Pet Shop Boys - Introspective

Parlaphone: 1988/2018

It's no secret Pet Shop Boys' success had as much to do with appealing to club culture as it was cranking out the radio hits. For their first couple LPs though, there was a clear separation of the two, the albums-proper containing the regular songs, and the EPs, singles, and dance compilations providing the extended disco versions of the hits. Which is how it was always done, or at least since the advent of the 12” records pressed specifically for DJ use. People at home ain't got time for pop tunes that don't wrap up in three-to-four minutes, while them crazies in the club just want that beat to keep going on an' on an' on an' on an'...

It was astoundingly audacious, then, for Misters Lowe and Tennant to craft an album so wholeheartedly embracing club culture while defiantly bucking the standards of pop music. There's only six tracks on Introspective, which under normal circumstances would be enough for an EP. Ah, but these are long songs, some peaking out at over nine minutes in length – the shortest, I Want A Dog, runs at six-fifteen minutes. By comparison, their longest prior LP song was One More Chance, clocking in at five twenty-eight. And as if getting Chicago house legend Frankie Knuckles in the studio with them wasn't clear enough Pet Shop Boys were all-in with this direction, they even released Introspective with a triple-vinyl option in its first run for maximum DJing efficiency.

It wasn't just Chicago house the lads from London were cribbing from. Freestyle was pretty big in the Latin clubbing areas of America too, and Domino Dancing offers nods to that genre's biggest sonic signifiers: the broken beat, and the orchestral hit. Speaking of the latter, the chap often credited with creating that distinct sound, Trevor Horn, offers his production on a couple tracks too. And hoo, can you tell, Left To My Own Devices and It's Alright featuring the sort of expansive studio work more befitting a big Broadway show than anything for an underground rinse-out (a full-on choir!). It almost makes the simple Knuckles groove of I Want A Dog quaint in comparison, but even he received quite the spit-shine compared to the rough stuff he released through Trax around the same time. No doubt having big studio bucks behind you can do wonders for the final result, and Pet Shop Boys were big clout havers indeed.

The songs themselves, while not as instantly identifiable as their early hits, are still effective in turning a worm in your ear. The topics range from their usual interpersonal observational material, to the mundane (he really wants that dog), all the way to the Big Picture. Like, after all the shit that went down in the '80s, it's has to be alright after, so long as we have dance music providing us with comfort. Oh, sweetie, if you only knew of the macabre and perverse sounds soon to emerge from clubland.

Lars Leonhard - Interstellar

self release: 2017

Dub techno is all well and good in exploring the minutiae of simple wonders and personal introspection, but those cavernous reverb effects demand the indulgence of wide open spaces too. Say, the huge vista of our galaxy - that's what I'm talkin' about. Oh, there's still something of an intimate nature behind this concept, a lonesome voyage into the realms of the impossibly vast, a singular path tread by those who need a little solitude from their hectic sociable lives.

Whatever the case, it's clear Lars Leonhard ventured outside his usual forte with Interstellar, at least at a conceptual level. We're still in his comfort zone of chill, groovy dub techno, some of which can up the pace a little towards the domain of prog-psy, though not much in this particular album's case. Also, I can only let myself down by all-too high expectations. Cover art alone had me hyped for all that hyperbolic stuff I gushed in the first paragraph, and Interstellar simply is not that. It's Lars Leonhard doing Lars Leonhard th'angs, and I'm fine with that no matter the context. I just need to temper my expectations some, lest I turn into one of those Game Of Thrones fans demanding ridiculous changes on something not catered specifically to me. I mean, if I wanted to hear exactly what I wanted to hear with this album, I should have done the logical thing and perform an incantation wherein I could possess Lars while he was in the studio, taking over his talents to create the album I was expecting. Or, at a more practical level, just make such a record myself. That almost sounds harder than studying the occult arts though.

Musically, there's only one thing throughout Interstellar that had me raising an eyebrow, a synth that kinda' sounds like an out-of-place car horn in Solar System, but that's minor. Nay, two things leaped out at me that slightly sullied my enjoyment of Interstellar, one of which really isn't the fault of Lars at all. First though, this album is kinda' tracky, in that it doesn't have quite the same narrative flow other releases of his have; just ten dub techno tunes with a light space theme running through them. I can dig on that, but it does put this album a step below something like 1549.

