Bob Marley & The Wailers - Legend

Tuff Gong: 1984

Speaking of reggae...

This is where that Peter Tosh fella' below got his start, even penning some of The Wailers' most memorable hits (Get Up, Stand Up, One Foundation) - I'm sure he also influenced many other political songs from the group that became reggae staples for years to come. But yes, the main star of the enterprise was Robert Nesta Marley, or simply Bob to white stoners the world over.

I guess the importance of this collective of reggae musicians cannot be overstated. There were other names and bands that had a greater hand in developing the sound, true, but none came within an earshot of breaking into American radio. Then all of a sudden, folks picked up on these quirky, rugged roots rhythms emanating from Jamaica, almost exclusively from a practically all-star cast calling themselves The Wailers, fronted by an incredibly magnetic singer with crazy dreadlocks. Why is he even wearing his hair like that? Because he's a Rastafarian? What's that? Goodness, what else is going on in Jamaica? It all sounds so, like, laid-back and fun, man. They also like smokin' grass too. Oh man, I'm totally gonna be Jamaican now, it's kinda like being a hippie, right?

So I don't know if that's really what '60s burnouts thought of reggae music, but seeing how it's affected the hippie culture since, it wouldn't surprise me. Kind of a moot point though, as one doesn’t have to be of the crusty persuasion to enjoy Bob Marley; hence his broad appeal. The knack for a hook, the charming melodies and vocalizations, the poignant messages, and, perhaps key, the comprehensible lyrics (ain’t no thick Jamaican accents here, my friends), they were the total package for global domination. Sadly, after a brilliant decade of music, Marley died of cancer at the start of the ‘80s. And while The Wailers still tour performing all their classic jams (woot, I even saw them at a nearby folk festival), they ceased writing new tunes.

Obviously, a greatest hits package followed, arriving in ’84 as Legend. It’s been the definitive Bob Marley & The Wailers collection ever since, seeing countless re-issues, re-masterings, and remix supplements. Every tune you know of the group is here - Buffalo Soldier, Jamming, Stir It Up, I Shot The Sheriff, etc. – though depending on the version you find, not always in its best iteration. For instance, the first runs of Legend featured a live recording of No Woman No Cry, which for my money is the best way to hear the tune (obviously, since I paid for it). Its seven minutes long, so plenty of extended jams go down, but for some stupid reason, it’s been excised from newer copies of the CD in favour of an edited cut. Poor form, made even worse by the same thing happening to my all-time favourite Marley tune, Exodus. Dammit, I don’t care if it’s remastered, you don’t edit that dubby masterpiece! Be wary of such shenanigans if you get Legend for yourself.

Peter Tosh - Legalize It

Columbia: 1976

An album you’re supposed to have, if you’ve ever been a pothead. You didn’t even have to smoke much, but having Legalize It in your collection signified support of legislation de-criminalizing the wacky-tabacky; or maybe you just needed a familiar, un-ironic record cover to roll your joints on. And yeah, I definitely was something of a ganja indulger when I picked up Peter Tosh’s debut solo album, but it was because I enjoy those vintage roots reggae jams, I swear!

Several others must have too, as Legalize It has gone down as a reggae classic, and seen several re-issues, remasterings, and remixes this past decade (though not as much as his old bandmate, Bob Marley). Heck, some have even gone so far as to give the album a super SACD upgrade, including full-on 5.1 Surround! As the cheap-ass cover to the left shows, I don’t have such a copy in my possession. I found it in a bargain bin, though as this is Columbia, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was one of those Columbia House options you got in the early ‘90s. It’s also about as tinny as a cheap CD transfer can be, which was about the extent I was willing to splurge on a marijuana protest album, even when I was taking tokes on a semi-regular basis.

Actually, title track aside, Legalize It isn’t much about drugs at all. As was a common theme with Mr. Tosh’s work (and for which he got in trouble with authorities for), protests against injustice and poverty is the name of the game …sometimes. He didn’t get really opinionated until his follow-up albums, but opts for a mix of tunes here. So we get the political stuff in Legalize It, Burial (lambasting gangsters and corrupt officials for never attending funerals of the poor …I think) and What’cha Gonna Do? (about a woman who’s family is being ruined by police and ticky-tacky arrests …I’m pretty sure). Following those, there’s tunes about how awesome Jah is (Igziabeher), pleasant love ditties (No Sympathy and Ketchy Shuby …maybe), and broken relationships (Til Your Well Runs Dry). Okay, I have to admit, I had to do some research online about these lyrics, because like all Jamaican music, their gloriously daft version of English can confound even a fifth level linguist expert (he even understands Scottish!).

