Damon Wild - Cosmic Path

Infastructure New York: 2017

Damon Wild is the man behind Synewave, a very important label in the world of acid techno. While the Stay Up Forever posse were the main drivers of the sound in Europaland, Synewave kept the acid strong Stateside, all the while paying the usual homages to Detroit minimalism (as one must when making techno in America). The label had its niche, but because New York City wasn't really known as a techno-town, it never got quite the same exposure as the big prints out of the mid-west. So they kept chugging along, and Damon kept releasing records, on his own and as part of numerous collaborations, including with The Pump Panel. Yeah, that Pump Panel, though he didn't have a hand in their most famed remix. He was involved with their breakout single Ego Acid, so there's that.

Yet in all his years of releasing records, he seldom went the LP route. That makes some sense, the brand of techno he produces not really fit for the album experience. Still, sometimes a chap has more inspiration for a concept that just can't be sated with a 12” or two, so in the year 2017, nearly two decades after his first album Somewhere In Time, Damon Wild released his fourth LP, Cosmic Path. At this rate, he'll hit album ten by the mid-21st Century.

Naturally, I knew none of this going in. I only got this CD because I spotted it in the Ultimae Records shop, and thought it an interesting item based on cover art alone. Ah, the ol' impulse buy classic, never gets old. Thus I thought I might be in for some spaced-out goodness, and we do get that of a sort. I just wasn't expecting Cosmic Path to be so resolutely Detroit minimalist. Then again, Ultimae does host some Ostgut Ton records too, so I shouldn't be that surprised techno of this sort is there.

Still, I couldn't help but be surprised by how tracky this album is. It starts fine enough, opener 1242 all ominous drones and bleepy sounds, then Aquarius takes us off with a good thump of a rhythm, bassy pings and pongs echoing from deep space, and retro-futurism pads setting you off on cosmic bliss.

Following that we get a lo-o-ong stretch of that aforementioned Detroit minimalism. Looping techno beats, bleepy spacey sounds and not much else. It certainly sets a suitable mood, but feels like I'm listening to a run of warehouse tools. It isn't until track ten, Light that something resembling melody returns, thanks to more spacey backing pads. A couple tracks later, Space Race goes electro, and final cut Friday's Orbit slows things down some. Unfortunately, when so much of the preceding album is dedicated to faceless techno functionalism, such variety is too little, too late.

These aren't bad tracks, many of them reminding me of Planetary Assault System's recent offerings. They'd probably be better served as a continuous mix though, as most techno of this vein does.

Vector Lovers - Carousel EP

self release: 2016

Another of Martin Wheeler's yearly Vector Lovers EPs released through Bandcamp, though this unfortunately may have the fewest talking points. Solstice, Pale Blue Star, and even Road / To Ruin are more traditional EPs, a batch of four or five unique tracks, whereas Carousel is more of a single, one tune with different versions of it.

That in of itself is something of a talking point, most Vector Lovers singles having at most one remix to their name. Even in his Soma Quality Recordings era, very few of his tunes would have someone other that Martin provide a rub. Futures In Plastic, Microtron, Nostalgia 4 The Future were the main ones, plus a few others for a remix EP to coincide with Electrospective. I suppose you could count the 'remastered' tracks for that same compilation as remixes too, sounding rather different compared to the original cuts from many years past.

Any Vector Lovers track having multiple versions of it is rare, is what I'm getting at, and this here Carousel EP has four versions of its titular tune. I sifted through the bulk of his catalogue as archived with Lord Discogs, and this is the lone such item. Though honestly, it's only there because I submitted it (Solstice EP too, if I'm being modest), so whether there are other un-submitted examples out there, I don't know. I've just concerned myself with those EPs on his Bandcamp page. A strange fate I have found, chronicling Vector Lovers' Bandcamp singles within Lord Discogs' tomes.

The primary track is a fairly typical tech-house offering from Mr. Wheeler. Spritely melodies carry things along, while an unfussy rhythm with occasional splashes of white-noise wash keep a steady groove. It's almost proggy, back when prog was all about the minimalist twinkly sounds in the mid-'00s, which makes Carousel kinda' retro for a 2016 track. Definitely out of the norm for a Vector Lovers track though.