The other thing however – and I know this is an utterly selfish quibble – is the mastering sounds flatter compared to the rich, dubby texture I've come to know from Mr. Leonhard. Now, some of those releases were polished by the best in the game – it's unfair comparing the mastering of a self-release item like Interstellar to the EPs he put out on Ultimae Records. It's just when I have expectant notions of the cosmic grand already in my ear-brain, hearing a Lars Leonhard album that's a touch lower on his discography's scale can't help but leave me wanting. Maybe microspace is the better dub techno realm after all.

P-Ben - Influence

Motech: 2015

I do wonder how 'made' some producers and DJs feel throughout their career. Like, obviously releasing anything with some modicum of success is an achievement in itself, but how high do they set the bar for themselves? When Benjamin Geelen first set out on his techno journey, did he have aspirations to be recognized by the music's Mecca, or just be satisfied with any ol' fame in France? I almost have to suspect the former, and not just because his Discoggian bio name-drops a Jeff Mills set as a catalyst in Mr. Geelen pursuing this particular path of electronic music.

When it comes to European techno, there's generally been two, maybe three, distinct camps that, while finding some heritage from Detroit, are clearly striding out in their own fashion. You'd expect a chap from France would hitch his wagon to the Berliners or Italians (French techno? What is this?), but never underestimate that Detroit allure. Sure, a few early P-Ben singles couldn't help but ride that Berghain minimal bandwagon, but he found room for the more vibrant, soulful tech-house sounds originating from the Michigan city too. After flitting about various European labels (including setting up a couple of his own), Mr. Geelen landed a few remixing gigs for Kevin Saunderson's KMS print. Shortly after, he released this debut album with Motech, and the journey for Detroit recognition was complete. Nothing left to do but bask in the adulation of techno snobbery.

Thing is, I can't help but feel P-Ben's adhered to the Detroit legacy all a little too closely with Influence. There's little I hear that I can fault, but equally little I can recommend for those who don't want more of the same. Which has always been Detroit techno's crutch and its curse, hasn't it? An identifiable style that inspires many, with remarkable room for personal creativity should one indulge it, but insanely strict in keeping things within the boundaries of what it deems pure and true. Some claim Detroit techno can't even be Detroit techno unless it's made by someone from Detroit. Does that include those from Detroit who moved to Berlin, or vice-versa then?

Anyhow, P-Ben takes us through ten tracks of various strains of techno, most of which wouldn't sound out of place at any number of DEMF parties. Fifteen Years There Was Bones, From A South Place, and July touches on the groovier, future-funkier stuff. Good News and Ultimate get more on that bangin' action, though the track Bang surprisingly doesn't; nay, that one goes dubbier, as does Good News. Elsewhere, Analog Trip and Another Way strut the Jeff Mills minimalism, while Old Soul Music and This Song Is The Way offers a couple peak-time anthem options, including a 'house sermon' in the latter. So yeah, all the bases touched, with nary a duff cut among the lot. Just, y'know, coming off serviceable and straight-forward as well, a collection of techno tools for the Detroit faithful. And that's fine, really it is. It's fine.

Brasil & The Gallowbrothers Band - In The Rain, In The Noise

Cat Sun: 2010

I admit I'm not the most adventurous of music consumers, generally sticking to the lanes I'm most comfortable in. Like, compared to some vinyl hounds out there, who buy anything they find just to add to the piles in their sheds, I tend to be a little more selective. I'm not one to dive into second-hand shops or yard sales gathering up the numerous Anne Murray and Gordon Lightfoot compilations I find – heck, I don't even buy every Neil Young album, and I likes me some Neil Young more than others. When I do tread beyond my boundaries, it's almost always due to incidental circumstances that I do – taking on someone's former music collection, for instance. Turns out, there's another method of exploration I never knew existed, one that Databloem provided: the mystery splurge!