Let’s face it though: the real reason to check out this album is for those lovely reggae jams. If your only exposure to the genre is Bob Marley or Sly & Robbie, you’ve missed out on what the genre has to offer, as their tunes were often wonderfully studio crafted works. Tosh, on the other hand, comes off more ramshackle and live – which really, is the best way to hear roots music. There’s something entrancing when hearing various instruments seemingly out of sync with each other, yet somehow maintains rhythmic consistency through it all. It’s, like, getting high, or something.

Leftfield - Leftism

Columbia: 1995

These ‘definitive electronica albums’ often weigh me down. Not for a lack of things to say, oh no – if anything, there’s too much to say, though undoubtedly covered far more extensively than I’d ever manage within self-imposed word count. Trouble arises when you know the narrative, understand the impact, and appreciate the execution, yet can’t always muster the spark that wins you over as it has so many others. I like Leftfield. I like Leftism. I like progressive house – whatever it was supposed to be even back in the day – and have nary an ill thought when it comes to this album. It’s also one of my least played LPs of those seminal mid-‘90s “supposed to have” electronic music releases. In fact, it took me years to finally get around to grabbing a copy, more as a sense of completist obligation rather than any urge to hear Open Up or even Inspection (Check One) again.

Part of the problem is Leftism’s very nature, an attempt at bringing their trend-setting sound into the mainstream consciousness. Not an entirely daft idea, and when Columbia signed Leftfield, I’m sure they figured they’d have similar success as Virgin did with all those other ‘rave’ groups (The Future Sound Of London, The Chemical Brothers, The Massive Attack, etc.). And they were right, Leftism getting sales, plaudits, and all that good stuff. Unlike those acts, however, something feels lost in Leftfield’s transition from underground taste-makers to crossover stars.

Perfect example is the new version of their first hit Song Of Life. The original was a prog-house staple, establishing all the chugging rhythms, clever samples, and dream-like qualities that defined the early scene. On Leftism, however, it opts for the chill road instead, nearly half the track devoted to a revamping of the Song Of Life b-side, Fanfare Of Life. Great sounding cut, of course, but clearly aimed at the home-listening demographic, as is much the album.

Right, Leftfield couldn’t simply release their old club hits in ’95 as they first appeared earlier that decade – the musical innovation arms race was blindingly fast at that time, and grooving, dubby house tunes were already coming off dated. To keep pace, Barnes and Daley dipped their hands in other genres. Techno crops up in Black Flute, Space Shanty, and Afro-Left (though again, the album version pales compared to the pounding Afro Ride cut on the single), breaks get their nod in Storm 3000, trip-hop finds its way care of Original, and chill-out has its moments with Melt and 21st Century Poem; all of which mixed through Leftfield’s trademark bottem-heavy, dubby soundscapes.

Does this sound like too much market-driven genre hopping? Congratulations then, you’ve discovered Leftism’s primary problem. Whether the duo believed they could pull off an ‘all-encompassing’ dance album, or it was mandated by overhead to cover every potential market, I haven’t a clue, but the result is a good sounding LP lacking, erm, progressive electronic music adventurism. We can’t scare away those potential Oasis fans, after all.

Solar Fields - Leaving Home

Ultimae Records: 2005/2008

It’s hard to imagine a guy like Solar Fields having a ‘forgotten album’, but that’s honestly what Leaving Home comes off like. There's a transitional feeling to his third LP on Ultimae, an attempt to move on from the psy dub that made Blue Moon Station such a standout, but not quite reaching the musical diversity and epic scope later albums offered. One of Mr. Birgersson's enduring strengths is his willingness to try something different every time he releases an album, but I don't think he quite knew where he wanted to go next on Leaving Home, resulting in something of a hodgepodge CD.

