ACE TRACKS: August - September 2021

I'll never claim to have the best laid plans, but I'd like to think I take most factors into consideration. Yet for all of my planning for the month of September, a small oversight here, an unforeseen circumstance there, and a crippling, hobbling of the self everywhere, all things that made for a very, very no-good bad time of a month. At least I didn't catch COVID...?

ANYHOW...

Actually, one thing I'm happy about is I think I've finally completed a personal project, one that I've been working on for the past decade. Maybe a smidge longer? It's nothing terribly significant to anything else in my life, but it is nice to know that it's done, no longer always lingering in the back of my mind as something that needs work on. As I enter the middle of my expectant life cycle, it's a strange notion that some things that tasked me in years past are no longer as relevant. And it does make me wonder, what's next? Like, there are still some old pet projects I've left drifting as other ones took my attention, but what happens when they all run out? Find something new? Hope something unexpected takes centre-stage? I dunno', just food for thought in a month that, for the most part, was the drizzling shits for yours truly.

Meanwhile, here's the ACE TRACKS from the two months:


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Beat Pharmacy - Safety In Dub
Sons Of The Subway - Ruff Rugged & Real
Higher Intelligence Agency - Reform
Toki Fuko - Spring Ray

Percentage Of Hip-Hip: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 0%
Most “WTF?” Track: The KMFDM tracks may cause some sonic whiplash.

So I extended making a playlist by a month to give a little more variety. Then I fail to actually review enough music to make enough of a difference. Okay, that's harsh, as the few extra tunes here do help pace things out better. I needn't beat myself up for dashing my own exceptions. Would have been nice to have some of that Silent Season downtempo dub in there though. Why aren't they on Spotify anyway?

Tom Tom Club - Tom Tom Club

Sire/Island Records: 1981/2009

I have to assume everyone reading this blog knows the story of Tom Tom Club by now. How the rhythm section of Talking Heads were encouraged to make a record of their own while the band was on hiatus, and instead of pulling a Peter Criss, they debuted with one of the funkiest disco reggae-dub records of the era. One that's endured to this day, with hit singles sampled in perpetuity.

Yes, everyone knows that story. Or so I thought, until just the other day. I mean, the timing of the following anecdote couldn't be more perfect, so I must share it.

I was playing Tom Tom Club's album at work, mentally making notes for whatever angle I might come up with for this review. Genius Of Love comes on, and as that extended groove at the end plays out, one of our younger staff strolls by and mentions, “Oh, hey, Mark Morrison's Return Of The Mack.”

Now, I know he's mentioning this to me as a way of showing off his music knowledge, that someone his age would be familiar with hits of the '90s or something. And I smile, because I'm about to blow his mind.

“Oh, no, this is the original version of that beat.”

“There's an original?”

“Oh yeah, it's been sampled lots. Originally came out in 1981.”

“Nineteen eighty-one!?”

“Nineteen eighty-one.”

“...geez, nineteen eighty-one...”

That, my friends, just goes to show how timeless this record is. Sure, you could quip some of the rapping in Wordy Rappinghood comes off corny, or Booming And Zooming is too weird to be any good, and lord knows this deluxe re-issue didn't need all those pointless remixes added. Damn though, Genius Of Love's irresistible beat. The peppy L'Elephant. The dreamy Lorelei (always loved that name). The charming cover of Under The Boardwalk. Plus an entire bonus disc holding the rarer follow-up Close To The Bone? How can anyone not vibe on this release?

Okay, maybe that last one isn't as great. I mean, it's nice to have it included at all, this 2009 release the first time appearing on CD, and Pleasure Of Love is a worthy single. Unfortunately, I can hear why Tina and Chris weren't as pleased with the album. After the serendipitous recording sessions of their debut (not to mention the fun Bahamas trip included with it), they hoped to repeat the experience in their follow-up. Unfortunately, things failed to click a second time (political revolutions outside the studio didn't help), the resulting album sounding stiffer and forced compared to its predecessor. Measure Up at least recaptures some of the original's magic, and The Man With The 4-Way Hip comes close, if not for the incessantly repetitive lyrics.

