One of the best Ultimae Records albums of the past decade! Except this isn't on Ultimae Records, instead Healing Sound Propagandist. I only learned of the digital print's existence by way of zakè, by way of his collaboration with 36. While in there browsing through the label's wares, I spotted Circular, with a (then) recent release, no less. Talk about being thrown for a loop. I'd thought they'd discontinued activity following Moon Pool.
Well, took a near-decade long hiatus at the very least. They may have remained active on the live circuit, or explored other projects in the meanwhile, or dealt with real-life things during the interim - any number of reasons to have such a substantial break between records. Trouble was, by the time they felt the itch to make more music, their style of opulent diversity was no longer so in vogue with the label they had previous made a home with. They couldn't return to the print where they made their '90s debut, the long since shuttered Norwegian Origo Sound (they of breaking Biosphere fame). Perhaps a return to Beatservice Records, then, the label where they'd been before getting the Ultimae nod? I don't know enough about them to figure whether they'd be a good fit – I imagine they went elsewhere for a reason.
Anyhow, here Circular are, seemingly out of the blue, with another full-length filled with the free-form music making their Future Sound Of London influence demands. Seriously, it has nearly everything you could expect from their “90s sampledelica meets '00s glitch-hop meets Ultimae widescreen sonics” style. Right, I'm pulling from a very limited sample source (mainly Substans and Moon Pool), but if you still have a hankering for that vintage Ultimae style, Kimono Kaleidoscope is that in spades. Real shame it didn't appear on Vincent's label but eh, not enough vacuous dub techno on it (re: none at all).
Particulars, then? Man, where do I even begin? If there's any critical fault to be had with this album, it's almost overstuffed with sonic goodies, but then that's been Circular's manifesto anyway. If the FSOL comparison hasn't worn out its welcome just yet, Kimono Kaleidoscope is rather like one of their Environments sessions, though more focused in singular songcraft among each track. It does still play out as one, long listening experience (or 'unfurled', should you get the single-track version), but each section is distinct from the other. Some of the transitions can be jarring – you're chilling to some nice ambience, then suddenly thrust into something bigger and bolder. And a clear thematic run-through isn't readily apparent beyond music making for its own sake.
I guess that makes Kimono Kaleidoscope not quite as good as Moon Pool, though I definitely rank it higher than Substans, a record I still have some trouble sinking fully in. Take that praise for what you will. Eh, compared to their earlier three albums? Haven't heard those so say if so. Maybe I should rectify that.
A completely unremarkable, totally forgettable, time-wasting eurodance compilation with tacky cover art and barely a smattering of recognizable names, much less tunes? Dude, I'm all for it! This was the stuff filling up my local music shops, not some prestigious UK DJ rinse-out or trendy Detroit techno collection. Well, okay, not this specifically, Killer Dance Tracks, Vol. 1 hailing from Germany, and DJ's Delight barely making an impression on the region's way-overcrowded eurodance scene. Besides, we had Numuzik's DJ Line filling that role.
Not that I was aware of that in my youth, but even I had some standards. Releases that got promoted on MuchMusic dance shows like X-Tendamix and Electric Circus were usually safe bets, while imports from Dance Pool and Ariola would cross over too (thanks, Sony!). If this had somehow made it over, I'm sure I'd have passed it by without much care. And judging by the amount of folks on Discogs who claim to have a copy (less than a dozen), I'm not alone either.
Which is what makes checking out something like this a smidge exciting regardless. I know I'm not gonna' unearth some rare gem like God's Groove here, but that's not the point of this exercise. No, I'm diving in searching for nostalgia triggers, memory endorphins, and dance music that still, three decades later, can generate brief blasts of dopamine. A trip down the grungy side-alleys of memory lane, where you don't really want to dwell for long.
And right off the kick, I get that in French Connection's I Don't Like Reggae, a jaunty hip-house revamp of the old 10cc cod-reggae hit. Wow, I definitely had that on an old CD that was either pawned off or electrified in a microwave during a house party. Same can be said for the Sly! track One Day, a one-and-done single from Alex Trime, he of many eurodance hits, including with Haddaway. It took me a while to place where I'd heard One Day though, another forgettable compilation called Le Studio – Night Club 93 that still held a few neat tunes (Interceptor 17 definitely one worth searching out).
