Olivier Orand - Human

Ultimae Records/Sidereal: 2008/2019

As I'm perusing the Sidereal shop looking to update my Solar Fields re-issues, I notice this remarkably striking bit of cover art. Holy hell, but what is this? Some sort of synthwave noir outing? Seems like a strange addition to a label primarily focused on Magnus' back-catalogue. I certainly have never heard of this Olivier Orand before, so maybe they've begun branching out a little. Sure, I'll give this a whirl.

When I fire up Discogs to Add [this CD] To [my] Collection, I'm struck by a sudden sense of recollection. One of these tracks is called Radio Bombay? I swear I've heard that before! Maybe a previous compilation? Let me Search Mr. Orand's Discography within Discogs and ...oh! This album titled Human is in fact a re-issue of Human, previously released on Ultimae Records by Hol Baumann. Wait, Hol is Olivier? Baumann is Orand? Finkle is Einhorn? What's going on?

So turns out, 'Hol Baumann' was an alias (nickname?) for Olivier, which he promptly dumped sometime in the mid-'10s. I can't find any information for the change. Some sort of finagling over legal matters? A feeling that his time with Ultimae was well in his past, so may as well carry on with his real name? Whatever the case, Mr. Baumann are no more, and Mr. Orand now... is.

This is also fortuitous in my case, as Human is one of the few Ultimae records I never picked up. It wasn't for a lack of opportunity, mind you, seeing it available in the label's shop long after much of their back-catalogue went out of print. For whatever reason though, I was never compelled to nab it while I had the chance, and I assume that was the case with a lot of Ultimae followers. Which had to suck just a little for one of the label's longest contributors to their series of compilations.

Anyhow, this Human is slightly different from the older Human, in that four tracks have been added (Varanasi, Handwritten Notes, Scala, Final), and one removed (Bénarès (Vârânaçî Edit)). Also, the final sequence has been rejiggered, five minutes of silence following A Forgotten Ritual jettisoned in favour of two added tracks.

Now that I have taken in Human proper-like, I cannot deny feeling a little disappointed in not giving it a chance sooner. While maybe not as God-tier as some of Ultimae's all-stars, Olivier's offering is a darn fine outing of clicky-glitchy world beat psy-dub. Even if the beatcraft and sample splicing does create something of a plastic sheen to the production, it's never too over-indulgent in effects wankery to be distracting. And when Mr. Orand goes for an opulent climax, it's easily on par with the best of what Ultimae offered at the time. The only real drawback to Human is the lack of anything immediately earwormy, perhaps doing more than what the brain can firmly latch onto long-term. Still, a nifty ride of various sounds and sonic soup while it plays.

Morphology - Horta Proxima

FireScope: 2020

Not to say Morphology isn't a suitable fit for FireScope, but man, did their debut on the label ever come off as an odd man out. I'm not even talking musically, their melodic songcraft nicely rubbing shoulders on the print that B12 built. Still, the duo's electro purism couldn't help but clash a little with the more IDM-leaning techno of the surrounding roster. Beyond that though, I'm talking about the utterly drab, beige cover-art of Traveller. FireScope has, if nothing else, offered quite the selection of fantastical sci-fi aesthetics, eye grabbing artwork that one can easily get lost in as the retro-future rhythms emanate from nearby speakers. All except for Morphology's album, nothing more than a barren, empty crawlspace in an unremarkable space-station. It's certainly a choice, and may even suite the electro vibe Matti and Michael cultivate, but does little in standing out on a label like FireScope.

So I'm glad that, if nothing else, we've got something a little more colourful for Morphology's follow-up on FireScope, Horta Proxima. At first glance, it's still a stark, almost barren bit of scenery, but at least we have some nice contrast in the darks and oranges. Looking deeper though, and you discover there's all sorts of odd, mysterious artifacts in this landscape. Is that some sort of ruin? A living creature? A bio-mechanical monstrosity? So many possibilities, though I'm certain ninety percent of you have already thought of that one episode of classic Star Trek.