Whatever, it's the self-titled debut that remains the star attraction. If you still haven't heard it (*cough* younger generation *cough*), get on it and hear the roots of many a hit rap and R'n'B single.

KMFDM - Symbols

TVT Records/Metropolis: 1997/2007

This could have been my first KMFDM album, in another timeline. When Symbols came out (yes, I'm going with that – it's simpler), it was right at that sweet spot of having more music buying options, and my tastes still somewhat in flux. Bands like Fear Factory and Type O Negative were catching my ear just as much as anything from The Prodigy or The Chemical Brothers. I knew of Sascha K.'s band thanks to their soundtrack contributions, which would often be enough for me to explore further, if any of their music ever made it out into the Canadian hinterlands I resided. Surprisingly, Symbols did, and there's no way anyone could miss that iconic Brute! artwork. For whatever reason though, I passed on it, someone else ended up buying it, and that was the last anyone ever saw of a KMFDM CD in that town. Tale as old as time.

A shame, because had I nabbed Symbols when I had the chance, it may have changed my entire sense of self-identity. Okay, not really – being a 'raver' in ass-backwards Canuckistan was weird enough, so becoming a rivithead just wouldn't fly. Still, if any album had a chance at wooing me to the haXz0r-side, this would have had a good go of it.

Symbols is often regarded as KMFDM's 'electronica' album, where heavier influences from techno beats and synthy sounds override the shredding. No doubt Günter's guitar work sounds drastically reduced compared to previous albums, that rockabilly boogie and metal thrash that made classics of Juke-Joint Jezebel and Ultra is mostly absent, but he still has moments to shine. Spit Sperm shreds between the stomping arena-rock chants, while Mercy gets in a little woogie-wiggle. I wish I had more to say about the extra attention paid to the electronic side of KMFDM but I dunno'. Feels like the song-writing got overstuffed as a result.

As I understand it (via the re-issue liner notes), this album's creative process was a bit of a mess. All the band members had greater input, plus many more outside artists contributed to the project, which would explain why it sounds like so much more is going on. Meanwhile, everything but the vocals had to be redone in the studio when the original recording sessions were lost, and as anyone who's had to redo something creative can attest, it's almost never as good the further you get from that initial spark. Long time fans have claimed Symbols marked the end of peak-KMFDM, and hearing it in contrast to the tightly written previous three albums, it's hard to deny.

Fortunately, some bangers still keep the album in discourse. Anarchy remains a great anthem for those PO'd days, Megalomaniac will always have its fans thanks to Mortal Kombat, Waste reminds everyone the band haven't forgotten their odes to gabber, I've a soft-spot for Unfit's boogie, and Stray Bullet... *sigh* Could have retained classic status in another timeline.

Purl & protoU - Sub Life

Dronarivm: 2019

Oh my, this is a cross-over event I never even conceived of. Superman meets Spider-Man, sure. The Simpsons meet The Critic, absolutely. Dr. Octagon meets Deltron 3030? Well, I marked out. Purl and protoU though? Like, how did these two even cross paths, much less find time to collaborate on an album? True, Ludvig has had many pairings with musicians this past decade, though mostly remained within his domain of dubby downtempo techno. Sasha, meanwhile, has been dark ambient 4 lyfe, y0'. These are two scenes that almost never cross-pollinate. Yet here we are, a mega team-up extraordinaire of cosmic proportions, and other Stan Lee levels of hyperbole you can imagine.

Even more interesting is this happened on Dronarivm, the first time either have appeared on the ambient and modern classical print. Heck, it's the first time protoU has appeared anywhere other than Cryo Chamber. And while Purl has drifted among many labels (Databloem, Dewtone, Archives, etc.), he'll always be one of Silent Season's key acts in my mind. It's possible Ludvig would migrating to Dronarivm at some point, but seeing Sasha anywhere other than good ol' Cryo blows my mind.