There's some more piano house tunes, some hip-house tunes, some Latin-leaning dance tunes, a couple ravey tunes, and the usual assortment of cover tunes. Some trigger the little rushes I was looking for, but just can't quite match the centrepiece of the whole dang CD: Cappella's U Got 2 Know. I'm not just saying that because of nostalgia triggers either – the track is just so much more solidly produced compared to everything else on here, carrying extra oomph in everything from the rhythms to the synths to the samples.
Man, no wonder the act blew up with this single. Hell, it was one of the reasons I bought Killer Dance Tracks, Vol. 1. Could I have gotten it elsewhere? Probably, but I doubt they'd also have fishnet booty-shorts on the cover art too. *sees the cover of Top Dance 8 from Arcade* Well, daaamnn!
In some ways, wrapping up that massive Speedy J dive on the Collabs series was perfect. Here I was, finishing one artist's discography, all the while introducing me to a couple others I may never have scoped out otherwise. Obviously I already knew of Beyer and Liebing, but discovering Gerd in those bundles has been an illuminating experience, a treasure trove of material I likely would never have known about. Like, I could have stumbled into it via some other avenue, but it felt more poetic doing it this way: concluding one Dutch techno producer's catalogue, beginning the journey of another.
And so I was hoping such would also be the case with George Issakidis. His collabs' with Jochem were already the most interesting of the bunch, and when I found out he was formerly of The Micronauts, it only intrigued me further. Unfortunately, his Discoggian data revealed precious little. A smattering of singles, a brief stint running a label, then seemingly capping his career off with this lone album of Karezza. Well, I feel like I'd be doing him an injustice if I didn't at least give this one a review, and isn't it handy it can be had for a reasonable penny on the Discogs Marketplace.
Not gonna' front: this was a bit of a challenging album to digest. Interesting, sure, but one that needs more time to marinate in my mind than the short window I typically give myself with these now. I figured I'd be in for some weirdness and abrasive abstraction, but so long as it was coupled with impossibly groovy house and techno, I was up for it. Well, I got that, but dang is it ever hard to describe exactly what it is. Perhaps that's why it didn't get much attention? Who knows a decade later.
Okay, let's give it the ol' college try. Opener Hiva Oa mostly drones over a digital trip-hop beat with bubbly, burbly synth sounds. Second track Summer Solsticeka-lumps along with industrial clank and more atonal noise blasts. Santa Rosa de Lima takes a turn for the Balearic, in a slightly warped way, but at least features some nice strumming sounds and backing pads. Hold My Hand, the clear centrepiece of Karezza at a near fifteen-minute runtime, gets into the muck of tech-house minimalism and digital distortions. Its something that I really shouldn't like, but somehow find myself drawn into. See what I mean about ol' George? Music making that's blunt and off-putting, yet strangely hypnotic too. Like being in the midst of a wicked bender, barely hanging on at the club bar, mesmerized by all the stimuli surrounding you.
The tracks following go more conventional techno, or at least as conventional as Mr. Issakidis' production style will allow. There's also an element of electro sleaze oozing through the seams, which is cool if that's your vibe. And if not, here's an ultra-choppy melodic blast in closer In Love (Dzir Mix), like a drunk-off-his-tits Axel Willner.
Not only did we kick off this 'J' block with three items from Mr. Giacovino, but we're now wrapping it up too. Yep, it's a complete Natural Life Essence sweep here, which probably isn't that impressive at first blush. 'J' words remain rather limited in the English vocabulary, much less to title one's album with. I've a few 'journey's, and if I was more of a Jazz Guy, Guru's Jazzmatazz, Vol. 1 wouldn't stand so alone. You'd think I'd have more 'jungle' releases too, but Congo Natty's Jungle Revolution In Dub is about it. Or was, N:L:E's Jungle Stories now joining this jumping 'J' jamboree.
