Burial - Tunes 2011-2019

Hyperdub: 2019

Folks were so anxious to hear a third LP in the wake of Untrue, they didn't realize Burial had low-key released a double-LP's worth of material in the decade since. However, it was scattered about some seven singles, so never thought of as a singular listening experience. If only there was a way to consolidate all that music into such a format. By golly there is!

I kid, but honestly, Tunes 2011-2019 is quite handy for the casual Burial listener. While I'm sure such a compilation is highly redundant for a dedicated follower of Mr. Bevan's music, not everyone has time or interest in getting every EP as they come. Even myself, an individual who quite enjoys (and sure relates to) his post-clubbing come-down urban vibes, only ever sprung for the Rival Dealer EP. I had thought about getting others, even eyed the double-EP option of Street Halo / Kindred on many an occasion. I guess that procrastination paid off in that now I have them all in a single package.

Still, what's the big deal? Just all the singles appropriately aligned in chronological order, right? Been there, done that. Not at all! In fact, things have been arranged such that Tunes Of The '10s plays out like Burial had planned all these EPSs as a double-LP right from the get-go. Just, he needed a bit of an obtuse angle to initially approach it from, before realizing what overarching themes manifested with all these disparate compositions. Or it was just a big ol' coincidence things worked out they way they did.

Basically, each CD serves as its own narrative, disc one the more conceptual of the two. The first half mostly features his ambient and experimental works, and if nothing else, effectively creates a mood of back-alley squalor. Some of it does meander too long (too much field recording dithering in Subtemple), but all of it effectively builds a sense of isolation and loneliness that's only broken free from once the shimmering synths of Nightmarket hit. Then, we're off into the uplifting messaging of the Rival Dealer tracks, with the ol' school garage vibes of Claustro serving a perfect companion piece to them. Why there's even a call-back of sorts, the haunting ambience at the tail end of Hiders having been given expanded exploration in the earlier Beachfires.

By contrast, CD2 is the 'clubbier' of the two, if you could ever call Burial's post-Untrue works club worthy. For sure there are moments where a house groove or 2-step shuffle is in action, but the lengthy, stop-start nature of most of these tracks makes them rather unwieldy for the dancefloor. It's all about the atmosphere anyway. Especially with the final two cuts off the Street Halo EP, Stolen Dog and NYC. Ah, there's that Untrue feels. Wait a minute...

*checks track list again*

Oh, hah! Tune 2011-2019 is in mostly chronological order after all, just reverse. Funny how that worked out. Or a big ol' coincidence.

Barker & Baumecker - Transsektoral

Ostgut Ton: 2012

I think I've become a low-key admirer of Ostgut Ton. I never intended as such, always turned-off by the massive amounts of hype for Ben Klock, Len Faki, Shed, Steffi, and Dettmann. I didn't dislike them, but y'all needn't be so insistent on saying I must love them. Let me explore this label on my own terms, discovering acts that catch my eyes and ears. Your Nick Höppners, your L.B. Dub Corps, and your Tobias.es. Okay, maybe not so much that last one at the time, but he seems a bit forgotten now.

Anyhow, my continued sleuthing for the 'unheralded Ostgut acts' has led me to Barker & Baumecker. Are they a duo that somehow slipped by the radar, a partnership that never got its just due? The sort of techno only real heads are aware of, or something? Look, I won't front, I only stumbled upon Transsektoral because of the nifty cover-art, and 'trans' being in the title. Gosh, maybe some trance-leaning techno, then? I've heard a few flirtations with the genre out of Ostgut Ton, even as early as 2012, and with having heard so little from Misters Barker and Baumecker abroad, this could end up one of those undiscovered gems in need of a resuscitation nearly a decade on (holy cow!).

After a tidy intro of dub techno ambience, Trafo gives us the sort of vibes we're in for on this record. That vintage Ostgut Ton warehouse thump, moody backing melodies, and odd-ball experimental sounds spicing the percussion up. It can get a bit distracting from the solid techno shuffle going on, but eh, gotta' do something to stand out from the pack. Schlang Bang strips things down to a bare-bones tech-house outing with a woozy-wobbly bassline that I'm sure is perfect for your ketamine daze, but is just bemusing here.

Then, Crows. Ugh. I get what B&B are doing with that obnoxious noise, gradually morphing it into a rather lovely bit of dubbed-out orchestral pads, and the cavernous beats would make it for a fun stomping anthem. Just... gads, that noise is the absolute worst, insisting upon its 'cleverness' for far too long. Thank God the rest of Transsektoral isn't like this. In fact, the album's quite good for the duration!

No Body gets in on some of that post-dubstep action Ostgut Ton liked to dabble in, while Buttcracker and Silo go straight for the hard-ass Detroit minimal stomp. And wouldn't you know it, we even get a little trance in Trans-It, what with subtle floating arps and escalating pad work. Yeah, it's riding along your standard techno rhythm, including some real low-end thumps along the way, but d'ats classic trance, man! Or neo-trance, if you must (I've seen Lord Discogs has caught on). Closer Spur goes trancey too, but more in that morning-after, dawn's light in the eyes after being inside a grimey dancehall all night, chill-out kind of way. About as Orbital as any Ostgut Ton act can get, I guess.

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!