Still, given the contents of Sub Life, I can't imagine this album appearing anywhere else. It certainly fits within the Moscow label's wheel-house, what with the atmospheric treatments and minimalist modern classical touches. It also sounds little of what I'd consider 'traditional' Purl or protoU music – no dense layers of dubby synths or cinematic dronescapes. For sure I can hear elements of both as Sub Life plays, but if I were to do a blind listen, I doubt I'd easily identify them, needing multiple hints getting there. (“Okay, one of these musicians has exclusively released music on Cryo Chamber...” “God Body Disconnect! Because guitars!”)

Five tracks averaging around a dozen minutes each makes up Sub Life, all following a relatively similar path. A moody bit of atmospheric ambient sets the tone, with field recordings and dronescapes creating a sonic setting rich in texture, but not so thick you feel suffocated by your surroundings. A mysterious, desolate valley in Trees And Stones, an open dale in Sub Life, the wind-swept dunes at the shores of a beach in Sacred Fluids, a crisp breeze through a billowing leaves in Recreating The Purpose. All quite lovely pieces of calming tones, sure to ease you into a deep slumber should you doze off to it.

But nay, the main thrust of each piece is a singular featured instrument, improvising away in that modern classical way this sort of music enjoys. You get the piano in Trees And Stones and Morning Light, acoustic guitar in Sacred Fluids, ethereal voices in Sub Life, and even a subtle mix of all three in Recreating The Purpose.

If anything, this album has the feel of a ballet, the two performers gliding among each other in fluid movements. Which is par for the course where Dronarivm is concerned, made more remarkable with the dancers involved.

Spicelab - Spy Vs. Spice

Spy Vs. Spice: 1996

And that's all the Spicelab albums gotten. Yes, as strange as it may seem, Oliver Lieb only ever released three LPs under this alias. You'd think there'd be more, what with it being his break-out project and all, one that helped define German trance in its infancy. It was something of a contentious one though, seldom getting much shine abroad, much less promotional push from Harthouse. Spicelab tracks were just a little too weird, a little too sci-fi pulpy, a little too unwieldy for DJ rinse-outs, especially so those lengthy album cuts. When L.S.G. became his most popular (and likely lucrative) project, it pretty much took all of Lieb's attention. So long, Spicelab, then.

As for why it's taken me so long to finally get Spy Vs. Spice, there's a couple reasons. One, it's not a very common CD. Ol' Oliver had to basically self-release the album, setting up his own short-lived Spy vs. Spice print to do so. Two, and it hurts to say this, but I kinda' already did hear much of this album many moons ago, and I wasn't especially keen on it. Oh, of course Spicelab was among my initial AudioGalaxy inquiries, don't act surprised. With so many out-of-context tracks failing to grab me, I let it slip to the recesses of my memory membranes. Maybe I'd give it another chance down the road if I ever found it on the cheap.

So I found a copy on the cheap, and perhaps with age and experience, I'd finally dig on what Lieb was doing with Spy Vs. Spice. Opener Spice Like Us bodes well, doing that vintage Spicelab thing of moody, atmospheric lead-in, settling us into the future-shock realm this alias doth often dwell. The rhythm's more on a tech-house tip (when such a thing was still being hashed out on Plastic City), just in a Spicelab-ey sort of way. Spice Peak and Glue Gun though, I dunno'. They sound like they could be great, leftfield electro and techno, but all the abrasive sounds on display just refuse to coalesce into something enjoyable.

Fortunately, the good ship Spicelab rights itself with the titular cut, a no-nonsense slice of pummelling techno where even the weird sounds make sense. Following that is Feathers, the closest thing to an obligatory progressive trance single this album has to offer. Even here though, the hook stubbornly refuses to play nice, playing out in quite the unconventional fashion. Or maybe I've just been spoiled by the Humate and TLBj remixes.