Wait, why don't I have more jungle releases with 'Jungle' in the title? I'll grant I mostly missed the genre's early wave, not cluing into the scene until it had morphed into the more marketable drum 'n' bass label. Yeah, yeah, you can make technical demarcations between the two sounds, but when it came to shoving CDs onto store shelves, d'n'b was what stuck, looking classier than all the renegade 'wude-boys' artwork adorning jungle releases. Does kinda' make me want to sift through Lord Discogs' marketplace now, seeing what cheapy '90s compilations I can find there. Gotta' be a treasure-trove of them!
Anyhow, this has precious little to do with Jungle Stories from Juan Pablo. Not that I couldn't imagine him indulging in some brisk, broken beat action somewhere in his massive discography – every producer gets an itch for the 2-step or Amen break at some point. Generally though, his preferred rhythmic lane is on the dubby downbeat, with the occasional sprinklings of spritely ambient techno.
So imagine my surprise when he actually brings something... well, not exactly d'n'b, but certainly at a higher BPM than his usual fare. Granted, it's just one track out of four on this tidy EP, but it's one track more than I've heard from a lot of N:L:E in a while (ever?). Epic Land does still skew closer to dub at that, but the beats are energetic enough to pull it ever so near the realms of atmospheric jungle. Lovely sweeping synths and a groovy bassline don't hurt either.
That's about it for 'jungle' related sounds on Jungle Stories. Sun And Shadows is more of Juan Pablo's twinkly ambience, Running Through The Jungle is more of his ambient dub. And Night In The Jungle is something of a combo of the two (gentle ambience, big bassline). At no point, however, do we hear any field recordings of equatorial rainforest fauna. No birds of paradise, no incessant insect chatter, not even a jaguar roar. Man, I know Mr. Giacovino originates from Argentina. Is it so hard to bring a giant microphone to the Amazon? Yes, just as easy as it would be for me to bring one to the Cambria Icefield.
Regardless, a nice little EP here, one I was honestly shocked by its shortness, after all those lengthy Jamming Caravan sessions.
Juan Pablo seldom posts notes or factoids regarding his releases, such things typically left blank on his Bandcamp pages. And I understand why, the music mostly self-explanatory by title alone. Here he was inspired by micro-fauna. This one by space. That one by ancient peoples. Another of space. Sometimes just a free-flowing composition with no particular aim beyond enjoying the process itself. Why bog the listener down with paragraphs of copy when such things are generally moot? It's clear Mr. Giacovino wears his artist's heart on his sleeve – what you hear is pretty much what he intends, no need for obscure, abstract concepts guiding you along the way.
So I was a little intrigued by the fact he included some liner notes for these Jamming Caravan releases. It was clear they were outside his usual norm, cover art featuring images of gear rather than naturalistic settings. Apparently he was just having fun with a few of his synths and such, nothing directly inspiring their use beyond whatever sounds he could make at the time. Maybe not the most luring concept among his many releases, but when you clearly have little filter in what gets uploaded to your webspace, what care is there in why the art was created beyond for its own sake. Surely some folks will like it, if not for the music itself, than for the gear used. Gear hounds love hearing their preferred tech-specs in action!
Oh, I guess I should actually mention what Juan Pablo used in these sessions, since he was so keen on sharing that info. One (1) Korg NTS1. One (1) Korg Volca fm. A Pocket Operator Pro 32 Tonic. Some NTS1 effects. “Many Other FM Virtual Synths.” How cool is that, eh? Eh? Okay, I can't fake that funk, my knowledge of gear rather limited – never got into it because good Lord is that ever an expensive hobby. I'm sure there's some folks reading this who'll be all like, “Pft, what amateur hour kiddie-toys this be, harrumph harrumph”, but scene snobs exist everywhere, no matter your niche interests. Let them be, and have fun with the toys and tools you enjoy.