Carousel (Paris 92) is more in the usual electro wheel-house, the beat an odd soft thump that sounds like someone rubbing their foot along a carpet. Never mind that, it's the melody that dominates, a vintage melancholic bleepy electro ditty you can always count on Martin crafting. You'd think Carousel (Dub) would strip it out then, focusing more on the rhythmic portions, but no, the twinkly lead is here too, just subdued, more prominence given to the backing synths. I actually find this better than the original, but perhaps I'm just a sucker for the spaciousness of the sounds on display. Carousel (Ghosts) is the 'experimental' offering, minimal bleeps and tense strings teasing out the melody of the original. Some bell tones join in, but doesn't lead to anything of note before the track fades out. Definitely the sort of filler tune you'd find at the end of an album, or a B2 of an EP.

And that's all there is to Carousel. A nice tune with some decent variations, but little essential to the Vector Lovers canon.

36 - C45 Dreamloops 5-6

3six Recordings: 2019

Am I a hypocrite, liking 36's brand of overtly emotional music so much? I've gone on and on about how obvious sentimentality can turn other forms of music into hokey tripe (Dutch eurotrance the most egregious example), so you'd think I'd have similar thoughts on Mr. Huddleston's brand of ambient. This is a genre built around nuance and subtlety, freeform music making and abstract concepts. For sure Dennis does this too, but when he goes big on the emotional front, it's all in. Yet slide an overwrought breakdown and generic trance beat under some of these melodies, and I'd likely be rolling my eyes to the back of my head.

I honestly don't have an answer for this. Whatever it is that Dennis does with his compositions, it just hits that perfect sweet spot for yours truly, sometimes pushing close to the brink but never crossing that threshold. It's like the difference between perfectly crafted cheese, and a lump of dairy product that'll give you the lactose-runs. I suppose if a 36 track does get to be too much, I can always wash the palette with another D#m session from Michael Mantra.

But nay, I'm far from reaching that point with these Dreamloops. Even after four sessions and ninety minutes, the concept hasn't grown stale or run out of musical ideas. Yet here's Dreamloop 5, with a lovely three-chord sequence of layered pads that feels like the cosmos itself is doing meditative breathing, all the while a gentle piano plays along in support. That may sound New Agey, but something about the 36 stylee transcends such hokum, never sounding cliched or forced. And got'dang, when those airy choir pads emerge, escalating the emotional resonance within this piece, how can one not feel as though your soul's getting a good cleansing scrub? This keeps going for a full twenty-two and a half minutes, never growing tired or repetitive, only leaving this person feeling strangely refreshed in mind and soul. Hey, it takes a lot for me to get these sort of feels from music, and by gum, I ain't gonna hold back on the hyperbolic praise when it does.

I'm honestly rather thankful Dennis decides to tone things down a little for Dreamloop 6. There's definitely still an emotional undercurrent here, but doesn't quite build the same way the previous Dreamloops do. We're mostly in drone ambient territory here, synth pads harmonized in a warbly-warped sort of way (the authentic tape sound!). Different tones and timbre come and go throughout, the sparsest of piano occasionally heard beneath stretched melodies. And geez'it, that final, melancholy fade-out, sounding like a dirge coming from the catacombs of Cryo Chamber. How did this piece turn so dark and lonesome at the end? Considering how sparse the actual musical ideas are between these two Dreamloops, this EP sure takes one on quite the ride of emotions.

Perhaps a sad conclusion is fitting though, as this concludes 36's Dreamloops sessions. For now...

36 - C45 Dreamloops 3-4

3six Recordings: 2019

It's absurd how much of a 'tape industry' remains, isn't it? Vinyl I understand, the DJing circuit keeping it afloat long enough for a collector's market to emerge. How did tapes hang on though? Their initial unique features – portability and home recording – were completely and utterly usurped by the digital age, MP3s doing all that tapes could, and more. You'd think the market for blanks, much less professionally produced copies, would have utterly died by the 2010s. Yet here we are in the 2020s, the medium clinging on by the slimmest of margins. I wonder if there was some warehouse filled to the brim with unused blanks, just waiting for the time when a website like Bandcamp would emerge, suddenly creating a collector's demand curiosity for a format time would rather forget.

