I DID IT! I DID IT! ...and yet, there's still so much to do.

Well.

Guess I should write something here. I mean, this was originally the endpoint, the stretch goal, the final target, the reason for all existence. Okay, maybe not that significant an achievement, but definitely a task I was determined to do to completion, and by José, I actually did it, even if it took far longer than initially intended. To what end, though? What have I learned in listening to every album I own in alphabetical order? Have I gained any greater insight into my music consuming habits, any deeper understanding of my own sense of self for having done this? Or was this all just one big silly diversion for everyone involved, something to wile the months away like a never-ending Let's Play series. Come to think of it, why did I even start this in the first place? Cue the flashback dissolve.

I've mentioned my motivation in doing this was to spice up my listening habits, but what was the ignition that spurred me forward? To my recollection (it's been over seven years now), I'd hit a state of utter apathy with contemporary music. I felt no desire to explore new stuff because all the new stuff I was being told was the best contemporary music had to offer was frightfully dull. The critical vanguards of electronic music may have moved on from 'minimal', but they remained devoted to 'deep and serious' sounds – or had flash-in-pan infatuations with funky novelties like disco edits. Meanwhile, the popular stuff was reaching peak bro, the likes of Guetta and Skrillex dominating the discourse.

If I'd seriously dug around, I'm sure I'd have found items that tickled my ears just fine, but the drive to do so simply wasn't there. I kept glancing back to the past, wondering what I may have missed or overlooked, including what I'd amassed in my own collection to that point. Over the course of nearly twenty years, I'd gathered around 500 albums into my possession, and while I had some favourites, many others had gone neglected in that time. With precious little new inspiring me, I figured then was as good as any point to revisit everything in some orderly fashion.

Writing about it was furthest from my mind, but after a year had passed, I realized there were plenty of notes, ideas and opinions germinating with each item I listened to. Was there much interest in music bloggers anymore though? Everything was moving on to video reviews and podcasting, which seemed like a fun idea if I could find an angle for it. Maybe I could just start writing again, get the creative fires sparking, see where it led me, and worry about the other stuff later. And since I'd just be writing for myself, I wouldn't have to worry about all those niggling formalities 'proper music journalists' do, which made the TranceCritic experience an utter chore towards its end. Take a few creative chances here and there for my own amusement, while waxing philosophical should the inspiration strike me. Mmm, that's the stuff.

Another reason I revisited all my music was the killer combo of record store closures and financial constraints. Even if I wanted to go hunting about for new tunes, my options had substantially dwindled by the year 2011. Yet, I soon found myself gainfully employed, and online stores like Amazon and Bandcamp were providing me with greater access to obscure items than I'd ever had before. As a result my CD collection has nearly tripled in size from when I first started this adventure, a feat I would have found unfathomable back then. No wonder my early estimates of when I'd finish were woefully under-guessed.

Not only did increased purchasing power help fill in a bunch of blanks I'd passed over, but spurred me on to unexpected discoveries of other items along the way. Some I'd never have even stumbled upon if it wasn't from what little 'research' I do for these reviews. All the dark ambient's the most obvious example, but plenty others too (modern ambient techno, ancient Berlin-School krautrock, synthwave ....Oak Ridge Boys). If there's any real takeaway from having devoted so much time to this blog, it's how I'm enjoying that insatiable hunt for music like never before.

Where does that leave me now, though? What's next? My initial plan once I reached The Hacker & Eric Borgo's Zone was to move on to another non-music writing project I'd put on the backburner, but I've devoted nearly six years to this little corner of the interwebs – seems anticlimactic to just up and leave it fallow as is.

Besides, I'm not really done, am I? Even as I ran through this final stretch of CDs, I was still acquiring new music along the way, 80 album's worth (holy cow, how did that happen!?). Plus, there's all those CDs I listened to in the first year that I never wrote reviews for, and it's just wrong to not include some of my all time favourite albums in this blog. My last Banco de Gaia review can't be You Are Here, it must be Big Men Cry! All said, I've currently got at least another 200 reviews I can do, which I'm obviously going to do. It must be done, the OCD compels me.