At their online website, they give you the option of a 'surprise box' of either ten or twenty CDs from their backstock, which had me rubbing my beard as I arched an eyebrow ever so inquisitively. The back of my conscience advised me that these selections couldn't possibly be the best they had to offer, most likely items that had failed to sell-through in their initial runs, and were now being offered as an enticing package to help clear stock. To which the hoarder in my brain responded, “Yes, and?” What if something unexpected and unique came about from this offer, leading me to a fresh path of musical discovery I hadn't considered yet? Plus, this being Databloem, I was confident they wouldn't go that far astray from what I was familiar with. Surely some mundane post-rock was the worst I had to brace myself for.

I honestly might have already covered an album or two from that 'surprise box' purchase, but this one was definitely the first that leaped out for me, exactly what I figured would be the bulk of what I was in for. Brasil & The Gallowbrothers Band is a group name that fits the post-rock bill, as does a title like In The Rain, In The Noise, with song titles like After Dark I Only Hear The Echoes Of Their Footsteps and Another Night In Cottage No. 21. This seems modus operani for this trio of Domink Savio, T.E.R., and Tomek Mirt, who've flitted about the Polish abstract-ambient scene for the past two decade now under various projects and guises, this particular album the last under this particular alias.

And there's some cool sounding stuff on here, a quirky, trippy minimalism that touches upon ambient's more psychedelic aspects - Spider Is Awaken sure reminds me of The Orb's Spanish Castles In Space in capturing pastoral chill. Still, this is all a very indie rock approach to the music, which seldom succeeds in drawing me in the same way as traditional ambient does. I don't know why that is. You'd have to deep-dive into my brain to figure that one out, and really, who want's to do that?

Waki - Hurry Up And Relax

Databloem: 2011

Oh, is that an order? A command? A decree? I... don't think I can take that kind of pressure. Like, have you ever had one of those nights where you have to wake up at a specific time to make important appointments, and you can't help but feel stressed out over the need to just relax and get to sleep? Having an album title literally demand that of you is that feeling, only ten times more so! What happens if I don't hurry up and relax as Waki instructs me to? Will I not get the full context of this record without my brain turning its attention span down several notches within the first few minutes? Or will something more sinister, more insidious happen, like a ticking time-bomb planted within my psyche that will implode if I don't chill the f' down soon enough? Should I consider the caffeine content within my bloodstream before throwing this album on, whether it will significantly impede upon my ability to relax within the ascribed amount of time Waki has allotted within, whatever that time-frame may be? Just so much pressure from a single title. Just... so much...

Even more disconcerting is the fact that Hurry Up And Relax is such a schizophrenic album, I couldn't chill out to it if I tried. You'd think this being out on Databloem, it'd contain some nice ambient passages, or pleasant downtempo vibes. And it does, but th'ar be techno here too. And Kraftwerkian electro-pop. And ...drum 'n' bass? No, wait, Drum & Space is atmospheric jungle – totally different! Still doesn't make a lick of sense on Databloem though.

Still, Wakisaka Akifumi has been a rather eclectic musician for much of his career, so genre dalliances isn't that much out of the norm. Mostly fussing about in Japanese obscurity while self-releasing his stuff throughout the '90s, he caught a small break getting picked up by trendy Cologne techno label Traum Schallplatten (Music For Lazy People), then shortly after got a release on the fledgling Databloem (Music For Waki People). This is the follow-up to that, released some seven years later. Guess he figured the 4CD retrospective Special he released in between would sate all the Waki-fans for a while.

When I say Hurry Up And Relax is schizo', I ain't messing. This album has the sort of lengthy, minimalist pieces of dense timbre you'd expect out of harmonic Japanese ambient, but will follow them up with something out of a totally different release. Stargate sounds like it should be in a Swayzak DJ set, not surrounded by two atonal drone compositions. How does Ocean's retro Berlin-School noodling mesh with the aforementioned Drum & Space? Going from the languid ambience of Family to the oddball electro-pop of Dr. Loveburger? Sure, I think these are all interesting tracks on their own, but come off nonsensical when mashed all together as they are here. Context: an important factor that I'm either completely missing, or Hurry Up And Relax lacks regardless.

The Sabres Of Paradise - Haunted Dancehall

Warp Records: 1994

I didn't have the greatest introduction to The Sabres Of Paradise, which may seem strange considering it was their agreed-upon classic Smokebelch II (Beatless Mix) that was my introduction. Appearing as it did in that Techno Nights – Ambient Dawn compilation though, it sounded so out of place and strange, especially on the supposed 'techno' CD. Even as time went on and I understood the significance of the tracks selected for that collection, Smokebelch II still never clicked with me. I assumed it would remain one of those tracks that made perfect sense if you had “been there” when it was rinsed out at all those infamous British raves during a misty sunrise in farmer's fields, but not walking home in the grey rain of the Canadian west coast.