Case in point: the track list, or rather the track 'demarcation'. The first half of this album is indexed in such a bizarre manner, I have to imagine ol' Magnus deliberately aiming for avant-garde. First tune Home is barely a tune at all, serving more as soundscape lead-in for summery chill-out second cut Time Slide. Fair enough, many albums start this way, but the two blends so seamlessly together, you'd think it was the same track. Insum does more to stand out as something distinct, though noodles about for nearly half the track before establishing a proper melodic theme (a lovely bit of lazy ambient techno featuring strumming strings and sweeping synths ...standard Ultimae at this point, if I'm honest). Couldn't the first half just been an independently indexed interlude?

Following that, we get Star Fruit, Magnetosphere (Star Fruit Part 2), and Stereo Hypnosis (Magnetosphere Part 2). Oh cool, a running theme between three tracks, this should be- what, it's over already? Yep, three individual 'tracks', running a total time less than Insum. What was the point of that? Sure, the drum programming grows more complicated with each track (Star Fruit Part 3 almost enters braindance territory), but couldn't this have been one single track instead? The first two parts are simply too short to have much interest as stand-alones.

Following that, we’re treated to three tracks breaking the ten-minute mark – heck, Monogram breaks the fifteen-minute mark, mostly noodly ambient techno but fine for that sort of thing. The first of this bunch though, Air Song, has three totally different ideas during its run-time, yet isn’t split up like the Star-Fruit-Magnetosphere-Hypnosis sequence that preceded it. It doesn’t ruin the listening experience, mind you – I doubt Solar Fields could release a bad album if he tried – but boy does it make for a wonky looking tracklist.

Right, I haven’t been detailing much of the music itself, mainly because there isn’t much to talk about. Leaving Home has a soft atmosphere running through, chill even for typical Solar Fields chill (and if you aren’t familiar with his sound yet, what are you waiting for!?). Fortunately, it ends strong, with Times Are Good coming off like a Pete Namlook tribute, and the titular final cut featuring a great climax of wordly sounds, synths, and trip-hop breaks. It can be something of an ambient-soup slog to get there though.

Perfect Stranger - Learning = Change (2013 Update)

Iboga Records: 2006

(Click here to wander the barren wastes of my old writing.)

*blink* ...*blink-blink*

Sorry about that. My eyes dried out while trying to read that old review of mine. I still couldn't get through it. In fact, just thinking about it has left my creative process a desolate desert. I'm utterly stumped on what to say in this Update. It's still a good prog-psy album, far better than most of the material Iboga Records churned out in later years. What kind of material? Ah, you don't want me to tell you, it's really not interesting. I'm going to though, aren't I, just to burn some word count here.

Iboga was making a name for itself in the mid-'00s as a worthy contributor to a growing prog-psy scene, their finest offerings easily on par with the likes of Spiral Trax. Then, for some totally daft reason, the Iboga roster started getting bit by the minimal bug. Their tunes often had a deeper, tribal tone to them, sandwiched between the driving, melodic numbers, but not any longer. Perfect Stranger, Iboga's main man remember, was particularly smitten by this trend, churning out some of the driest tracks you could imagine. I don't know if they ever recovered from that nonsense, as I lost touch with the label as this decade took form. Didn't want to bother springing for music if it was gonna' be the listening equivalent of traversing the Gobi Desert.

I did have a chance to see if Perfect Stranger had changed his sound this summer, as he was one of the headliners at the Shambhala Music Festival. Unfortunately, he was slotted for a ridiculously early time at the psytrance-worldbeat-hippieshit stage, at which point I was slotted to work on the clean-up crew as part of my volunteer duties. Yeah, after six years attending this festival, I gave back to that which gave so much to me – the early-entry, gettin' fed, warm showers, and cool co-workers was a good incentive too. That Friday evening shift, I rode around on the trash collection truck; dirty work true, but a lot of fun too, hopping on a moving vehicle chanting “Trash! Trash! Trash!” along the way, dancing to music whenever we neared one of the stages. It was one, big, moving party, keeping the grounds tidy and that.

Still, my fondest memory of that trip didn't occur at the festival, but the night before my travelling posse got there. We stayed overnight in a small town called Trail, famous for a massive steel mill in the centre. We thought maybe a pub might be open late, but as it was a holiday night, Trail's downtown was dead, not a soul on the street, and a disconcerting sight for us city goers. Meanwhile, looming in the background of this abandoned area lay the massive factory, its evening lights eerily illuminating massive smoke stacks billowing thick clouds into the warm summer night. A real steampunk sight for this day in age.

What? Oh hey, Learning = Change. Still worth a listen, it is. Trust.