But I feel I could do more, explore ideas for other features. Bring back 5-song mini-reviews or Spotify Suggestions (senseless or otherwise). Maybe even get a Patreon going for request reviews. Yeah, I know I've got nowhere near the readership to make a living off that service – I'm hilariously bad at self-promotion – but as I may not be so gainfully employed at my regular job in the next couple years (yay restructuring), it's foolish of me not to consider alternative means of income, even if it's little more than side-scratch.

Food for thought anyway. For now, I'm taking a little break from the blog to focus on another project that demands attention. Let me know if any of these ideas are of interest, or if you might have suggestions of your own.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Zuma

Reprise Records: 1975

Sometimes the best way to get out of a depressive funk is to abandon one group of music buddies, reconvene with another group of music buddies, and hang out on the beaches of Malibu getting all up in that mid-'70s bachelor life. Lots of booze, lots of 'rawk', probably some drugs too, though none of that super-heavy shit that had been going around, leading to too many deaths of colleagues. Or maybe a little on the psychedelic bent, Zuma marking the point where Neil Young started singing about ancient Aztec and Incan lore, the sort of stuff one can't help but be inspired by after ingesting a little psilocybin. Me, I just go and listen to every album I own in alphabetical order, but if writing music about Cortez the killer and mythical lady-birds is what does it for you, have at it, guy.

Weird inspirations aside, one of the reasons Zuma came to fruition is Young's old band Crazy Horse had found themselves a new guitarist after the passing of Danny Whitten. It'd only been a few years since then, but in Neil Young terms, that's practically a lifetime, a whole stage of his career cycled through. Insisting he come and check out the dude's chops on the axe (or however you say it), Mr. Young was impressed at how well he could perform both lead and rhythm guitar parts on such classic Crazy Horse collaborations like Cowgirl In The Sand and Down By The River.

That's because this here Frank Sampedro was a huge fan of the group, often jamming away on his own to the album Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. So much so, in fact, that ol' “Pedro” joked he'd probably played those songs more than Young and Whitten ever had. Feeling that familiar fire that made their earlier works such kinetic monuments to classic rock, The Young & The Restless Horse hit the studio with the same carefree approach as before, cranking out tunes about blue barstools, stupid girls, and other love-lorn chestnuts.

Aside from Cortez The Killer though (sounding kinda' short to my ears at seven-and-a half minutes, since I'm used to the live Weld version), Zuma doesn't have much in the way of classic Young material. Some good, solid rock music, for sure, a few tunes of which are little more than excuses for the band to just go off while bemoaning past relationships (as I said, a total bachelor fest). There's also Danger Bird, the closest thing to a companion piece to Cortez The Killer in its epic sense of scope, though it doesn't reach the seven minute mark, nor has been trotted out for live sessions as often, so it's unsurprising the song goes overlooked in the annals of Young et Cheval de Fou music.

Which is Zuma in a nutshell. The players involved were basically rediscovering their synergy with this outing, and would create greater works together after this.

The Hacker & Eric Borgo - Zone (Original TC Review)

Tsuba Records: 2008

(2018 Update:
So The Hacker's kept himself busy, even reconvened with Ms. Herve for another collaborative album, but I can't say the same about Eric Borgo. His Discoggian data dries up shortly after this. The remixers, Ivan Smagghe and Tim Paris, collectively called It's A Fine Line - mostly did their own things independent from one another, but astoundingly reconvened a couple years ago to release a debut album under this project name. Whatever was the hold-up, guys?

As for the tunes, they're, um, there, and, uh, haven't aged well outside the 'minimal' era. So, they're, uh... meh, what else is there to say here?

Hey, did you know, for a while, this was to be the last item I was going to listen to in this massive undertaking of mine? It's not anymore, but for a while, it was! Boy, sure is swell it's not this anymore. Would have made for a lame, limp note to end it all with.)