Bad Rabbit gets back to the earlier weirdness, but at least feels like it has some momentum behind it, while the final run of tracks close out with more traditional Spicelab trance vibes. Despite the difficult start, Spy Vs. Spice finishes strong enough to warrant a full listen. I can't really say it's a lost classic in the Oliver Lieb canon though, especially with L.S.G.'s Volume 2 being released that same year. Even the Spicelab 'influenced' cuts on that album are better.

Toki Fuko - Spring Ray

Silent Season: 2019

Not to get all 'I remember when...' on y'all here, but we truly live in a remarkable era of music consumption. Used to be an album was the same no matter which format you sprung for. It wasn't long before musicians and their labels realized certain formats could hold more music than others, so you'd get 'bonus tracks' on a CD over a record. Then the domain of digital exclusives burst the dams like never before, albums of obscene lengths that no one in their right mind would ever want to listen to in single sittings. Okay, such monstrosities are uncommon, but for those weaned on physical medium, it can come off excessive.

Toki Fuko's debut on Silent Season doesn't go to those extremes, but Spring Ray does have a rather quirky roll-out. The vinyl version contains four takes: the original, Deduction, Outtake, and Reshape. Each eat up one side of a record, making it a double-LP. Meanwhile, the CD features just two tracks of its own, Induction and Spatial Awareness. Whereas the vinyl tracks were about a dozen minutes each, these last a half-hour each. So clearly, exclusive to the CD, though there was room to add at least one of the vinyl cuts too. Why not at least the original? Guess Silent Season wanted each medium to be unique, or maximize sales across all formats, but don't worry! Folks who abstain from one physical item over another (*cough*) can get them all with the digital version!

And how does Spring Ray sound to warrant so many interpretations? The original certainly is in Silent Season's wheel-house, a spacious, dubby outing of laid-back grooves and subtly shifting sounds, a general sense of tranquility while lost wandering among mysterious, moss-covered rainforests. It doesn't seem like much to hang an additional ninety minutes of music off of, but this Toki Fuko (real name Sergey Korotaev), he's a crafty one in his studio.

Deduction keeps things firmly in the Silent Season stylee of chill dub techno, with a bit more urban flair added with subtle samples of city sounds. Outtake has a jazzier vibe going for it, what with distant trumpets and chants, all the while rhythms looser in their swaying groove, and Reshape... Gosh, is this ever a meditative slice of tribal, dubby music. For some reason, I keep thinking Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia, even though PWoG only seldom went this chill. I can easily see myself grooving to this outdoors in some primal gathering though, crusties jamming on jembes while chai is brewing nearby.

By contrast, the two thirty minute versions don't have as much to talk about. Induction takes elements of the original and Outtake, and stretches things out for an extended jam, while Spatial Awareness does the same but in dub techno's domain. They're both solid sessions, at no point feeling like Fuko's aimlessly wandering as the tracks play out, even if they can't help but fade into the background. Which given Toki's musical manifesto, may be the point.

Rapoon - Song From the End Of The World

Glacial Movements Records: 2016

Just another dark ambient album, that's all this was meant to be. I've reviewed countless of these, enjoyed most of them for their sonic narratives and explorations of dronescapes. I've even let my mind drift into escapism with some offerings, into realms while not hospitable, certainly provide solace in sensory deprivation. I certainly never let them 'get to me', affect my mood to such a degree that I need to step back for a bit, come back when I'm of better frame of mind. Much, much later. That Rapoon fella' though, he has a way of getting under your brain, tapping into parts of your psyche that seems all too willing to surrender its autonomy, utterly succumbing to whatever vibe he's crafting. And if that vibe happens to be an 'end of the world' motif, well, you can imagine that having the effect of bringing down your whole day.

