Maxx - Get-A-Way

Blow Up/Quality Music: 1993/1994

I never bothered with Maxx's debut breakout single because the copies I always saw in my neck of the woods didn't look appealing. Music-wise, I mean. There's no way that cover art is getting by without at least a casual glance, if not outright gawkery. Just, damn! Eurodance was never shy about its sex-appeal, but even this use of curves and shadows was pushing things ever so close into risque. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah.

So Get-A-Way was everywhere, a true classic in a year when eurodance was spoiled for hits. This naturally led to a slew of remixes, but the roll-out was rather weak. Even as a teenager with limited income, I knew getting only three tracks wasn't that good of a deal – all those 2 Unlimited singles I got had at least five. Now, that No More single, that's got some beef to it, and how can I resist remixes with names like “Terrordome” and “Paradise Garage” on them? A sight better than Twilight Mix or 2 A.M. Club Mix.

Get Get-A-Way I did though, as it was an option in a CD single bundle I happened across. Figured I may as well give it a shot, as these old eurodance EPs oftentimes contain some buried, trance-leaning treasure. Sadly, that's not what I get here, the 2 A.M. Club Mix essentially the same as the famed Airplay Mix, but with certain key features missing. None of the buzzy basslines, none of the bleepy leads (instead replaced with panflute toots), and none of that silly 'hardcore' orchestral sting in the song's bridge. Instead, everything flows smoother along pads, with piano lines in the bridges. What's funny is for the longest time, I thought this was the original version, at it was the one featured in my first exposure to it, on Dance Mix 94 (the club-dance compilation series in Canada). Ain't no way things like 'correct track titles' were a thing, and was shocked to hear the original had more similarities to No One than I thought possible.

Still, I cannot deny being a little disappointed in discovering this was it all along. That adorable 'shuffle dance' YouTube video with 2 A.M. Club Mix in the title led me to believe it was a little more bang-on. I'm not even sure if that is an official remix, as I can't find anything that sounds like it.

It does include elements of the Naked Eye Mix, specifically the bouncier synth lead that meets half-way between the original's bleeps and the 2 A.M.'s flutes. In fact, 'bouncier' is the best way to describe this mix – speed it up a bunch, and it could be happy hardcore. As for the Piano Remix, the same piano fills as found in the 2 A.M. rub get full shine, but isn't much different.

Really, the only Get-A-Way remix you should scope out is the (once) UK-exclusive Red Jerry Remix, because c'mon! The co-founder of Hooj Choons, remixing Maxx!

Yamaoka - A Frozen Stream

Carpe Sonum Records: 2018

It's been a couple years since I last talked about Yamoaka, plenty of time to have dove deep into his extensive back-catalogue. Sadly, I have not done so, which is weird given how much I enjoyed his collaborative album with Purl, Simple Songs. I must have been so wrapped up in Purlmania (really, an extension of Silent Seasonmania), that I overlooked Yamoaka's contributions to that album as something worth further exploration. I can't even cop to grabbing A Frozen Stream as the start of my course correction, nabbing it because the striking cover art caught my attention in another Carpe Sonum Records raid. But man, after listening to this one, I definitely need to do more digging into Yamaoka's discography, his Databloem material at bare minimum.

And what exactly is the Yamaoka stylee? Looping music done on the fly, for the most part, with a heavy dose of echo such that his sounds tend to create rhythms of their own, while melodies shimmer in a staccato fashion. Most would name-drop The Field or Gas in comparison, while I naturally refer to Rapoon. None are entirely accurate though, Yamaoka finding his own niche with such techniques. Whereas the others often use samples, lending their loops to a more angular feel, Yamaoka crafts his live, creating a natural flow in his tracks. His contributions to Simple Songs certainly stand out now that I know what to listen for, Purl's work reliant on backing pads in dubby treatments in that album. A Frozen Stream is Yamaoka on his own, so less of that, but still just as much of a trancey journey.

Aaah, not the 'j' word! Okay, yeah, that's overselling things a little. This is all just a little too abstract for a proper journey album, but each piece is a lovely little ride while they play. Some are rather upbeat without relying on much of percussion, if at all (Shaman, Three Stairs), while others use sparse kicks, toms, and hi-hats (Reply, MB (Short), Room (Fade In), leading the music into the domain of melodic, hypnotic techno. Or ambient techno. Or neo-trance. Whatever you prefer.