IN BRIEF: A fine offering, but not from the name you’d immediately expect.

Let’s cut to the chase. You’ve probably clicked on this review because you saw The Hacker in the title and are wondering what Michel Amato’s been up to since he and Caroline Herve decided to put their famed partnership to the side so he could retreat back into the relative underground. Eh? Oh, you already knew he’s continued to serve up a steady stream of perfectly sleazy singles, hooked back up with Miss Kittin on occasion, and generally maintained his name as one to keep an eye out on, even if his brand of electro-body-techno isn’t quite as popular as it once was and still should be. Damn, but you guys are good!

Ah, so it’s the lesser-known name Eric Borgo that has gotten your curiosity then. His story is quite similar to many in this business: after earning his pay as a DJ for most of the 90s, he managed to gain the attention of Amato and Olivier Raymond (Oxia) at the turn of the decade, such that he’s had the opportunity to release a few singles with them since. Last year he and Oxia had a minor electro-house hit with Another Man, and now it would seem he’s teaming up with The Hacker to see if they can work some music magic together on a new single entitled Zone.

Unfortunately, magic is rather lacking on this effort. Granted, the bassline oozes suitable sleaze, and ominous techno pads add some atmosphere on occasion, but everything else is just far too sparse and uninteresting to make Zone anything greater than an early tech-house set piece. The main hook, such as it is, consists of a tuneless looping plinky riff, harkening to techno’s robotic heritage but is devoid of the necessary craftiness that’ll lift this above the ‘minimal’ glut. And no, playing around with layered echo-and-delay effects does not give it character; such tricks have grown as tired and cliché within techno circles lately as the super-sawwave breakdown did in epic trance. Considering Amato’s name is tied to this track, the charm his productions are known for is surprisingly absent from Zone.

Luckily, the flip offers something more than ‘minimal’ monotony. Ivan Smagghe (former Black Strobe member; Fabric and Suck My Deck contributor; Word Perfect spell-check nightmare) is the larger name behind this remix, and along with Tim Paris has crafted a remix that, although gloomier than the A-side, offers much more personality. Simple choppy rhythms, eerie mangled hooks, and disconcerting atmospheric fills provide a track that’ll turn a tech-house set towards the sinister side of clubbing. And while it may not have much spring, this remix will nonetheless satisfy for those who enjoy inducing a little paranoia into their listening habits.

So a simple little release we have here, folks. The keeper is definitely the remix, but it isn’t enough to earn Zone high marks. As for The Hacker (yes, the guy you really did click this review for), this is something of a stumble for his discography. If he insists on doing collaborations, maybe it’d be best for him to stick with Oxia or Kittin.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved.

Wednesday Campanella - Zipangu

Tsubasa Records: 2015

As I listened to my third Wednesday Campanella album (their first proper LP), I was struck with a curious quandary: just how important are lyrics in my music? I'm not talking about whether I need them or not – obviously a guy who listens to a lot of 'techno' doesn't require much more in the vocal department than some looping sample of downed systems. And that's not to say I'm anti-vocals either. There are plenty of lyricists I vibe on for their metaphors, similes, witty wordplay, fun phonetics, and singing cadence, artists I'd never have enjoyed if I didn't dig on the words they manifest. By the same token though, I don't necessarily need to understand the lyrics either, as I've taken in many an ethnic chant and foreign language with no greater appreciation of them other than they sound good in a their musical context. Heck, there's even a number of English singers out there where I may know the language, but have a difficult time understanding their words (death metal growlers, vocoder robots, Jamaican toasters, Jon Anderson of Yes).