Enigma - Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi!

Virgin: 1996

Enigma had beaten the sophomore slump on The Cross Of Changes, thanks in large part to songs you couldn't escape anywhere you went. In fact, I suspect it may have been overkill on the casual listener's part, as by the mid-'90s, interest in world-beat pop had significantly dwindled. What, another ethnic chant coupled with Shakuhachi flutes and dated breakbeats? Fah, who's got time for that when 'girl with acoustic guitar' is all the hotness now (then). Michael Cretu, crafty producer he is, also recognized the need to keep his project evolving. Thus his third album, Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi!, was promoted as a marriage of his two previous Enigma works. Hey, now I get that title! It's, like, proclaiming old Enigma is dead, but here's new Enigma to lead the way. Deep, man.

Unfortunately, the album itself failed to generate much buzz beyond the lead single Beyond The Invisible, itself memorable mostly for the odd video. I mean, really, what’s going on here: Lola be running to the woods, where a figure-skating competition is being judged by steampunk cenobites (those oddballs on the cover) while tree sprites watch. It’s actually not a bad tune, though clearly a step below such hits as Age Of Loneliness and Sadeness, Part 1 - T.N.T. For The Brain comes close though. I guess if you’ve never cared about Cretu’s vocals, it wouldn’t grab you either. Tough beans if that’s the case, as he sings quite a bit for this album.

In fact, the more there are vocals on Le Roi Is Morty, Live The King!, the less interesting the album is. I appreciate the effort Mr. Cretu puts into his singing, as you can tell he’s giving his limited range all that he can offer (with a little studio boost too), but the tracks he leads on have almost always been the weakest cuts on his albums. His wife, Sandra, adds so much scintillating depth to admittedly daft New Age lyrics, and it’s a shame she doesn’t get more to do this time out.

Musically, The King Is Dead; Oops, He’s A Zombie! is softer than the previous two. Morphing Thru Time lazily coasts, Shadows In Silence floats on tranquil oceans, Almost Full Moon blissfully rocks back and forth in a dreamy daze, and Prism Of Life... well, would likely go good around a campfire. Even the upbeat tunes aren’t as driving in their rhythms as older Enigma, The Roundabout about the closest thing coming to a proper club cut.

LREM,VLR! is a better album than most gave it credit for back in the day, but has the feeling of an ambitious theme that never quite gels. Some trimming of the sappier moments like Why!... (oh God, Cretu just can’t sing here) and The Child In Us (oof, what platitudes) would have helped. If anything, the instrumentals are gorgeous, and worth checking the album out if you’ve been a fence sitter for all this time.

Neil Young - Le Noise

Reprise Records: 2010

It was about the mid-'aughts that I caught the Rusty bug, but even as ol' Neil continued releasing albums of new material at a good clip that decade, I didn't pay his post-millennial output much heed. I had nearly four prior decades of Young's discography to catch up on, and while press for the likes of Living With War or Chrome Dreams II was positive, I saw little point in catching such albums. They were good, so said the journals, but not going anywhere his classic material hadn't been before. Thus I figured I'd stumble along to Young's 2000s music long after the fact.

Then I heard the early promos for Le Noise. Say, this is different. I’d heard him as a solo guitarist plenty of times, but never with an emphasis on fuzzed-out distortion. Also, what’s with these songs about aged reflection? It’s almost as though his head was in an autobiographical mindset when he wrote them. And hey, Daniel Lanois is the producer? Holy cow, Neil ain’t never get professional producers on his work, always preferring the ragged, first-take approach guys like David Briggs provided. How would a guy known for spacious, perfected studio mixdowns mesh with a rocker known for almost the exact opposite?

Truth be told, Neil Young’s something of a music perfectionist himself, always aiming to capture the spark of his creativity as close to the source as he can. Couple that with an almost insatiable pursuit of discovering the highest-fidelity medium out there (he got no love for MP3s), and pairing up with Lanois isn’t quite so surprising. “Give me space for the music to breathe,” said Neil, “and you can use fancy studio gadgets to take it further.” Sounds good to me, as does Le Noise.