Still, that didn't stop me from being intrigued by their sophomore effort Haunted Dancehall, if nothing else than for Jack Moss' review of it on TranceCritic. I mean, just the concept alone is catnip, the idea of crafting a soundtrack to a raver noir novel that didn't actually exist. Or maybe Andrew Weatherall had the story in mind all along, but lacked the confidence in his written prose to do it justice, settling on liner note 'excerpts' instead. Hey, I can dig that. Some folks feel they're at their creative best in specific lanes, and Weatherall clearly knows his lane's in the DJing domain. Still, his production ain't much of a slouch either.

Though let's not forget the other players involved with this Sabres Of Paradise project, including members of Brit-tronica outfit The Aloof in Jagz Kooner and Gary Burns. Throw in a Portishead remix on Planet D and a proper dancehall-dub contribution from Steve Gilderon Wilmot, and you've one remarkably diverse album in Haunted Dancehall. You wouldn't expect anything less from an early Warp Records record though, would you?

In fact, I'm not sure folks really knew what to make of it back when, what with no clear-cut singles springing from the album. The Sabres basically had to self-release the funky blaxploitation breaks of Theme as an EP, while dubby groover Wilmot did some solo business as well. No Smokebelches though – not even a Beatless Mix. I wager that Chapel Street Market 9am comes close though, capturing a similar 'morning after daze' vibe.

And gosh, the rest? Whatever that ultra-metallic funky rhythm is in Bubble And Slide. The rolling jazz-dub of Duke Of Earlsfield. Tow Truck screaming for a British crime-caper. The effortless cinematic IDM funk of Ballad Nicky McGuire (seriously, d'at rhythm!). While not quite as leftfield as stars of Artificial Intelligence went, the sound-craft on Haunted Dancehall easily puts it on par with The Black Dogs and Autechres of the era. The only reason it doesn't get brought up in similar discussion is either The Sabres' earlier discography of straight-forward rave records, or their audacity in tying all their tunes into some sort of narrative. Fools, we can't have folks actually understanding these tracks!

Skare - Grader

Reverse Alignment: 2015

Yet another indulgence of mine in breaking the chains of digital purchases. Not a huge one, mind, and looking back now, it seems odd that I'd do so with an item out on Reverse Alignment from an act I knew nothing about. Even the cover art, while still invoking that frigid-blue alpine clime' I'm strangely drawn towards, isn't that terribly unique among such things. Maybe just in the context of Reverse Alignment releases, hence it leaping out at me when browsing for more things from SiJ and b°tong? Certainly more than the one with the ruins in a mouldy green, or the one with an obscured dark symbol, or the one with the vampiress in the the red dress, or the one with... y'know, I haven't a clue what's going on with Stratvm Terror's This Is My Own Hell. Something un-right, that's for sure.

Skare is a pairing of Mathias Josefson and Per Åhlund, who've done various works while living around the Stockholm region. Mr. Josefson appears the busier of the two, a discography stretching back to the turn of the millennium, even releasing a few solo items on Reverse Alignment as Moljebka Pvlse (plus other labels like Cold Meat Industry, Greytone, Isoramra, Gears Of Sand, and AudioTONG ...hehe, go on, say that one out loud, I know you can't resist). Some time during the late '00s, the two crossed paths and released a collaborative album as Skare on Glacial Movements Records. Huh, that's an interesting name, I wonder what they have? Ooh, I see there's Rapoon, BVDub, Stormloop... oh my, a CD bundle deal on their Bandcamp too? *sigh* Another one for the bookmark folder.

Grader isn't so much a follow-up to the 2009 album Solstice City, but a gathering of live performances done before the release of their debut. Um, just two of them. Look, Solstice City only had three tracks on it, so it's not like they had a wide catalogue to pull from. And that's beside the point, as the two compositions here are original pieces, bumping the entire Skare discography to five tracks. That's at least one more than a fly-by-night, anonymous synthwave alias!