And as for that all-important musical result of all this jamming? The first two Caravans feature two tracks apiece, each breaching half an hour in length (save Jamming Caravan 2, running a svelte twenty-five minutes). Yeah, these are jams alright, mostly ambient noodling with light pulsing melodies and sparse rhythms. Vintage Fax+ stuff, if you get my drift. It's pleasant enough as background music, but in being so freeform in craft, will likely only hold your attention intermittently before fading off again. The third session, Live At Lofi Temple, at least breaks things up into four parts (most lasting about a dozen minutes), each exploring different facets of the same basic musical motif. Doesn't hurt these lean more into psy-chill and dub than the lengthier outings, always good for keeping the reptile brain entertained, a fussy one to please.
So I went on a small trip that I want to share some pics of but I've discontinued the use of the one platform that I typically did so on. What do? Oh yeah, I have an actual blog, that thing lots of people used to use before social media drew everyone away. I think some folks still use them as such but I get it, the allure of having more eyes approving of your life style. Well, nuts to that. May as well use the platform I've basically made my content little corner of the internet. Don't worry, this will still primarily be a music blog. Going forward though, I'll occasionally break from the routine, should some life events warrant it.
Before I post the actual pics, some context. I flew north back to my hometown, which may not sound all that exciting, until you remember where I live. Yes, the Pacific Northwest, and to get to my hometown from my current town, you can either fly 750km, take a ferry of slightly longer length, or drive 1,500km. Why is it twice as far to drive? Surely you'd just hug the coast, right? No, because there's a huge range of massive, f'-off mountains between, with no hope of ever just cruising through them.
What massive, f'-off mountains might look like.
Believe me when I say nothing makes you appreciate just how untamed and impenetrable so much of my 'backyard' is when you fly over these rugged, jagged, glaciated alpines than having a crystal clear day to bask in their grandiosity. I think I caught glimpse of them once before in my youth, but so many plane trips along the coast were covered by our usual assortment of thick, rainy clouds obscuring all but the tallest peaks. I feel fortunate that this trip afforded me the opportunity to see them in all their splendour, with skies so free of clouds, I could see the Tweedsmuir lakes in the eastern distance. Couldn't really take pictures of them through a tiny plane window though, hence these stock photos standing in.
Puny humans in the face of inhospitable terrain.
Anyhow, having arrived in Prince Rupert, I felt an itch, an urge. The town is nestled on an island between its harbour and a mountain of its own, a long ridge with a peak of about 700m high. Clearly a mere foothill compared to the average 3000m behemoths that are scattered about the Coast Range, but a twinge of wanderlust pricked at me. That while I'd likely never climb to the top, say, Mt. Waddington, surely I could do Mt. Hays.
What a Mt. Hays might look like.
I'd been to the top of that mountain before, but by vehicle up the old mountain road, or taken a gondola up when there was still a tourist and ski station at the summit. I'd never hiked up it, only the various trails scattered about its base. I felt like this was something I had to do before I left, a last little bit of unfinished business where I spent most of my youth. So I did.
It was something I really should have put more forethought into than just doing on a whim. First, I was going by myself, which most hikers will say is already irresponsible, especially in an area that's rather difficult to access from civilization. The weather was nice though, if cold, so surely some other hikers would be out on this day. Save a lone jogger passing me twice (!), I was utterly alone.
I also quickly realized that this was no casual jaunt through a city park, the incline coming immediate and challenging. The whole path was 4km long, just to get to a 500m 'first' peak – I'd walked maybe twenty minutes when I was already feeling that burn. After about the first kilometre, I was at my highest heartbeat level. I thought of a friend of mine who'd gone into cardiac arrest doing the Grouse Grind, a challenging hike in Vancouver. Paramedics couldn't reach him in time, despite people being with him. And here I was, climbing the backside of a steep-ass ridge, by myself, my own heart-rate maxing out, with no one to watch out for me. Or what if I twisted an ankle, blew out a knee, slipped on some rubble? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
A relief map of the path I took.