So when listening to the opening track of Syakushain (rebel leader of the Ainu against the Matsumae clan), it just sounds like a charming, peppy traditional throwback tune with woodblocks and KOM_I rap-singing along. I had no idea she was actually doing something of a Japanese nightlife tour (I... think?) until watching the video with translated subtitles, and I found myself enjoying the tune more with that added context. On the other hand, the song Ra (sun god of Egyptian lore) also has an elaborate video with subtitles, but I'm not sure what the song's actually about beyond just a big, anthemic pop song. The subtitles also revealed more English words than I initially picked up, on account its mixed in with equal amounts Japanese, and KOM_I's brisk, accented singing makes it difficult for my stupid anglophone brain to keep up. I know the words, but don't glean any deeper meaning from them.

Thus, I'm generally reduced to enjoying what I can from Wednesday Campanella on 'dumb levels' again. Ooh, Uran-chan, that's got some cool juke production going on for it, and a neat spacey vibe too, which makes sense since I hear Astroboy in there (Uran-chan is 'Astrogirl'). Medusa (oh come on, you know who she is) is a fun j-pop house romp, while nifty guitar licks in Wright Kyoudai (flyboys) almost lend the tune a Japanese-Balearic vibe.

Yet, I also feel producer Kenmochi Hidefumi's trying just a bit too hard in fusing contemporary EDM with traditional Japanese songcraft. Could have done without the trap in Chohakkai (a Saiyuki character?), the mah-ssive, overblown snare crashes of Nishi Tamao (Google's got nothing), and he really, really, really loves abusing the stutter effects throughout – even BT would suggest pulling back some. Still, Zipangu is nothing if not a diverse album, which is more than can be said for most contemporary pop riding dance music's jock. Great videos too.

ZerO One - zerO One

Waveform Records: 1998

I never realized this before, though it makes perfect sense with nearly twenty years (!) of hindsight available. Through the high times and the lows, it seems the two acts that have consistently kept the lights on at Waveform Records HQ is ZerO One and Sounds From The Ground, and now that I've taken in plenty of their offerings, I understand why. Kevin Dooley, he has a similar songcraft sensibility to Misters Elliot Jones and Nick Woolfson, striking that perfect middle-ground of competently made, easy-going, dubby downtempo vibes. Never have I heard anything from them that was bad, boring, or bunk, but seldom do they reach the upper echelons of their genre either. Very, very good, absolutely, some tunes doing that heart melting thing many downtempo acts have subjected the ol' blood pumper to. I can't say I'd ever recommend ZerO One or Sounds From The Ground as an introductory act to this scene though, their roles more like a hearty side-dish complimenting the main course. Buttery mashed potatoes to the beef-steak of Kruder & Dorfmeister and Higher Intelligence Agency. Yet, for as long as they've floated around each other's circles, it's surprising they haven't collaborated at some point. Strange, that.

Anyhow, it all starts somewhere, and for Mr. Dooley, that's with a two-decade old (!!) self-titled debut album. Amazing that the ZerO One brand has kept on keepin' to this day, as listening to this CD in the context of the year 1998, I'm surprised anyone gave it much notice. Ambient techno such as this hadn't been in vogue for at least a half-decade, vanguards of the sound like HIA and Autechre having moved on with their respective careers to other pastures. If you were making super-chill electro-dub, chances were you were adopting contemporary production tricks like glitch effects or retro synths into your arsenal. Not ZerO One though, his stuff simple and refined – no need for fussy gimmicks when your musicianship if perfectly fine as is. And Waveform Records, they like themselves some MOR ambient dub more than anything else. Keeps the label's followers sated while they indulge in leftfield shoegaze rock, or whatever it was that Liquid Zen dude was on about.

Now that I've reached the third paragraph, it's time for the obligatory particulars among the eight tracks that make up zerO One. Waken and Trust have nifty little acid lines playing throughout. Nothing To Fight About and Hell is Cooling Off playfully bounce along, while On The Threshold gets as close to ambient techno as I've ever heard Mr. Dooley go. If you want something straight out of HIA's cookbook, super-chill Mind Over Mind has you covered. And I can't complete this review without tying it back to Sounds From The Grounds somehow, so Seek Not Outside Yourself and I Like That reminds me of that duo, if they'd been brought up in electro's realm instead. Seriously, why haven't these two camps collaborated yet? I'm sure Waveform wouldn't mind in the slightest.

