang', listen to what's going on in that rhythm too! What even is that burbling, churning low-end? Not the bassline, that's for sure – it's just superficial fluff, yet the sound design on it is astounding! Is it any wonder folks were hot for Airdrawndagger to drop if that level of detail was put into a big, obvious anthem like Xpander? Imagine hearing such music for a whole album's worth. No, really, keep imagining it – we never did get what folks were expecting with Sasha's final LP effort.

It's not like Mr. Coe had to craft such an exquisitely produced track with Charlie May. When this single came out, it was more in service as what was expected of top tier DJs of the time. No matter how deep your crates, how impeccable your track selection, or how masterful your mixing, the punters of the world demanded a signature anthem to your name. Digweed had Heaven Scent, Oakenfold had If I Could Fly, Tenaglia had Elements, Tiësto had his remix of Delerium's Silence, and so on. So too it appeared the case with Sasha's Xpander, the requisite anthem folks going to his shows could happily expect to hear every time. Only he overshot, and now the tune is getting orchestral remakes. Take that, Digweed!

The other tunes on this EP were obviously overshadowed when Xpander first dropped, but have gained more respect over the years for not being as blatant as the main track is. If anything, it showcases where Sasha's muse more generally wanders, never quite coalescing into something easily identifiable while plucking traits of personal favourites of his past. Belfunk's got that chuggy, proggy groove before melting into Orbital, morning-after bliss. Rabbitweed gets in on that ominous prog-breaks business with shades of Way Out West thrown in – and again, just an insane amount of detail in the percussion. Baja provides the lengthy chill, comedown vibe with ethnic samples and dubby percussion. Huh, y'know, under another producer's handle, this could have passed for psy-dub. Never noticed that before. Oh, the strange alternative timeline we could have lived in had Sasha been swayed into the psy camps instead.