There's also a few pure ambient pieces on A Frozen Stream but even these have subtle looping elements to them rather than traditional drone. Tracks like White Out and Seat even hint at some modern classical touches in Yamaoka's repertoire, which wouldn't surprise me considering one of his Databloem albums is titled Short Films For Long Days.

The only real odd-man out on this lovely little album is On Switch, a track that is so rhythm reliant, I couldn't help but think of Amon Tobin as it played. It certainly has plenty of time to stretch, breaking the ten-minute mark and all. While some of the gentle, sparkly synth tones still lend a sense of tranquility to the track, the drums are drastically harsh compared to what's come before. Be prepared for a sudden whiplash should you choose to doze off to A Frozen Stream.

La Luz - Floating Features

Hardly Art: 2018

And so we come to a conclusion in my little excursion into the world of surf rock. As my music collection currently stands, I've no more items waiting in the never-ending queue, and it's appropriate La Luz brings things to a finale. They were the first band introducing me in my initial wanderings into 'nu-surf', and with the dust all settled, remain my favourite of all my samplings. Just a shame the band's been stuck on hiatus these past few years.

Of course, it's not their fault, the 2020 Pandemic putting a halt on the careers of many musicians. Small, underground artists especially felt the crunch, and while band leader Shana Cleveland did release a solo folk album in the interim, one hopes this forced interlude hasn't put a permanent mothballing of Lu Luz. There's only so many 'retro dream pop by way of contemporary surf rock' all-women bands out there.

More so, their last album was showing some growth in musicianship, leading to potentially fascinating avenues in the future. I've mentioned before the band's version of surf rock wasn't really what you'd think of traditional, in that their aesthetic didn't always reflect southern California vibes. For sure there's the dream pop attributes, but location more often than not influences art, and La Luz' Pacifc northwest heritage could not be ignored (erm, especially if you're intimately familiar with the lands). With Floating Features, the band looked to shake off some of that greytone, fully embracing the summery Cali sound, with a sprinkle of psychedelia.

You can just feel it from the opening few tracks on the album, things just a little on edge even as the production is more expansive than ever. The titular instrumental opener is big and strident, letting you know you're in for an adventure in sun-baked clime's rather than insular coastal forests, while follow-up Cicada quickens the pace some, sparing no space in the reverb. Loose Teeth gets fuzzier and full of guitar grit, and Mean Dream... Well, it sounds more like traditional mellow La Luz, but the music video certainly dips deep into retro substance shenanigans. Blacklights will never grow old.

Much of Floating Features carries on various dream rock vibes, Lonely Dozer and Don't Leave Me On The Earth the only other times things get 'surfy'. It's honestly hard pegging this album as surf rock though, as the reverb is much more vast than the frenetic shredding of the genre could allow. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if some folks get turned off by the grand sonics on display. It's certainly far removed from the basic garage production of earlier La Luz, but the song-writing is still top notch.

Whether we'll get another La Luz album remains to be seen. There were some personnel changes before everything was put on hold, but I can't imagine this being a final outing. Shana Cleveland seems far too motivated to end a band just because a global virus stalled momentum.

Casual - Fear Itself

Jive: 1994

You'd think every dope album from the Golden Age Of Hip-Hop would shine bright upon some wall of fame for all to see, but to this day, some records still get passed. True, my perspective is quite skewed from rap consumption habits that are, at best, lackadaisical. And yet I come across CDs that leave me stupefied over their lack of discourse, even among those who consider themselves 'true, proper, underground hip-hop heads'.

I can never claim to be one, but I'd like to think myself somewhat favouring sounds off the commercial path (chart-topping classics notwithstanding). Still, it took me a stupid amount of time to check out anything from Casual. I like Hieroglyphics, and all their associative output with Del Tha Funkee Homosapien and Souls Of Mischief. Why so long, then, in scoping out solo material from a member with just as much presence within the group as all these other MCs? In all honesty, I simply didn't know he had solo material of any significance. Maybe a mixtape or item released through the Hiero Imperium, but for whatever reason, it never clicked for me that he was a separate artist from Souls and Del.