And it feels weird that there are two music formats I will never own for practical reasons. Vinyl is understandable, records bulky and expensive, but surely tapes are no more inconvenient than CDs to store. I've no means to playing them though. Sure, I could go out and buy a tape deck and hook it to my home theatre system, but why would I want to invest in an inferior playback device? Just to have a physical copy of something? I'll admit, there was a time that line of thinking might have worked on me, but I've since come around to digital if no CD option exists. Plus, with a Bluetooth hook-up to my main system, I can now play those Bandcamp exclusives on the big speakers!

Not that I'm saying artists shouldn't toy with whatever formats they wish – I'm no arbiter of what must be done for time eternal. I'm just wondering if I'm getting the full, proper Dreamloop experience by not hearing them as played from tape. Am I denying myself some ultimate listening euphoria in bypassing all that analogue hiss and occasional warping from repeated plays? Oh, what the heck, I'll take the digital. This music's great no matter where the sound originates from!

Anyhow... Dreamloop 3 carries on with the opulent layers of drone, but instead of relying on escalating loops, ol' Dennis gets his synth soloing on. Not that you didn't get a sense of him playing these live in the previous Dreamloops, it's just more pronounced here. Some five minutes in, they synth soloing dies off, letting a subtle twee-bleepy melody play. Most 36 tracks would end around here, maybe fading off, but no, we're only a quarter way through! Can he somehow maintain interest for the duration? Damn straight he does, though the synths do get to be a bit much towards the end.

Fortunately, Mr. Hiddleston dials things back some for Dreamloop 4, a piano melody the main focus while one of those vintage 36 heart-tuggers glides in the background. Oh dear, I hope it doesn't start taking centre-stage. I... I don't know if I could handle that much feels. Aahh, there it is... Fighting... manly... tears...

36 - C45 Dreamloops 1-2

3six Recordings: 2019

I'd seen these Dreamloops plenty of times while browsing 36's Bandcamp, but didn't give them much thought. Not that they didn't intrigue just a little, but as they were specifically designed as tape releases, I figured them another of Dennis' more idiosyncratic indulgences. Then I noticed they were on Spotify, so gave them a listen and... oh. Oh my! These are wonderful! Heck, I'll even spring for digital, since I've no use for tapes (they're all sold out anyway). Six tracks, each around twenty-two and a half minutes long, essentially a double-LP album then. Will probably be a bit on the pricier side as far as digital buys go, but it's worth it. Wait a tic'... There isn't a 1-6 option for Dreamloops, only the original three EPs? I mean, I don't mind paying for them separately either, but dear me, now I have to do individual reviews of each one.

The concept behind Dreamloops is simple enough: maximize the playing time of a standard 45-minute tape, a single composition per side. Indeed, this was how most ambient was produced in its underground scenes (shaddup, there was underground ambient scenes ...you just hadn't heard of them). It's just... a perfect length of time, twenty-so minutes. Stupid CDs and streams, making things longer than they need to be, all because the space is there.

Still, I did initially wonder if this would work in the 36 stylee. Part of Mr. Huddleston's appeal is that his ambient songs typically don't endlessly dawdle. I've checked out a few from him that breach the double-digit mark (Seconds & Forever the most prominent to my recollection), and I'm sure there's more in his discography. For the most part though, his music gets in quick, hits you with the big feels, then gets out before they overstay their welcome, even when you want them to linger longer (Sine Dust forever and ever...). Can these Dreamloops hold my attention in a similar fashion, or will they simply fade into the background, lulling me into a half-attentive daze?