Instead of recording in a traditional studio, they set up a make-shift one at Lanois’ Los Angeles mansion, resulting in a fuller sound as Neil’s guitar tones filled large rooms. Also unique to the project was splitting the guitar into two amps, one for rhythm and one for lead, creating audio separation of the two. As Mr. Young’s never been the most technically proficient guitarist around though, flubbed chords are a consequence of simultaneously playing lead and rhythm. Still, as any longtime Rusty will attest, that’s always been part of his charm. As for Lanois’ production, it remains in the background while Neil sings about relationships (of course), global problems (damn hippie), and his sordid drug history (ooh, tantalizing!). When songs go pure instrumental, however, or during a coda, dubby effects emerge, lending Le Noise to something of a shoegaze feeling, though with a producer doing the sonic manipulation rather than the musician with footpedals.

This album received a ton of accolades when it came out, though I figure more for the concept than the actual content since most songs are typical Neil Young: simple. It’s definitely one of his most unique sounding albums though, and a must-have for anyone willing to take the Rusty plunge.

Lodsb - lazer.eyes.love

Force Intel: 2011

When pioneering glitch 'n experimental label Mille Plateaux relaunched in the late '00s, it was swamped by several up-and-comers’ promos looking to join the roster. I mean, when you're new to that scene and hoping to gain prestige, what better way to do so than having a Mille catalogue number attached to your work? Turns out though, some of these promos sent in weren’t weird enough for ol’ Plateaux, but would serve as fine examples of ‘classic’ IDM (bleepy ambient techno, scattershot breaks, etc.). If only there was a label that promoted the stuff still. Since Warp went all shoegaze though, I guess a whole new label was required, hence Mille offshoot Force Intel coming into its brief existence.

So this Lodsb fella' got to release a debut album on the 'net label. The Lord That Knows All apparently knows very little about who's behind the moniker. There isn't even a name assigned to his Discogs page, despite two albums to his credit. Heck, the only reason I know Lodsb is of the male persuasion is because there's a picture of him on his Last.fm profile - still no name, though. Curse those IDM wonks making research difficult.

lazer.eyes.love primarily falls into the breakcore side of IDM, so if you’re a fan of Venetian Snares and the like, this is a good bet for you to download (it was only available as a digital album). The opener, Analogue Arcade, is rather mellow for this stuff, even settling on a pleasant house beat while glitchy harmonics weave in and out. Yeah, you aren’t getting much more of that beat on this release. Second cut Eve lets loose with the cacophonic rhythms, then things go down Squarepusher’s frenetic jazzy acid avenue for a few tracks after. In fact, the next number of tracks all kind of blend together, so short as they are and sharing similar aesthetics, if not actual musical content. It can get to be a bit much though, so thank God Lodsb cuts it back by track six (Bubblegum Hypothesis, if you’re wondering, but it’s not like IDM song titles are meant to make a lick of sense).

Apparently Lodsb has a background in orchestral music study too, which becomes apparent on tracks like Deer Ride, Juno, Rubiq, and Zebra, where arrangements are cut up to form whole new compositions. Heck, Deer Ride forgoes any spastic breaks altogether, and if there is any glitch trickery at play, it sure doesn’t make itself known, sounding as seamless as though Lodsb was conducting a one-hundred-twenty string section himself. Mind, it seems every IDM wonk has to show off his classical capabilities in such a manner, but it’s nice to have such music break up the breakcore on albums like this one.

Of course, music such as this remains incredibly niche, and if even the popular names in this scene hold little interest for you, I doubt lazer.eyes.love will sway your opinion on it. Cool as a curioso, but not much else.

Vector Lovers - Late Shift / Babette (Original TC Review)

Simple Records: 2008

(2013 Update:
Hoo boy, is this ever a brief review. Guess it came at that point where we didn't really care much to review singles at TC anymore, though occasionally something would pique our interest enough to give it a shot. Had I gotten to this sooner in this year, I'd probably have written something about how it was a shame this MP3 single was among the last of Vector Lovers' releases. But lo', he came out with another album this year! Yay and stuffs, I suppose.

Also, in case you're wondering, yes, I do have an obsession with all-night noodle houses. They're quite tasty after a night at the clubs!)


IN BRIEF: Herbert would nod approvingly.

When last TranceCritic left Martin Wheeler, he was still manipulating R2-droid squeaks and squawks into sweet serenades while grooving to electro-coo’ disco dandies in Neo-Tokyo. That was a few years back now, and he has released a couple more albums since his lovely little self-titled debut, remaining quite on the fringe of dance music awareness, sadly. It certainly wasn’t due to a lack of promotion on Soma’s part, but perhaps joining up with Will Saul’s Simple Records will help spur some renewed interest in Vector Lovers, by way of this simple little MP3 single.