Release albums he has though, quite a few of them, even making his debut on Jive back when that label pretended to give a damn about the Hieroglyphics crew. Fear Itself came off the heels of '93 To Infinity and No Need For Alarm, and features all the soul 'n' funk samples and trunk rattling beats you can expect of this era of Hiero. You'd think this would make Casual's premier a shoe-in for legendary status along those two, but I've seldom seen in name-dropped. Was it a commercial flop? Well, no more than the others, but sales never stopped records from becoming 'backpacker classics'. Was it simply lost in the shuffle of all things G-funk out on the West Coast back then? Perhaps a little, but No Need For Alarm dropped the same day as Doggystyle (!!), and folks in the know will always point to Del's album as essential.

The only thing I can think of is that Casual doesn't come off as flamboyant as his Hiero brethren here. Absolutely he holds his own for the duration of the album, and his sinewy, husky flow is easily identifiable. For all his sharp battle-raps though, I can't deny there's just a little something missing from Fear Itself.

Menace, that's it. Hieroglyphics were never 'thug' rappers, but Souls didn't mince words about getting up in your grill. And when Del sounded pissed, you believed he'd “chop your muther-fuckin' head off”. I don't get that same sense with Casual, coming off fun lovin' and, at heaviest, rough n' tumble. Like, Smilin' Mark Henry, rather than Hall Of Pain Mark Henry. He'd definitely get there, subsequent years in the de-e-e-eep underground battle-rapping sharpening his edge. This first outing remains solid though, a worthy companion piece to the early Hiero saga. Can't knock them vintage Domino beats.

Various - Fabriclive 93: Daphni

Fabric: 2017

*cover art brought to you by FabricLive's “beautiful carnivorous vegetation” period*

I did not expect this. An entry in Fabric's long-running series so close to its conclusion, already hitting the dirt-cheap discount bin? Why was the seller so anxious to be rid of it?

Well, this isn't a traditional DJ set. Daphni constructed something more like a live PA outing, mixing and looping house and techno rhythms into a continuous whole. Even then, calling Fabriclive 93 “continuous” is a misnomer, tracks often leading to a moment that abruptly switches into something different. Not in a 'mixtape' fashion either, the sonic palette too singular for that, which makes sense given these are all Daphni productions on display. It's why I'm getting my 'live PA' vibe, playing out in sections, drum loops coming and going without much mixing between them, plenty of points for beatless melodic indulgences.

It's all rather erratic. Any time things start shifting into higher gear, letting a dope retro-techno groove gain momentum, it's lost, only for something just as interesting to take its lead, rather than build from it. Things do get better as the CD plays out, but towards the end, I find my interest drifting, the promise of proper payoff so continuously snatched away. It's an interesting approach to a Fabric set, I must admit, but for those weaned on a traditional DJ rinse-out, this unorthodox approach can be a turn-off. I suppose we shouldn't have expected anything less from the one-time Manitoba.

Yes, yes, (or Ye Ye?), I know Daphni is Dan Snaith, most famous for his indie-darling project Caribou (he'll always be Manitoba to me!). Daphni was his outlet in getting back to the clubs, initially a side-project for material that didn't fit with Caribou, but eventually a primary alias for DJ tours. His debut album as Daphni was well-received, and I gave Ye Ye Ace Track status as it appeared on Get Lost 4. By 2017, Dan was dusting Daphni off again, and Fabric allowed him to spring-board back out onto the scene. Everything on here was fresh material when it came out, a solid third of the tracks featured in Fabriclive 93 getting expanded versions on the album Joli Mai later that year. Did some of them ever need it.

Why didn't' I just say all this from the start? One, everyone does the bio blurb at the start, so here's a different approach (seems appropriate). Two... ah, I actually forgot specifically who Daphni was at first, leading me to go into this set mostly blind. The name was familiar to me, but I resisted doing the research before the listening, as pure an experience as I could get – I didn't even look at the tracklist. When the odd set construction had me scratching my head, I relented and asked The Lord That Knows All what the deal was. Then, it all clicked, and I enjoyed Fabriclive 93 a little more, such as it was. Wanted to share that experience, yes?