Since I did spring for all six of these, that should answer the question. I mean, how can you not instantly get swept into the gentle lullaby of a melody in Dreamloop 1? It may be repeating the same simple notes over and over, but with the accompanying pad and soft rhythm that sounds like a spongy metronome, it's remarkably hypnotic such that it holds your attention for as long as it plays. This isn't a static series of loops though, grander pads building in intensity as the track carries on, giving Dreamloop 1 a startling sense of urgency for something supposedly intended to relax you. It's as though Dennis is forcing tension out of you before easing you back out. Dreamloop 2 is more straight-forward, getting in on that opulent space ambient vibe I so much enjoyed in Sine Dust, and never grows old even as it keeps going, with plenty of gentle lead-out. Cosmic dreams ahead, Captain!

ACE TRACKS: March 2021

And that's the bulk of my 'B' albums done! Wow, only a tiny portion of my original music collection remains to be reviewed now, that first clutch of 'C' album. I can count them all on three and half hands! On the other hand and a half, there's all these new items I've gathered in the meanwhile, a huge pile that'll probably take me through the summer to get- (*receives word that music festivals are cancelled again this year*) ...that will take me into the summer to get through. Man, it's so tempting to just knock off those remaining 'C's, but I've spent a decade getting to this point. There's time for another lengthy detour. Plenty of fun stuff to get into there, believe you me.


In the meanwhile, here's a heftier ACE TRACKS playlist than recent months. Being more productive rules!


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Nacht Plank - Broad Tape Band

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 27%
Percentage Of Rock: 5%
Most “WTF?” Track: Not any particular one, but there definitely are some wild tonal clashes between songs.

Ah yes, the return of the 'Too Many Incompatible Genres' playlist. Most of my early ones were like that, back when I was reviewing music from a much wider assortment of items within my collection. When newer purchases, and thus more refined tastes, started dominating things here, this was no longer such an issue, though I cannot deny some of those recent playlists did sound rather homogeneous.

Maybe I could arrange these tracks with more structure, so the flow together better, but eh, I can't really be bothered. Besides, how can you not adore the absurdity of a playlist that goes from Lars Leonhard into Nine Inch Nails into The Oak Ridge Boys into Westside Connection into Perturbator? It so wacky!

Harold Budd - By The Dawn's Early Light

Opal Records/All Saints: 1991/2018

Harold Budd was responsible for some of ambient music's seminal albums of the '80s, but as that decade drew to a close, one could sense creative stagnation creeping in. The White Arcades was a lovely record of minimalist piano and synth tones, but territory well covered by that point. Budd felt it too, so when the '90s took form, he started embarking on roads distancing himself from the sounds folks were pigeon-holing him into.

The first of these 'experiments' was By The Dawn's Early Light, wherein he assembled four other musicians to Daniel Lanois' New Orleans studio-house. These included viola player Mabel Wong, harpist Susan Allen, guitarist Bill Nelson, and steel guitarist BJ Cole. Ah, sweet, the ol' slide guitar making a comeback into Harold's music, bringing back shades of Afar from The Serpent (In Quicksilver). Oh, more than you know.

The concept for this album was something of a challenge for Budd, in that he was inspired by the assorted half-finished poetry lines he'd written over the years. He wanted to build music around these, invoking feelings the imagery the words conjured, mostly of youthful Americana dreams in dusty California outbacks. Would he use these to create lyrical songs though? And would he have his assorted musicians clinically recreate music he'd write for them, or let the improvisational nature of his jazz background be a guiding force? Well, this is a Budd joint, so obviously the latter. Besides, he'd chosen these particular musicians for their ability to improvise. Simply give them an outline of what he wanted from each instrument with each piece, and let the creativity go from there, their simpatico vibes and chamber music ambience of Lanois' studio-house leading the way.

The poetry portions bookend the album, with an 'interlude' midway, which work wonders in selling the idea of this being more a narrative art piece than just simple music. Boy About 10 starts, with those distinct Budd piano strokes and soft acoustic guitar, then the viola solo starts and... and... oh. Oh my...

So... Harold Budd passed away from COVID complications this past winter, which I honestly didn't know until coming to this album for review. He was 84, so not that much of a surprise he might pass from any variety of ailments. Still, with that knowledge, then hearing this melancholy viola solo, meant to invoke remembrances of Harold as a boy dreaming about a wide world before him... I cannot deny my throat chokes up with such sadness, yet a love for a man's work I've only had a general fondness for.