Pole Folder - Zero Gold

Bedrock Records: 2005

This has to be one of the most '90s sounding progressive albums I've ever heard. Unfortunately for Pole Folder, Zero Gold came out in 2005, half a decade past when having a top notch '90s progressive album would make serious bank (in that scene, anyway).

For sure this album had its fans and supporters, especially from proponents for progressive purity (I think Progressive-Sounds gave it a 12/10, with a seal of Digweed Approved), but by the mid-'00s, most folks were well past vibing on anything sounding like it came from the Clinton Years. Big beat was dead. Tech step was dead. Happy hardcore was so very, very dead. Instead, newer fresher sounds like liquid funk, electro house, minimal-tech, and whatever it is you want to call Pendulum's style ('Pendulum Jungle'?) was getting the buzz, not to mention a rediscovering of '80s aesthetics after the '90s had disowned it. Progressive house was no different, poppier McProg singles having massive success in the wake of the darker, super-serious 'prog' that came before. By the year 2005, the transition was complete, progressive of days past but a shadow of its former glory, Zero Gold left an album out of time when the kids just wanted to hear another Gabriel & Dresden breakdown. And people wonder why Digweed went 'minimal' after this.

Of course, we're over a decade removed from all that, so the fact Zero Gold was released in 2005 is a moot point. You can throw this album on today and enjoy it for all its '90s-ness, (oh my, Scared To Lose could have been an Erotica-era Madonna track!), maybe even more so since that decade's music has seen some rejuvenation in recent years. Always twenty years, always.

Fancy yourself some of that vintage cinematic trip-hop that made Massive Attack huge stars? Pole Folder's got you well covered, tracks like Abrasion, Waterfalls Of Love, and Faith In Me perfectly custom made for the credit roll of a mid-budget cyberpunk thriller. And speaking of, dear me, does Inner Turmoil ever want to be a Fluke track as heard in The Matrix. Other 'prog' beasts include Salvation On Slavery Sins and London, while Mr. Folder also mixes things up with the broken beats in the spacier Before It All Changes. Elsewhere, in case you absolutely had to have a 'twinkle prog' outing in your 2005 album, Morning Crow does inch around the fringes of that sound.

Like any good '90s prog album, tunes are nicely spaced between the downbeat, lyrical pieces and the club-ready uptempo jams, with enough variety holding your attention throughout. At ten tracks though, Zero Gold feels short, like it's missing a proper coda moment. As the final cut on the album, the energetic Before It All Changes leaves you wanting, suggesting there's more to come after, even if it's just an ambient outro. Maybe that hanging feeling was intended to lead into a sophomore album, but it never happened, Zero Gold remaining Pole Folder's lone LP effort (so sayeth Lord Discogs).

The Police - Zenyatta Mondatta

A&M Records: 1980/2003

Probably the easiest collection of music from The Police I got into as a kid, though the larger themes obviously went well over my head. I had no idea Sting was singing about the degradation of our communication skills when infatuation overwhelms us, I just liked singing “de do do do, de da da da.” A peppy tune about a bird lost in a mine is a whole 'lotta fun, never mind having no clue what the simile's about. And isn't it funny how some sweaty General is fascinated by a gorilla girl in Bombs Away? Or Man In A Suitcase, which is clearly about a tiny man who literally lives in a suitcase? Haha, it's the sort of silly stuff Raffi might do a song about. Still, that first song, Don't Stand So Close To Me, seems so serious considering it's about cooties and all that – the chorus is just as catchy as the rest of 'em on though.

The fact that Zenyatta Mondatta ended up with so many fun, simple songs wasn't by conscious choice by Sting, Stewart, and Andy. After a rigorous tour in support of Regatta de Blanc, they reconvened for some studio time, but were right out the door for more touring a month later. Their third album was rather rushed as a result, the band mostly sticking to the reggae and punk fusion they'd grown incredibly comfortable and adept at performing. They were definitely itching to break out of that mould though, little hints and nuggets of their impending political-heavy, New Wave turn lurking here and there.