Yet, there was something uniquely alluring about the path this day. Rainforest hikes are always special, thick with foliage, seeing nature at some of its most feral – and British Columbia is filled with them. On this day though, it seemed even the mighty Pacific rainforests were tamed by the cold that had settled in. Not a biting, brittle freeze, but enough to put nearly everything in stasis. The various mountain run-off streams that dotted the trail were all frozen solid, yet no snow lay upon the ground. The usual chatter of forest fauna, dead silent. It was a realm locked between its natural state and wintery smothering. I didn't want to go back so soon, and the only way further was up. So up I continued.
Eventually, I came upon something I hadn't counted on, as you couldn't see it from the ground below: a snow line. That delicate barrier where the surrounding air is no longer warm enough to melt whatever lay upon the ground. Where you transition from just a regular ol' hiking trail (challenging though it was) to a realm reserved only for the hardcore. The path carried further, but I wondered if that was enough. I hadn't planned to go this far, much less by myself. I was getting seriously out-of-reach now. Plus, I saw large paw prints in the snow. I knew wolves were known to wander these paths, folks discouraged from bringing pet dogs because of it. How fresh were these tracks? They looked fairly recent, little erosion around their imprint, but given how mild the local weather had been in recent days, that didn't prove anything. I could have turned back then, more than having sated whatever need my wanderlust craved. Still I continued up.
What a snow line might look like.
Some twenty minutes later, the trail finally came to its natural end. A lone bench marked its final destination, with a view that made it all worth it. The Rupert Harbour as I'd long remembered it. The spit of land that's actually part of the mainland. The Metlekatla village clinging to the inside of that peninsula. Beyond it, across high seas, the Dunbas Islands group, the most northern cluster of Canadian islands in the open Pacific Ocean. And, if you look carefully, in the distant mist, the tall peaks of the most southern tip of Alaska's Prince Of Wales Island.
What a view from near the top of a mountain might look like.
Granted, it wasn't quite the 'flying over endless f'-off mountains' kind of a view. Even from that vantage point though, you recognize just how much of nature still claims dominion over large swaths of this planet. That despite our best efforts, there's places that we will likely never conquer, that will remain unspoiled, and are privileged to at least glimpse upon these realms should we be adventurous enough to seek them out.
Okay, then. Cool. Now, about getting back down that damn mountain. Oh dear, this is gonna' do a number on my knees and quads, isn't it...? (yep!)
While getting these old random eurodance singles is fun in of itself, there honestly isn't much to talk about regarding the music. You know all the major hits – if not the original, then some interpolation of them – and the bulk of other releases were often rip-offs of those. Not that its a bad thing or anything, popular genres spawning copycats looking to cash-in on hot trends a common consequence of music becoming popular. And for the Italians, anthem house with big hooks and catchy choruses were all the rage in the wake of Black Box' global success.
And so it goes with this particular single from Trancex called It's Gonna Be Alright. There isn't anything terribly unique about it, but dang, if that riff doesn't just instantly bury itself into your brain. The vocal sample is fairly generic too, but doesn't have to be anything special either, just enough to have you humming it along with the main lead when it drops. And yes, this is one of those tracks that technically 'drops', pulling everything back after each session with the main hook for another build. Early '90s anthem house at its most basic but also most efficient.
Remixes, then. That's why I wanted this, hoping for some long-forgotten nugget of vintage dance music gold. Yeah, not gonna' find that here. There's an extended Trancex Mix, and a 'deeper' Organ Sex Mix. The latter is almost entirely pointless, the whole point of this track being the big, obvious anthem and having none of it there. Still, that little tease of a build at the end, mix that into the actual hook of the original, could be a crowd pleaser.
So I didn't get anything terribly exciting with It's Gonna Be Alright beyond face value. Yet I'm clearly giddy about something over this single, so what is it? As seems more the case now, it's learning about the producers behind the music, and in this case we've hit... well, not a gold mine, but some interesting factoids.
Two Italians are credited here, Graziano Fanelli and Pieradis Rossini. The former seems to have mostly worked in tandem with the latter, whom has worked on a lot of things over the years, not to mention running the label DJ Movement. They were behind tons of eurodance, hard dance, happy hardcore and probably vocal trance too. Cool, but cooler are the projects Fenelli worked on before this.