Various - fabric 43: Metro Area

Fabric: 2008

*cover art care of fabric's “clay models on black” period*

It's been a lo-o-o-ong while since I last indulged Fabric mixes on the cheap. Too many of them resulted in minimal tech-house sets at its insufferably driest, but I've been feeling a bit nostalgic for those random chances. Plus, the series lasted well beyond that era, many changing tides of taste emerging since. Surely there's been a few in more recent years that have sunk to super-affordable prices.

Indeed there are, but I'll get to those later, for we're still in Fabric's 'early years' in this outing with Metro Area. This is actually a rather odd entry, the duo almost finished by the time this came out. Their breakout was half a decade old, and while folks had some fondness for their nu-disco jams, it didn't really spearhead a massive resurgence, clubland more enamoured by sample pilfering and filter-funkifying than anything authentic sounding. Thus Metro Area erroneously got lumped in with the 'electroclash' kids (because retro?), but despite DFA's approval, not quite fitting in with the disco punk crowds either. You could count on a track of theirs appearing on a stripped-back disco funk set, but sadly, Metro Area basically disbanded before the disco-edits scene would have made them super-stars.

Which is why seeing a Fabric mix from them in 2008 is so odd, the peak of their popularity well in the rear-view, but too soon for a nostalgic reminder. Was it because member Morgan Geist was set to release a long-awaited solo album around this time? I don't doubt it for a minute.

fabric 43 is wonderful though, in that it's a total love-letter to the music that influenced much of Metro Area's sound: the b-sides, dubs, and instrumentals of disco, funk, and garage of the early '80s. They dug deep for the unheralded, the unknown, and the unexpected. Like the Dub Mix of Ministry's Work For Love (yes, that Ministry). Or the dope bassline in Play By Number's Cloud Nine. Or the funky electro of Midway's Set It Out. Or the wiki-wiki guitar licks of Wiretap's X-Rated Man. Or the electro-pop perfection of Première Classe's Poupée Flash. Seriously, is there any music Belgian's don't excel at?

This mix is a retro trainspotter's wet dream, and Metro Area beef the production enough so things sound about as modern is they possibly could, but some outdated things simply can't be hidden. Like, good God, are the synth tones, few and far as they are, ever out of tune. They even rib on them a little in the intro, fully aware that even if the rhythms are dope, brace yourself for some woeful 'horn' sounds. Also, as we are in the early '80s, there are occasional ropy drums on display. Our guiding duo generally highlight the best parts of a given track, mixing out quickly, but you can still hear clunky echo effects here and there.

Hardly deal breakers though, fabric 43 definitely worth the pennies I paid for it.

Various - fabric 11: Swayzak

Fabric: 2003

When last I talked up Swayzak on this here bloggity-bloog of mine, I made passing wonderment over how their fabric mix sounded. In fact, I wanted to start a proper dive into their discography, and figured rounding up the rest of their DJ mixes would make for a good start. Um, this is about it. Yeah, Misters Brown and Taylor weren't really all that interested in the commercial mix CD market, and judging how their two primary outings fare, it's not hard to hear why: they just can't be fussed with the technical aspects of DJing.

For sure they can do all the blending and syncing and balancing if they want to - Groovetechnology V1.3 had plenty of sublime minimalist mixing going on. Sometimes though, a tune deserves to be played out in full, with a transition into something so different it defies anything other than a crossfade, so long as the music remains thematically consistent. Such is the domain of the mixtapes and third room 'chill' zones, of which Swayzak was quite familiar with in the early '00s.

Not that the fabric brand hadn't shown wilful genre hopping in the past, though that was more the purview of the Fabriclive offshoot. The mainline series generally stuck things out with tech-house in its early years, with occasional dalliances into deep house, electro or techno. Swayzak's offering was the first time fabric really stretched beyond such narrow confines, bringing in micro-house, disco punk, reggae dub, and even proto-fidget under one mix. Which probably isn't that big a deal, since we're still quite early in the series' lifespan, and couldn't ignore Fabriclive's eclecticism for long.

Cheekily, Swayzak open things up with a little Negativland, with the cheeky sampling of a doomsday cult rattling off all the evil rock bands of the era (which Fatboy Slim cheekily nicked himself). Michael Jackson, Tina Turner, Prince, Madonna, Billy Idol, Neil Young, David Bowie, Queen, Adam Ant, Billy Joel, The Police, Huey Lewis, “Weird” Al, and many more... heathens, all!