Take Driven To Tears, a sober reflection of the strife of poverty-stricken people, coupled with a lightly uplifting turnaround with When The World Is Running Down, You Make The Best Of What's Still Around. For the longest time, I thought these were the same song, so perfectly thematically paired as they are. Meanwhile, songs like Voices Inside My Head, Shadows In The Rain, Behind My Camel, and The Other Way Of Stopping find the band indulging in looser song-writing, some of which contain no lyrics at all, or input from other members either. Funny enough, Behind My Camel, the lone Andy Summers tune on here, was so hated upon by Sting that he refused to play bass for it, leaving it to Andy. It went on to win a Grammy for Instrumental Rock a couple years later, so what does Sting know.

And yes, the shift into broader political themes definitely announces The Police have arrived in The '80s. The Afghanistan War (“oh, 'guerrilla girl'”, Teenage Sykonee said), increased pressures to fit in a rapidly consumerist society... big issues were afoot, and damn if Sting & Co. weren't gonna' use their star platform to start telling their audience about them. Er, once they have the time to properly do it, that is, on an album that's not as rushed as Zenyatta Mondatta. For now, have a sampling with the familiar, spirited 'cod reggae'.

Various - Zentertainment 2004

Ninja Tune: 2004

My early years in the The Big City was tough, financial frugality forcing me to be ultra-picky in what new music I'd buy for myself. After Shadow Records folded though, where could I find a quick fix of jazzy, downtempo urban vibes on a poor student's income? Hello, Ninja Tune, what have you here? A low-budget sampler called Zentertainment 2004. I'd kinda' forgotten about the Ninja folk at that point (despite the 3CD box set Xen Cuts sitting on every store shelf, always), so this looked as handy a reintroduction to their tunes as any.

And the CD opens with exactly the right stuff I was expecting, Skalpel's 1958 the sort of broken-beat, jazzdance, cut'n'paste track one can't help but associate with the label that Coldcut built. Yeah, there were other prominent prints that dabbled in the sound, but they had no Cinematic Orchestra or Hexstatic on their roster. Speaking of, Hexstatic's super-funky Chase Me comes next, about as vintage of Ninja Tune funk as you can get. In fact, at the time I heard it, I couldn't help but get a nagging sense of the label not evolving much since the '90s. I didn't mind it, but surely there'd been a few new sounds they could be promoting in the year 2004 too. What even was going down in London undergrounds around that time anyway?

Ah, here's a new cat, some dude by the name of Diplo. His Don't Fall is kinda' different from what I normally expected of Ninja Tune, a broken-beat that's got a prominent half-step shuffle going for it. All those cut-up funk and jazz samples though, doesn't sound too different from Amon Tobin's efforts. Maybe if he focuses more on his rhythms, and doesn't rely so much on emulating what Ninja Tune alum have done, this Diplo chap might find himself a healthy career.

Like that Sixtoo guy, at the end of the CD. Holy cow, his Boxcutter Emporium is over ten minutes of various vibes, an utterly epic outing of trip-hop, illbient, and the sort of instrumentals RZA would get weak in the knees over. And what's with that weird mid-section, with the half-step rhythms and skitchy bassline that's like a buzzing sawblade cutting through the beats? Pretty dope, is what, definitely what I envisioned getting hyped in the London underground. And the dude's Canadian too? Mark my words, us Canucks will be defining this weird sound in the future years, believe you me!

A few familiar Ninja Tune names round out Zentertainment 2004 (Jaga Jazzist, Wagon Christ, Blockhead, cLOUDDEAD), plus the dancehall/grime scene gets a look-in too (Lotek HiFi's Ram Dancehall, Infinite Livez' Worcestershire Sauce). Yep, that's about as tidy a sum-up of Ninja Tune in the year 2004 as you're gonna' get. Still, none of this is exclusive to this CD, so unless you find it dirt cheap in the pawn shops or you're a Ninja completist, there isn't much reason to get Zentertainment 2004 fourteen years on.