Not that this isn't untapped material where Robin's discography is concerned. A good chunk of his Zoviet France days was spent twisting tapes into a weird, hypnotic cacophony of post-industrial horrors. As his career transitioned into Rapoon, however, his sonic travels generally drifted further away from such bleakness, at times even coming across jubilant while still adhering to those most primitive of musical instincts. By contrast, Song From The End Of The World sounds like a return to those roots. Not to say that Mr. Storey hasn't dabbled into Zoviet France styled stuff between then and here – I can't claim to have heard every Rapoon album – but of what I've listened to, this album re-captures those apocalyptic vibes quite nicely. And by nicely, I mean terrifying.

He doesn't waste any time getting right into the thick of it either. We Travelled In Waves does that warping loop-craft much of Rapoon's music entails, this time with a bleak piano and bell tones endlessly repeating while white noise hiss marinates everything in a suffocating stench. This goes on for quite a while, before abruptly shifting into eerie, twitchy minimalism, and discordant orchestral swells, all the while maintaining that hypnotic repetitiveness. When the piano returns, it's almost a sigh of relief, remarkable considering how unsettling it sounded at the start.

And it only gets more hopeless from there. A Listening Ice sounds like wailing wraiths trapped under Antarctic glaciers. A Sky Beckons Down brings in ghostly voices and tongues. A Prophecy Lies Under adds an orchestral to all the chanting. An Answer In Ice twists sounds in such a way they sound like flesh-ripping polar winds. And to tie things up, The Sky Dances In Green lays everything to waste. Serious 'World Of Ruin' vibes with this one, lasting well over eleven minutes. Take that 'leap of faith', Celes, you're better off.

It feels weird recommending Song From The End Of The World. It's not a headspace one should actively indulge in. If you're at all curious of the psychological power of dark ambient though, by all means give it a go.

The Summer That Was Too Much: An EMC Update

Looks like I'm skipping a Playlist this month.

Normally, I set myself a minimum of ten albums per month if I'm to create a decently rounded Ace Tracks Playlist, which I did manage for August. However, between a few items unavailable, and a general dominance of all things Bent and Namlook already on it (with a hefty side portion of HIA), it wasn't looking too interesting of a playlist. Need more variety to spice things up, so I'm letting it slide.

Which is a shame, because for a short while there, I thought I'd regained some writing momentum. All those hot death-domes finally seemed past my corner of the world, and wouldn't you know it, it's much easier to concentrate at a keyboard when you're not dying in the fire of a thousand blue stars. Now we just contend with excessively warm, humid muggy weather. Y'know, like a proper rainforest, none of those cold-ass, moss-covered taiga ones. But 'things' and 'stuff' always seem to come up these days, putting writing efforts on short pause while it gets sorted and dealt with. Such is life the older you get, I guess. No wonder most folks put off their passion hobbies until retirement. They have no choice!

Swayzak - Snowboarding In Argentina

Medince Label: 1998

Ridiculous that it took me two decades to finally get this album. I'll grant a general lack of info regarding Swayzak's discography in those post-discovery years, though not for a lack of wanting. I'd never have nabbed that Groovetechnology v1.3 without their name attached to the double-discer (!K7 Records association didn't hurt either). It wasn't that long after that The Lord That Knows All clued me into the rest of their catalogue, but for whatever reason, I kept kicking the can further down the road. Some hesitancy from dashed expectations, perhaps? It wouldn't be the first time I fell sway to the charms of an artist after hearing just a couple tunes, only to be let down by their expanded selections. Still, I can't go wrong with at least returning to the source, Swayzak's debut album that helped turn the ultra-niche dub techno sounds into something the tech-house crowds could vibe on.

I know it's a massive cliche to say it, but there really wasn't much else like Snowboarding In Argentina before it dropped. Tech-house itself was still in its feeling-out years, unsure how much techno it wanted in its house, then along comes something that strips things down further to its grooviest, toasty elements. Even Basic Channel, dub connoisseurs they were, remained fixated on techno's functionalist elements. Swayzak's all like, “Nah, guv, you gotta' put more 'sway' in that sound, Zachary.” I really hope that wasn't how they came up with their name.