-5° is a fairly empty track, but that's kinda' the point. Muted clicks, distant drones, and what sounds like someone scraping metal across a violin string about make up the bulk of it's first half. Then things go real deep into the minimalist drone, discordant timbre, barren field recordings, and sparse piano tones, eventually layering to an atonal crescendo. I imagine this is the dread mountain climbers feel when they see an incoming squall barrelling down on their former tranquil setting. -30°, meanwhile, comes off as though we're surveying the aftermath, haunting drones painting a setting of everything turned to a ghostly frozen waste, the screams of the dead ensconced within icy prisons. Man, mountain climbing's some scary shit. Like, I already get nasty vertigo in open heights, but when the weather is just as deadly as the gravity, well...

Wanderwelle - Gathering Of The Ancient Spirits

Silent Season: 2018

The release of Wanderwelle's debut album Lost In The Sea Of Trees was something of a turning point for Silent Season. While not the first foray into vinyl for the label, it was the first time the format was the lone hard-copy option for a long-player, skipping out on a CD version entirely (erm, and hence why I skipped on it as well ...if I must, I can wait forever on snagging a digital copy). More prominently though, it was the first time Silent Season went with something other than a picturesque photo of local scenery for cover art, instead offering an image out of a children's fairy-tale book. As the chaps behind Wanderwelle claimed the music was inspired by the pagan tribes of ancient Europe, I suppose slapping the usual misty mountains or Pacific rainforest fauna overtop wouldn't do the concept justice. (oh, and the album was wonderful; will definitely spring for a digital copy, eventually)

A year later, and the Dutch duo have come forth with their second album, Gathering Of The Ancient Spirits. Sweet, more European paganism? Nah, guy, misters Bartels and van Dulm opting for something a little more tribal here. Or tropical. French Polynesian, if we must be specific, which at least keeps with the 'Silent Season represents music inspired by the Pacific Ocean' thing. Just, y'know, the literal opposite corner from their usual haunt of the planet's largest body of water. And even then, it's not so much being inspired by Tahiti, but by the “ultrasavage” artwork of French artist Eugène Henri Paul Gauguin, who's own paintings were more an idealized depiction of the region and cultures residing there. I feel like I'm falling into some deep inception levels of inspiration here.

This tribal-tropical-Polynesian motif has generated one of Silent Season's more unique offerings. For sure such ideas have been explored before, though typically in the context of rainforests (equatorial or taigan). To say nothing of how often we hear coastal ambient dub and aqua techno from the label (new genre alerts? Oh God, no!). Gathering Of The Ancient Spirits combines these ideas into something quite soft and haunting, tapping into that same well-spring of primitive vibes that reminds me of TUU. Just in a dub techno-y sort of way.

That said, I honestly don't have much to detail on a track by track basis. Absolutely some compositions have things that prominently leap out – d'at bassline in The Seed Of The Areoi! Different forms of percussion are featured in various tracks, while the ample use of field recordings remain diverse enough such that I never feel like I'm hearing the same croaking crickets, twittering tucans, or bubbly brooks. Still, the general tone blends together into a singular overpowering mood. It all feels like I'm lazing about a tiki lounge at some resort surrounded by palm trees, but being encroached upon by the recesses of a passing culture, long since eradicated save some weathered artifacts. There's mischievous spirits on them islands, I reckon.

Utada Hikaru - Deep River

Eastworld: 2002

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

Upon receiving this album, I couldn't help but do a double-take. Was I certain this was a j-pop album? It looks nothing like the preconceived cliches of the genre my Western eyes have been inundated with. In fact, aside from the artist name and kanji on the back, I'd have easily thought it an American R&B release, not that dissimilar to a traditional Mariah Carey or Beyoncé cover. Throwing it on for a listen, the American influences are even more prevalent – were it not for the different language, this wouldn't have been out of place in any Western R&B chart. And with American artists cribbing from 'ethnic' cultures as it was (s'up, bhangra), turnabout is fair play. Did make me wonder if Utada Hikaru might have had any success over here if she tried a crossover album.