Flowjob - Zentertainment (Original TC Review)

Iboga Records: 2008

(2018 Update:
Oh man, while re-listening to this album, I came up with the perfect analogy to describe it. Get ready for this, it'll blow your mind. So, like, you know how cars have, like, five gears, with the first being the slowest, and the fifth being the fastest? Flowjob's debut album, Support Normality, was often hitting that peak of fourth gear, but would have been super-boss if it had a track or two that hit the fifth. Zentertainment, on the other hand, seems stuck in second gear for most of its runtime, occasionally squeaking into third, but seldom with much lasting success. Isn't that such an awesome analogy? What do you mean a George Harrison quote's coming to mind?

After this album, Mads Tinggaard left the group, but Joakim Hjørne's carried on the Flowjob banner to this day, even releasing an album in 2016. I browsed some of his recent material, and it sounds decent enough for contemporary prog-psy, but not much distinctive compared to most other stuff out there, missing that super-infectious groove these early efforts provided. May have to dig further to find out whether it disappeared after Mads' departure, or if it was a gradual thing.)


IN BRIEF: Sophomore stumble.

Strong debuts are common in the rock music industry. Whether thanks to initial innocence, talented hunger, or a nurtured push, such musicians often bring vital enthusiasm to their freshman efforts. Following that up with a solid second effort tends to be far more difficult, though, for a number of reasons that needn’t be brought up at this point; anyone with a passing familiarity with the music business would know them anyway. However, because dance music is a market dominated more by the single than the album, the dreaded Sophomore Slump occurs far less often. Heck, despite dozens of EPs, some producers don’t even get around to releasing a full-length. In this regard, the psy branch of EDM probably has the most in common with rock counterparts, as it is quite possibly the only large scene within dance culture that is primarily dominated by LPs.

As such, like rockers, many psy acts fall prey to second-album stumbles. Where it seems there’s agreeable debut albums from countless names monthly, strong follow-ups are increasingly rare. It’s as though all their great ideas are used up in one shot, and instead of easing through the in-between with singles, they rush out with a second album that sounds like a bunch of B-sides to the first.

And does Flowjob’s new album Zentertainment succumb to these pratfalls? Come-come now, surely you’ve learned how these introductory paragraphs go? Fortunately for the Denmark duo, it is only marginally so.

For those just tuning in to the Flowjob sound, Misters Hjorne and Tinggaard made an immediate impact with their 2006 debut album Support Normality on the burgeoning prog-psy label Iboga. I've already covered that release, but in case you’re not up for reading one of our older, rather clumsily-written reviews (we were still new at it, honest!), here’s the abridged version: infectiously groovy, wonderfully vibey, free-flowing prog that flirted between house and trance throughout, with very little actual psy influences considering the label it appeared on. Although some of the tracks on that album could have used more energetic climaxes, Flowjob’s sound was still highly enjoyable. Two years on now, where do we find the Denmark duo?

A surface scan reveals them to be cruising along right where they left off. Flowjob’s distinct neo-Tokyo electro-coo’ sound is all over Zentertainment, so if you come in looking for more of that, you’re in for a treat. And on the rhythmic end, they’re just as infectious as ever. You could potentially ignore a track for most of its duration, but once something grabs your attention, it hooks you in and you’re locked in for the ride. A welcome addition to their production are craftier basslines that are unafraid to leap off the loop-rails. If things are sounding fine and dandy, though, then what’s the problem I hinted at above?