Right from the jump in Speedboat, you sense you're in for a bit of a different ride than the expectant norm of ye' olde year 1998. Deep synth pads, crisp tight rhythms, pinging chords echoing down alleyways, an ever shifting track for its lengthy duration. All well-worn tropes of micro-house in the following years, true, but quite unique for its time. Follow-up Burma Heights keeps the 'deep house by way of dub techno' vibe going, while Low-Rez Skyline and Fukumachi envision late night cruises through classy metro streets. Damn it, future car commercials...

Elsewhere, Swayzak show off their downtempo chops with Blocks, their stab at a dubby trip-hop outing because late '90s. French Dub goes even deeper into the low-ridin' lane, and while Redfarm tries matching, its gets a bit too silly with its dub exploration. Also, because late '90s, here's a stab at d'n'b in L.O.9.V.E. Just couldn't resist chasing a few trends, eh lads?

Which became something of a criticism with Swayzak's later albums, especially with their forays into synth-pop. Whatever, we're still with Snowboarding In Argentina, so here's Bueno, a fourteen minute closer of goovey tech-house. Why, it could fit in a prog-house set, especially with that genre's growing interest with tribal-dub as well. Heck, it'd even sound good in a modern set. Despite so many artists jumping on this bandwagon, Swayzak's debut still stands strong all these years (decades!) later. This album really shouldn't be memory-holed, but the burn-out on 'minimal' has unfortunately rendered it somewhat forgotten now.

Motionfield - Signals

Neotantra: 2019

When I said, “Then suddenly, Motionfield”, I wasn't just talking about his music within my CD collection. The year 2019 saw him release three albums in the span of six months, a remarkable feat considering he'd only released one since his debut on Carpe Sonum Records four years prior (a self-released one at that). Not that Petter Friberg hadn't been productive before. Even in his obscure '00s days, he'd put out at least one album per year. With greater exposure comes greater inspiration (so long as one doesn't suffer from crippling anxiety), a chance to spread your muse abroad. So what better way to do so than offering up albums on the primary movers and shakers of your selected scene?

Actually, it isn't quite right to call Neotantra one of ambient techno's Big Labels in 2019, having just launched and all. For sure it carried a strong pedigree being a sub-label of Fantasy Enhancing, itself an off-shoot of Lee Norris' long running (if somewhat static) Neo Ouija. And as has been abundantly clear on this bloggy-bloog of mine, that's a pretty good pedigree indeed. Sure had to be tempting for many artists to get in at ground zero, especially those looking to establish more presence among dedicated music collectors.

So Motionfield sends his Signals through Neotantra, and according to Yage_2097 of the Discogs Community, it's among the 150 Best Of 2019 of The World's Greatest Ever Electronic Music Albums. Eeh, maybe need to pare that down a little. Misters Jazzual and dove_m have it in their Top 25. Ahh, better.

As for myself, I cannot deny being a little apprehensive going into this. I quite liked Luftrum, and the other albums I've picked up from Motionfield seem to have clear themes behind them. 'Signals' could be anything though, music making for its own sake. When it comes to ambient, that often translates to a lot of ephemeral fluff, pleasant as it plays but never really sticking to the memory membranes after. Well, I certainly don't have to worry about that with Signals 1. Despite a generally tranquil, dubbed-out, almost 'hauntology' backing pad work, that low bass tone always has me adjusting my speakers, lest I royally piss off my neighbours. Signals 7 too, though by the time that one comes on, I'm usually too zonked out on mental bliss to care.

Yeah, Signals is one of those albums that feels almost too calm, ambient music where there's interesting things going on with the drone tone, static glitch, and subtle looping melodies, but man, do I ever zone out on it. Individually, all these Signals are quite lovely, some even inching towards 36 levels of opulent feels (Signals 6, 8, and 10), if not in sheer musical weight.

Unfortunately, as I worried, the lack of a specific theme among these tracks does tend to blend them together, and that's when it can even hold my attention for the duration. Such an odd thing, enjoying an album that doesn't stay with you.