From there, fabric 11 carries on about as you'd expect of a Swayzak set from this era, chaps like Luomo, Mathew Jonson, and Akufen making the rounds. Midway though, things take a turn for the mixtapey, Röyksopp's slinky, dreamy rub on Felix da Housecat's What Does It Feel Like? played out in full. Then it's a crossfade to Rockers Hi-Fi's Push Push (yay!), blending into... Hey, Ciccone Youth! I recognize that name! Anyhow, here's LCD Soundsystem's homage to aging hipsterism, Losing My Edge, played in full.

Things kinda' jump all over the place afterwards, with sorta-electro (MMM's Donna), sorta disco punk (DFA's rub on Metro Area's Orange Alert), sorta-actually '80s synth-pop (Thomas Dolby's One Of Our Submarines), finally finishing off with ultra-twee bell-house from März. Pantha Du Prince likely heard this. They're fine tunes, but I can't deny hoping for something more consistent for a finish. Hard to top Losing My Edge though. Set peaked too soon!

Hypertrophy - Eternal Flames

Epic: 1999

I can't claim that Hypertrophy were massive mega-stars back in the day. It was certainly the most successful of Stefan Heinemann and DJ Thoka's collaborations, but even that success only yielded a handful of singles. And grazing through their compilation game, they seldom appeared on any of the Very Important collections of the late '90s, mostly relegated to one-and-done music shop shelf filler. The biggest trance DJ I see rinsing them out is Talla 2XLC, which isn't a surprise.

While their hits like Just Come Back To Me and Beautiful Day do plenty to trigger my nostalgia endorphins, I've always had a real fondness for Eternal Flames, specifically the Olav Basoski remix. One of those 'right place, right time, perfect feels' type of things, if you catch my drift. I'm mostly sated on having it on the Tommy Boy Silver showcase Planet Dance, but surely a tune released at the height of Hypertrophy mania would have a flurry of singles with even more remixes, right? Well, some.

I'd like to say I got this Epic version of the single because I wanted to explore other remixes beyond the Olav and Killerloop rubs, but that's not true. Nay, I nabbed it because it was an option among a bunch of other eurodance singles I could bulk buy, so gave it a shot. I hoped these other remixes would stand on their own merits, but honestly, it's nearly impossible to beat Olav.

The Fanatix Mix may as well be the 'original mix', and this EP has two versions: the short Sharp Cut and the longer CD Cut. It was a bit of a shock hearing its squealing lead synth again, being absent from the Olav mix and all. Also absent was Mona's silly monologue, but Eternal Flames is a bit of a silly tune overall. I can't hate on it though, the plucky synths and 'donking' offbeat bassline keeping things so perfectly tongue-in-cheek, I fall sway to the cheese. Besides, how can I hate on a monologue that references Praga Khan?

The Melodica Mystica Short Mix trances things up more, giving the gated stuttering synths more prominence. I'll never hate on those kinds of synths, so bonus points there. Beyond that, there's twinkly melodies, some Sash! plucks, and no donking bassline. Pleasant enough fluff, which I even prefer over the pure eurotrance of the more famed Killerloop Mix.

Still, I wonder if Epic had little faith in Eternal Flames, as the Junior Vasquez rub of Beautiful Day is tacked on here. I heard that remix all the time in my little far-flung corner of the world, giving me an impression Hypertrophy being bigger than they actually were. What can I say about it? That bassline is still far more menacing than any club trance tune has a right to be. The plucks are straight out of Sash!'s playbook. The bells still sound naff, but I can't imagine the tune without them either. Too many memories flood back at hearing them. Nostalgia overload!

Týr - Eric The Red

Tutl/Napalm Records: 2003/2006

I couldn't settle for just one Týr album. Unlike some of their Scandinavian brethren, however, the Faroe islanders don't have quite so robust a discography, only eight albums over twenty years. But if Sputnikmusik is anything to go by (I generally trust their opinions regarding metal), they're all of consistent quality, none dipping low, but neither peaking high. Well gosh, if that means I can always expect at least one song on the level of Land, it don't matter which one I nab.