Frankly, what’s missing from Zentertainment is a sense of thrill. I really don’t want to compare albums because even if it is not the case I have to assume the reader is coming into this one cold; however, when a follow-up lacks the same energy a debut has, comparisons are inevitably made. Flowjob has scaled back their music such that it comes off quaint and pleasant now, which of itself is fine for casual moments or warm-up periods at parties. But when you hear potential for more lurking beneath you can’t help but come away with lingering thoughts of “what if...” This was what impeded Support Normality from reaching some truly exhilarating highs, and now that Zentertainment finds Flowjob in an even mellower mood, their music comes off very subdued. The first half of this album does maintain a decent sense of flow, though. It’s all pleasant sounding with spacey pads, catchy (if overused) vocal samples, and undeniably groovy rhythms.

Once the lovely trance vibes of Don’t Believe In Mirrors ends, though, chances are you’ll be wanting Zentertainment to either ratchet-up the energy or offer something new. Flowjob provides the latter; unfortunately, it seriously drops the album into a kind of middling variation of their sound with lower BPMs and odd hooks. There are moments that’ll still grab your attention but unlike prior work, it never seems to go anywhere. It sounds as though the duo, like so many sophomore efforts, are trying to experiment in areas where they don’t have quite the musical fortitude to make work, all the while their strengths are sorely hindered in the process. And unfortunately, it ends the album on a rather limp note.

A bad album, then? No, not really. For the most part, it is still enjoyable, and if anything Zentertainment is charming enough for chiller moments. If you missed out on Flowjob’s debut, however, this one probably won’t do much for you.

Written by Sykonee for TranceCritic.com, 2008. © All rights reserved.

Mick Chillage - Zen Diagrams

...txt: 2015/2016

Oh look, another ambient/Berlin-School album featuring four lo-o-o-ong tracks. Makes sense, right, doing one from the new school, then going way back to the old school, and now back to the new school again. If not for the alphabetical stipulation, I'm sure y'all would expect Yes' Tales Of Topographic Oceans next. That would be followed by something from, say, Lingua Lustra (he's got a four track LP in his discography, right?), then a Klaus Schulze or Popol Vuh outing (kinda' missing those guys thus far), and for the sake of pattern-breaking, a '90s Fax+ outing as a capper. Thus would conclude my “Experimental Ambient Albums With Four Really, Really Long Tracks” theme week. But I only do theme weeks when they coincidentally align with a large of releases having the same word as a title. On that note, how much are y'all looking forward to a whole month of Ambient... albums, eh? Kidding, kidding! (...or am I?)

I've taken in a fair bit of Mick Chillage's music now, and I can't claim it's all stuck with me. Saudade, that's easy, what with the roof of icicles instantly reminding me that's one cold, chilly album. Paths and (M)odes, though, are a little more sketchy. I do remember a super-long composition on Paths, and (M)odes being rather minimalist compared to his other works, but beyond the usual pleasant, cool, spacey vibe Mick's music often parlays, particulars escape me off hand.

I was initially worried that Zen Diagrams was gonna' be another case of that, especially since it only has four tracks on it, each simply titled Zen Diagrams 1-4. It's about as faceless as ambient can go without going for SAW2 levels of non-naming. Three of the four pieces hover between fifteen and twenty minutes, the remaining one inching near the half-hour mark. The CD versions are shorter compared to the original digital ones, a result of needing to edit things to fit CD length. If you just go with a download though, or happened to have gotten these tracks off the ...txt Nagual memory stick compilation, you can enjoy an additional three and a half minutes of meandering ambient drones!

I riff on 'meandering ambient drone', but Mick's usually pretty good at it, and Zen Diagrams features some lovely pieces of sonic wallpaper and skydome sounds throughout. He's always been effective at creating space, and here's no exception, Part 1 vast and roomy with its synths, subtle melodies distant but never out of range. Part 2 goes as droney as ambient typically does, but do I ever want to lay back at the planetarium as it plays too. Part 3 (aka: the Big Track) is in no hurry to get anywhere, quite content in taking in the scenery as it comes, even if it's a rather frigid landscape in these nocturnal alpine climes. Part 4 indulges in less calming moods, even getting rather twitchy at parts, but I suppose you needed something off-kilter to break any monotony this album may have.