For instance, he was behind the original incarnation of Cappella. Yes, that Cappella, which makes sense when you hear this, anthem house stylings and all. However, Pieradis left the project before it globally took off with Take Me Away and U Got 2 Know (working on Trancex, most likely). Still, another item he'd worked on prior gave him a brush with 'greatness', called My Love as Collapse. If you're at all familiar with Sasha sets from the early '90s, you know this track. Mr. Rossini was remarkably adaptable with the times.
I honestly can't remember what prompted me to scope out Scott Grooves again. Though I've liked the music I've heard from him, he hasn't been high on my 'must get everything!' list of artists. Whenever I felt an itch for Detroit tech-house, I tended to drift towards DJ 3000 and his Motech roster. Granted, I haven't really returned to them either for a spell, so maybe I was just feeling fallow for anything in this vein. Could be, or perhaps the cover art of this EP caught my eye when it popped up in my Bandcamp mailing list that continuously sends me notifications.
It's definitely more distinctive among the rest of the Natural Midi releases, a portrait of the man himself drawn by “Chris The Artist”. Most items from this label tend to be minimalist and vinyl friendly, easily ignored when sifting through endless emails. With its slightly cybernetic style, however, I can imagine ITMS drawing me in for a closer look. At least, its the only reason I can think of why I checked it out. Either that, or I just had a random thought of “I wonder what Scott Grooves has been up to?” and this was his latest release at the time. Yes, that long ago now. Time flies when your rate of reviews slows down.
I also get a sense of Mr. Grooves releasing something a little more definitive here than his usual output. The chap's put out a lot, much of it serving more as techno tools or artistic indulgences. Right before this, for instance, he release a four-part mini-series of dialog pieces called Spoken Art, not to mention some forty-five tracks initially exclusive to tape called Machinik. He can be a bit all over the place, is what I'm saying, which is wonderful for satisfying one's muse, but be a bit daunting for those just looking to dabble in a discography. So if going to the source isn't quite enough for you (re: scoping out Pieces Of A Dream), then a tidy EP offering a potential look into his sound seems appropriate enough.
Though honestly, I'm not so sure how accurate this sound is to the grander Scott Grooves lexicon. I've heard some deep, minimalist material from him before, but opener Cookies & Cream is real deep, very loopy, barely bloopy, and just a little synth-sinewy. Fine as a first track, I guess, but doesn't really get the mood movin' either. Gettin Started is aptly titled, then, as the pace picks up, even if we're still in relatively deep Detroit vibes. H.O.W. (Horses On Woodward) has more a shuffly, suttery rhythm going for it, and at eight-plus minutes long, more free-flowing jam with the sparse synths used. The vibe's just as deep too, but feels better earned than the previous two. Meanwhile, closer Driven is a fairly straight-forward loopy rhythm workout – nothing too fancy, but if you needed a simple transition track in your Detroit techno set, this will do the trick.
One of the best 'sophomore slump' albums you'll ever hear. Okay, I can't authentically back that up, as I'll never hear every record with that label. Heck, there might be some items within my own collection that are better examples of 'sophomore slumps that are not', though I'm hard-pressed to think of any in my hip-hop selections. Maybe something among all the Wu-Tang solo outings? No, Beneath The Surface doesn't count, no matter how much everyone forgets GZA had an album before Liquid Swords. Raekwon's Immobilarity would though, even if I'm one of the few folks on the planet who think so.
General consensus now goes Nas' It Was Written was destined for initial disappointment no matter what he did. Like so many New York City rap debuts of the time, Illmatic was about as perfect a record as anyone could hope for, except those all-important sales figures. Everyone knew Mr. Jones was one of the region's premier lyricists (getting a DJ Premier co-sign didn't hurt), and with so much hype behind him, the pressure to actually shoot for something chart friendly had to be immeasurable. After all, if Biggie showed it could be done, why not everyone else? So long as the record offers a few token jams for the underground heads, let's have fun with 'cover raps' (Street Dreams aping Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams) and sexy-sweet come-ons for the ladies (Black Girl Lost).