Then I did the post-listen research and discovered, shit, she don't need success over here in the slightest. For Utada Hikaru is huge in Japan. Like, Mariah and Beyoncé huge! Like, owner of some of the country's top selling albums ever, absolutely trouncing her nearest chart competitors. Her first album First Love crushed it at 7.6 million copies sold there – by comparison, Michael Jackson's Thriller, the agreed upon most successful global record ever, sold only 2.8 million in Japan.

Yet, despite her monumental success in her homeland, she's nary a presence over here, a lone soundtrack appearance on the Jackie Chan/Chris Tucker movie Rush Hour 2 her closest brush with success in America. There's also frequent contributions to the Kingdom Hearts games (including the closing song 光 from here), but that's a comparatively niche audience. Yes, I know, entirely different cultures and all, but again, the music she's making here isn't that different compared to American R&B, her cadence easily on par with the divas of the U.S. Just use the ol' Shakira Strategy: record an English version, get a major label backing it (EMI handled distribution in other South Asian markets at the time, though she's since signed with Sony, so maybe a re-issue?), and see what may come.

I'm sorry I'm dwelling on this so much, but it honestly and truly boggles my mind that someone could be so successful in one country, and not here. It's not even like her music is too culturally dense to work elsewhere. It'd be like if Shania Twain or Celine Dion never broke out of Canada because they name-drop Montreal and maple trees (true, not so evocative as Tokyo and sakura trees).

Also, I honestly don't have that much to say about Deep River. As mentioned, this is an R&B-styled record, a genre I only have passing interest in, and where vocal presentation is first and foremost. Ms. Utada definitely has the pipes, such that I do hang on her words even if I don't know what they specifically mean. Translations reveal they're mostly about relationships and empowerment – standard R&B tropes – but that only takes me so far.

DJ 3000 - "Diligence" Mix

Motech: 2009

This is the bonus disc included with DJ 3000's Galactic Caravan album, which I reviewed nine years ago, and also did an Update Review six years ago. Why, then, did I not mention it in either of those write-ups? Complete and utter mental burn-out in the case of the former, that album the last I wrote for TranceCritic before essentially hanging it for good (I got better). As for the latter case, I didn't have an actual hard copy of Galactic Caravan at the time, so never knew of the bonus CD's existence. Check that: Lord Discogs did tell me there was one, but the not-so-proper MP3 copy I'd gotten for review way back when didn't include it, thus I was in no position to discuss something not in my possession. Which, erm, could have been said for a lot of those MP3 rips I acquired for review in the TranceCritic days, but like Hell I could have afforded them all. Had to cut costs somehow.

However, upon indulging myself on a Motech Bandcamp bulk deal, DJ 3000's Galactic Caravan was included in the package. Hey, cool, I can finally have a real copy of the album for my CD shelves (as, um, I should have way back when). Do I really need to do another review/update of it though? No, no I don't, but there's that bonus CD I could wax a few hundred words over. Look at all those additional artists I can talk up: Underground Resistance, Nomadico, Subotika, DJ P-Ben, DJ Compufunk, DJ Dex, DJ Bone. Huh, weird. Usually whenever I see that many “DJ”s in a tracklist, it from a bargain bin knock-off compilation, with names changed from original artists, or one dude running under a zillion aliases. Total coincidence here, I'm sure.

Anyhow, opening track Orbit from DJ Compufunk is definitely some vintage Detroit future-funk. The mix into Los Hermanos' Dazed And Deceived wasn't the smoothest though, its thumping tribal rhythms clashing out of key with Orbit. And oh dear, why is DJ 3000 riding this mix so long? And by the time Dazed And Deceived has settled into its own groove, we're into another rough transition in P-Ben's Believer. Some dope Detroit tech-house tuneage from there, but dear Lord, are these mixes ever rough. What is this, some freebie mix that's only meant as a promotional item and not intended for critical analysis? Oh, it is. Guess that means I'm going about this totally wrong, aren't I?

Yeah, I ain't 'reviewing' this as a DJ set anymore. I mean, it'd have been dope if this was a real-proper commercial set or something, but it's quite clear that's not the point, Diligence little more than a fun bonus, like mixtapes of old, handed out at underground shows. I honestly found it a better listen the less I paid attention to it, generally humming in the background while doing other stuff, critical switch flipped off. Stupid Ableton era's ruined the 'rough mixtape' mystique, hasn't it?