I really don't know what else to say here. The rest of By Dawn's Early Light gives each musician a chance to perform in a subdued manner, pieces never lasting longer than they need to. There are nice moments about, others more like half-formed sonic sketches. Nothing quite hits me with the same emotional wallop Boy About 10 does though. I don't know if any of Budd's music ever will.

Boogie Down Productions - By All Means Necessary

Jive: 1988

It really is bonkers just how much of a game-changer the year 1988 was in the world of hip-hop. Even the lamest of laymen know the classics dropped: It Takes A Nation..., Straight Outta Compton, Strictly Business, Follow The Leader, Eazy-Duz-It, He's The DJ, I'm The Rapper... So many more I could name, such that it's not surprising that something like By All Means Necessary could so easily get overlooked. Yet the second album from Boogie Down Productions was a game changer all in its own right, one of the earliest examples of conscious rap. There were examples of street commentary and lyrical prowess before, but not to such an extent KRS-One brought here. The murder of your friend and producing partner would have that effect.

Not that BDP was glorifying violence on Criminal Minded, but right from the jump in My Philosophy, you can hear a change of tone in Mr. Parker's lyrics, presenting himself as The Teacha. Whereas before he'd show off his lyrical ability as street poetry, here he's using his verbal dexterity for higher thoughts, opening the minds of those who'd listen. These aren't the words of some street hood, but an individual who's studied why the streets are the way they are, and taking those to task who'd rather wallow in the bliss of ignorance. Small wonder he's posing as Malcom X on the cover art.

That's not to say he doesn't have things to say about the systemic issues in late '80s America that lead to such troubles. Stop The Violence rants on about the double-standards living in The World's Greatest Nation entails, while Illegal Business gets into complicity of police forces in the drug trade, taking bribes from peddlers to keep selling that crack to junkies. He even gets into some safe sex shenanigans with Jimmy, though in more a playful manner than the other tracks. Hehe, heh... “ding dong”...

It's not all soap-boxing though, KRS-One devoting just as much time to battle-rapping throughout the album. Whether still calling out wack MCs (Ya Slippin'), getting his braggadocios on (I'm Still #1), or railing against commercial sell-outs (Part Time Suckers), he's got plenty of shooting barbs. And while he's at it, may as well continue alternating between Bronx boom-bap and dancehall toasting, further proving one need not be limited in rapping delivery. Heck, the final track is basically a beatnik poetry outing.

Speaking of beats, in honour of the fallen La Rock, most of them retain the simple DJ cut-n-scratch or reggae bounce as he produced in Criminal Minded. While the extended BDP crew gets the credit, DJ Scott does get an 'Overseen' credit too. Aww, ain't that nice. Wish I could get as hype for the beats though, their dated attributes quite apparent when stacked against what The Bomb Squad was doing with Public Enemy at the same time. Not that it matters. By All Means Necessary is mostly about KRS-One's rhymes, and rhymes he delivers, yo'.

Lars Leonhard - Burning Clouds

Ultimae Records: 2014

A bit of unfinished business here, tackling the honest-to-God last item from Lars Leonhard in my music collection. Will it for really-reals be the last thing I ever review from the chap? I cannot deny feeling plenty sated on his discography at this point, but there's still more releases to his name that I haven't checked out. All those astronomy-themed albums of the past couple years, that one collaborative record from his BineMusic days, not to mention numerous EPs and single-track outliers. Reviewing Lars Leonhard music could forever be unfinished business, insomuch as reviewing all the music I own could forever be unfinished business. In my present state, however, with something of a natural conclusion drawing closer, Burning Clouds does indeed appear to be the final item I'll be covering from Mr. Leonhard for a while. It's only the twelfth one.

The second of two EPs Lars did for his brief stint with Ultimae, I was initially a little hesitant in getting this one. Stella Nova was the no-brainer, if only because of the wonderful cover-art. It was a perfect representation of the label's dub-chill direction as any, with Lars leading the way. Released the following year, Burning Clouds didn't quite capture the same sense of awe from yours truly, so kinda' passed me by, until I sprung for it out of Ultimae completionist sake. Finally listening to it though, I find this one better out of the two.