You'd think threading the line between opportunistic hits and 'thug rap' would make for a disjointed record, and that's what most critics felt at the time. “Pick a lane,” they complained, again somehow forgetting you could be both with credibility intact. For whatever reason though, working so heavily with future hitmakers Trackmasterz left a sour taste in a lot of mouths, pronouncing the album a sophomore slump despite strong sales and standout tracks like If I Ruled The World with Lauryn Hill (herself on the verge of super-stardom). I guess folks felt it was too much of a side of hip-hop they didn't like, or not enough of the other, and simply dismissed it without much thought. At least, until they went back to these records with that perfect hindsight vision.
Because had this been the debut, and Illmatic just some underground tapes only the hardest of the hardcore knew about, I've no doubt It Was Written would have been considered an instant classic as well. Maybe not quite at the level of Ready To Die or Enter The Wu-Tang, but surely talked about alongside The Infamous and Reasonable Doubt. Instead, it lies in the shadow of a record damn near everyone does, as if there can only be One (1) Nas album worth discussion. With how many dope LPs he's release long after, however, that discourse has shifted. Critical revaluation of It Was Written is now concluding that in providing such a solid, wide range of hip-hop styles among its thirteen tracks, the record is 'good, actually,' and most definitely not a cliched sophomore slump.
This has been a surprisingly difficult compilation to tackle. Not so much for detailing the music within, fairly straight-forward for a latter-day Ultimae release. Not even for what I intend to say about it, the particulars again simple enough. No, the difficulty lay in sitting down and listening to the damn thing for a deeper analysis. A sort of... trepidation, if you will, in where my headspace might go as it plays. Just the title alone - Isolated - invokes feelings of being cut off and distant from your fellow man. And hey, if I'm in that specific kind of mood, I'll fire up a Cryo Chamber CD, right? Absolutely, but I want a little more from my Ultimae releases, a chance to get swept up in widescreen sonics, even if the scenery tends to be more desolate than years past.
Still, can't fault the label for putting out a compilation such as this. It's been an avenue Mr. Villuis has long been fascinated by, finally reaching its creative high-point with the Aes Dana album (a) period. May as well bring in a bunch of other fellow ambient drone and downtempo dub artists to explore it further, though having psy-chill journeyman DJ Samsara in for the compiling duties is an interesting choice. No matter how hard he tries, Vincent will never be shed of his former links to the psy scene.
So I throw Isolated on, and the first track is Solitude from ASC. Hey, James Clements making his debut with Ultimae! That's pretty dope in of itself, his style of ambient more than suitable for their 'panoramic music' manifesto – only took a decade-plus to get there. Following that, there's many familiar names making up the track list: Erot, Martin Nonstatic, Miktek, plus Aes Dana himself.
And, almost immediately, I find myself drifting off, overcome by an overwhelming urge to hibernate. Is it the music that's doing this, or am I just feeling the depths of winter doldrums, the bitter cold even reaching my relatively temperate region of the Pacific northwest? Almost certainly the latter, but man, Isolated isn't helping either. Do you now see why its been a hard one to get into? I just can't sit still with it long enough without crashing out!
It's not all minimalist synth pads and ultra-deep dub tones, Claudio PRC's Arctic Movement offering a lone 'uptempo' track even if it sounds just as sparse as everything else on Isolated. Elsewhere, Aes Dana and Miktek's Lavender brings more skittery beatsmith, the sort of style you'd probably more quickly associate with ASC, if you were doing a blind guess of who's tracks are who's on here. Beyond that, its mostly glitchy downbeat and expansive drone tones, the usual fare from Ultimae. And as always, it sounds lovely when you have the right set of gear to play it on (super-deluxe home studio, Sennheiser headphones, etc.), but loses a lot of depth on lesser equipment (earbuds, laptop speakers, etc.). Basically music best served when in exsquisite isolation.