It would appear Wheeler has found more funk to his flavor, as both Late Shift and Babette get down on some fine tech-house grooves. The latter is more straightforward than the former, bumping along nicely before gradually bringing in deep pulsing synths accentuated with brief bright stabs. It’s rather old-school sounding as far as tech-house is concerned; I’m quite reminded of the kind of material you’d hear the odd German kick out around the early-mid 90s. As solid of an offering Babette is though, Late Shift easily steals the show.

Even right off, the track’s cool-groovin’ synths and mildly funky rhythms are win, conjuring up 2am cruises through lonely metropolitan streets in search of an afterhours or all-night noodle-house. But this is par for the course where Vector Lovers is concerned. What lifts Late Shift into quirky class territory are funny little sound-effect samples littered throughout. Like what, ask you? Like these, I reply: breezy winds; click-clacky kitchen utensils; a noise that sounds like a saxophone player struggling with a broken reed, but is actually Wheeler’s squeaky fridge door. No, really! ...well, according to him, anyway. Whatever it is, it isn’t used as gimmicky noise either, but rather as though it’s some kind of jazzy instrument. My friends, that’s just daftly brilliant!

Folks who’ve followed Wheeler over the years will definitely enjoy this. If you’ve never taken the Vector Lovers plunge though, this is a fine single to get your feet wet with. While it may not encompass all that is his discography, it highlights his intriguing musicianship just the same.

Various - LateNightTales: Fatboy Slim

LateNightTales: 2007

This was a release I was supposed to review at TranceCritic, but totally flaked on because I had no idea how to approach it. For one thing, I knew very little about LateNightTales, other than it was yet another compilation series dedicated to showcasing the esoteric tastes of musicians and DJs. Fair enough, but with Back To Mine, Choice, DJ-Kicks (sometimes), and who knows what else doing the same thing, I had difficulty drumming up interest in this one. Second of all, the music contained within is very, very, very un-electronic, and for a website that already frequently skewed away from its main focus (trance!), going that far off our beaten path probably wasn't wise (or just bad for traffic). So now that I'm writing on a blog dedicated to all electronic music, but often skew towards heavy metal, prog rock, and even country (but not Western – I do have standards here), finally tackling Fatboy Slim's contribution to LateNightTales just be honky-dory.

I don't know if it's a running theme with this series, but Monsieur Normane Cookie opted for something akin to a mixtape here. He even goes at length in the liner notes about the lost art of the craft, which strikes me as odd even for 2007. I'll grant all the kiddie-Joes out there likely don't care much about it, but almost every music connoisseur I know of appreciates the concept of mixtaping, if not the practical application of it.

And as this is a mixtape mix, there’s hardly any mixing at all; mostly quick blending as a song ends and another begins, if even that. Frankly, I doubt anyone could reasonably mix this music anyway. It opens with a bunch of sunny, psychedelic rock by the likes of Nick Lowe, Mink de Ville, and The Modern Lovers that screams ‘70s, only to follow it up with a run of obscure funk, soul, and reggae of the same era. Oh yeah, Fatboy Slim’s penchant for fun-time music’s in full effect here, and as a bloke who’s undoubtedly gathered tons of vinyl in his time, Mr. Cook’s gonna give us one heck of a history lesson on this stuff.

Since this is such old music meant for singles and radio play, they all breeze by in a hurry, no track exceeding four minutes. There are a few recognizable names in the back half (Willie Nelson, The Velvet Underground, Taj Mahal, Sly & The Family Stone), often rubbing shoulders with utter unknowns like ‘60s r&b outfit The Sandpebbles and calypso singer (plus actor) Robert Mitchum. And of course there’s cute novelty bits like Vince Guaraldi Trio’s Linus And Lucy (yes, from those Peanuts cartoons), Fatboy Slim doing a Senor Coconut-ish cover of Kraftwerk’s Radioactivity (!!), and ending everything with some poetry as recited by Bootsy Collins (!!?).

So an entertaining CD, all said, though not the most essential. If you don’t mind taking a stroll down music roads less travelled, this volume of LateNightTales is a handy soundtrack.