Warmth. There's no better word to describe it. Dub techno, but its very nature, tends to be a rather cold and sterile genre, an intriguing counter-point to the surrounding sonic depth dub production tends to create. There can be warm textures in dub techno, but you're then treading into ambient dub's waters. What I'm getting at here is while Stella Nova was fine as another collection of downtempo dub techno tracks from Lars, the clinical nature of the genre could still be felt. Like, sounds and effects perfectly placed, the waves of reverb carrying with it a polished-chrome sheen. And, if I'm being honest, the sort of style I instantly attribute to Lars' overall discography, despite plenty of examples to the contrary.

So I went into Burning Clouds expecting more of the same, but no, there's actual warmth to these three pieces, as though the techno attributes have been softened and given a soak in a steam room. Real dub, yo'. Songcraft wise, the titular opener does the usual minimalist downtempo tune I expect of most Leonhard tracks, just warmer. Halos has more techno sounds, including a very subtle bit of bleepiness that I couldn't help but think of ancient Artificial Intelligence. Still, that softening of the edges is present. And Northern Lights...

I never thought I'd say this about a downtempo dub techno track, but you know that feeling of pulling a light blanket over your body, completely enveloping your senses from a cool evening in its warmth? That's what it feels like listening to Northern Lights. Seems appropriate.

Red Fog - Buried On Vanth

Reverse Alignment: 2015

I've had this album for a couple years now, and it still vexes me. Because there is no trace of the title on the cover art, I keep thinking the album's called Red Fog. Which is weird for something that appears to be cosmic drone, but dark ambient's gone to plenty of strange spaces. After some coaxing though, I remember that the artist's name is Red Fog, and this is his album Buried In Fog. No, that's not right. I mean, it'd be the completely logical assumption, but doesn't make sense since this is clearly something with a cosmic lean. Ah, it's Vanth Red Fog is buried in. Uh, what does that mean? Like, is 'vanth' some sort of state of mind? Oops, my brain still hasn't figured it out yet. It's Buried On Vanth, as in a place. Gosh, is that some made up planet within a larger Red Fog lore, where Enceledus' southern pole is serving as a stand-in? Maybe I should Wiki this...

Ah, Vanth is an actual place, a moon to the trans-Neptunian object known as Orcus. Huh, I didn't even know such a Kuiper belt dwarf existed. My attention is always drawn to the famous ones (Pluto, Eris, Sedna) and the funny-named ones (Makemake, Gonggong, Quaoar, 2006 HJ). It does have a unique resonance with Neptune's orbit, and essentially sits opposite of Pluto in its solar orbit, giving it a nickname of 'anti-Pluto'. Fascinating stuff, and I can see why Red Fog would find inspiration in dark ambient drone set in such a remote, obscure plot of frozen wasteland.

Okay, enough of the astronomy course. A cursory search didn't reveal much about who Red Fog is, but he/she/they have been active this past decade with various digital items out on DNA Production, aReW recordings and, ooh, Arecibo Records. Most of Red Fog's material comes with cover art that's quite red indeed, save a couple wintery items and... a Neon Room? Well, can't say the project isn't diverse in its dark drone concepts.

But yes, this is very much a pure drone outing, with tracks at double-digits in length slowly evolving with open spaces and minute sounds. For something that claims to be 'buried', I didn't get a sense of claustrophobia with these pieces, but it sure was difficult making out details from the near-total lack of light. It does feel like you're being kept in cryo-stasis, patiently waiting for the great thaw to awaken you from your slumber, an almost calming effect upon your psyche.

Then, in the final track Wired Through Spectral Tranquility, a jolt of electricity knocks you out of your slumber. It's not quite enough to stir you to full consciousness again, as the piece ebbs back into subdued, minimalist dronescape, but you can't help but notice a slowly escalating tension to the sounds you hear. Suddenly, a whining sound like a starship reactor pierces the murk, then silence once more. Aww, I forgot to wave as it passed by.