In the end, I went with Eric The Red, mainly because I'm more interested in Norse history than Norse mythology, and Erik Thorvaldsson was indeed a real dude. If the tales of his exiles and exploits are embellished a little into song, that's all well and good. This isn't such a bad starting point for folks getting into Týr either, the band's first album with their most consistent roster, with Heri Joensen taking on full lead vocal duties.

Seeing as how Land came out half a decade after Eric The Red, I figured this album wouldn't be as epic or richly produced, the band still in the process of finding their footing. Nope, Týr comes in as finely polished as you could hope for a prog-metal band from a tiny cluster of islands (very good, is what I'm saying). Opener The Edge immediately hits you with walls of guitars, nifty drumming, a confounding time-signature, and Heri bellowing suitably grand, poetic lyrics about Viking things. While the mixdown isn't quite as full as heard on Land, the bass a bit buried under the guitars, its still crisp and clear, especially compared to some of the other examples of Viking metal I've heard from this era.

All well and good, but Týr's use of traditional Faroe folk music was what helped set them well apart from their contemporaries, and second track Regin Smidur gets in on that kick-ass metal chant. I haven't a clue what they're saying, but I don't care, quite eager to get in on that heavy bellowing action. Preferably with a stein in hand, banging on a table with equally inebriated Norse folk. Wait, isn't that an Irish cliche? Speaking of, it's weird hearing the Irish standard The Wild Rover on here. Týr perform it well enough, and I suppose the Faroe Islands had just as many folks of Celtic heritage as Norse migrating there over the centuries. Still a surprising moment of levity from a band that's generally all about the epic tales.

And epic tales are continuously told for the remainder of Eric The Red. Some of it sounds more like regular ol' metal rather than prog or folk inspired (especially the solos), but I'll allow it, Týr clearly still discovering just how far they can push things. The only thing that brings this album down is the inclusion of two bonus demos in the reissue, ending things on an unfortunate limp note when the titular song served as a fitting closer. Ah well.

Mick Chillage - Epinaz

Neotantra: 2019

Of course Mick Chillage would end up on Neotantra. Heck, if we include his work with Lee Norris as Autumn Of Communion, Mick's up to four LPs on this label. Keep in mind there's only been twenty-five proper albums released thus far, making him by far the most prolific artist there. What's scary is that's but a drop in the bucket compared to how many albums he's self-released this past year, many of them containing single, long-form tracks. I sense all these lockdowns gave Mr. Chillage ample time to explore as much experimental ambient music as he could handle, and then some.

Yes, we're in experimental territory with Epinaz, which mostly means fiddling about archaic equipment crafting abstract sounds and tones. There are some welcome melodic moments too, and even a few sequenced bleeps and blorps that could constitute rhythms, but if you don't have much of an ear for '70s weirdo synth music, you can probably pass this one. Heck, there are portions of this album where there's barely sound at all, the only noise seemingly the feedback hum generated by cables.

I honestly thought opener Zond was missing portions of its twenty-four minutes. It starts innocently enough with eerie cosmic synth tones harking to the experimental side of krautrock. It eventually mellows out, and you figure the composition will transition into a meditative piece. Then, almost dead silence, save some impossibly distant mechanical clanking and that feedback hum. I didn't even know this was going on when I played it on my regular speakers, Zond's ultra-minimalism blending in with the background ambience of my environment. It wasn't until I played this on headphones that I discovered what was going on.

Eventually a charming, sparkly arp lifts things out of abeyance, a simple rhythm joining the fray. Now, you think, this track is going places, but it all recedes again, returning us back to nothing but analogue fuzz. It's all a bit of a frustrating listen, especially with a four minute fade-out of near nothingness. Kind of hard to keep one invested in the rest of the album when nearly a third of it amounts to a big tease.

Carry on we do though, and Mick gets into more sonic oddities in the following set of tracks. At least there's more activity in them, and even some lush pad work in Prophets Dream and I've Seen Things. Whether you mind the atonal bloopy things going on around them will likely boil down to personal preference (I don't mind them ...much).

Short track Norge keeps things simple with synth pads, then Everything Ends takes us out with a blissy ten-minute outing that's more reminiscent of Mick's ambient techno works than anything inspired by the '70s. Almost worth the price of admission alone. Still, while there are some interesting things about the rest of Epinaz, I don't see many getting past that opener Zond to hear it. But in this age of streaming, who listens to full albums anyway? *cough*