In any event, Horta Proxima is indeed the latest album from Morphology, which means is yet another of those quirky items on FireScope where an LP is split between two CDs of EP length. Yeah, yeah, it's meant to replicate the vinyl experience of having an album on two separate discs, which was a bit novel when Morphology broke that barrier with Traveller. Now that Steven Rutter, John Shima, and Derek Carr have also gotten in on that however, it doesn't feel quite so novel. Whatever, you do you, FireScope.

(*DE-DAE-DE DUN-DUUNN* BREAKING NEWS!!
As I was writing this, FireScope announced a Mophology box-set ...kinda'. Two separate albums titled Twelve, out on four CDs or records, with cover-art that's... very techno traditionalist. So much for falling lock-step with rest of the label)

Whichever disc of Horta Proxima you throw on first, they play out in similar fashion. The first couple tracks feature the most 'FireScope'-y of the tracks, closer to the domain of melodic IDM and sci-fi techno, followed by an assault of bumpin' electro, closing off with something on the downbeat. Or the whole thing plays out in two halves, if you go the digital route. When Morphology let the melodies carry, they fit right at home with FireScope, but whenever the robots start gettin' down, they remain odd cybermen out. Throughout it all though, their mint, angular beatcraft and thick bass tones resolutely keep the propah' electro fires burning bright. Preferably glimmering across chrome-painted star cruisers.

Various - Heights

Archives: 2020

Finally, I get to talk about Archives! Not that this Spanish ambient label is some utterly unknown entity. Nay, they've been operation for over half a decade now, steadily releasing albums at a solid clip of several items per year, with such names like Purl, Halftribe, and Gallery Six making appearances. Throw in gorgeous naturalistic cover art with each release, and you'd think Archives would be on the tips of more tongues within the ambient-o-sphere.

Honestly though, if it wasn't for the Purl connection, I probably would have completely passed Archives by. As I've said in the past, when there's so much ambient music being released by the hour, one tends to focus their interests on specific artists and labels after a while, trusted go-tos and the like. Occasionally a Discoggian dive or a spiffy write-up in a 'zine might lure you in for a closer look, but in my experience, such times are rare. We are very much creatures of habit. Maybe, if I'd happened upon the cover art at least, I'd have given Archives a shot (they are very lovely landscapes), but I haven't seen much of their output in the usual blogs and store-fronts, to say nothing of being almost a non-factor in getting attention of the Almighty Algorithm. Nope, it was strictly the fact Purl released an album on there in 2020 that I ever learned of the label at all.

With that in mind, you may expect Archives to mostly be on that slightly dubby, layered drone type of ambient business, rather like Silent Season on their beatless days. Well, I don't know about that with any authoritative measure, as I've only gotten four CDs from the label thus far. I suppose it's handy that we're starting this mini-plunge with a compilation then, a tasty appetizer of various artists on offer before taking in a proper meal.

And hoo boy, am I ever diving into the ambientia obscura here. Andrew Tasselmyer. Shuta Yasukochi. Pepo Galán. Sphereuleus. Snufmumriko. Not to say these are complete unknowns abroad – some have even made appearances on Kompakt. Out of the eleven tracks featured on Heights though, I only recognize two off-hand: Hilyard, due to her collaboration with ProtoU on Cryo Chamber; and Warmth, because he runs Archives, and thus has a ton of material on the label.

Tasselmyer's Columns opens things up, and it's a pure drone-tone piece, eventually fading off into white noise and wind. Ellis' Canyons edges closer to modern classical, gentle piano piercing dense layers of calming, dubby drone. Heights mostly flits between these styles of ambient throughout, pieces ambling along and generally maintaining a tranquil mood. While every artist does bring something unique, you probably won't notice much variation unless you're paying close attention.

And that's fine, Archives' brand of ambient clearly intent on existing as nothing more than a cleanser for your headspace. As such, you'd justly believe it'd remain overlooked and obscure, but it's just so darn good at it!

Yet Another EMC Update: The Updatening (Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Update Harder)

So I'm postponing the Ace Tracks Playlist another month. No major, life-shattering reason for this, some unforeseen, cataclysmic event in The Life Of Me shaking down. Between the last two months, I do have enough material for a respectable playlist, but my future schedule does make this the practical option.

For you see, I plan on taking July off. I'll be away from home for a significant chunk of the month, and likely won't have much time to knock out any reviews. Yes, not even on the road, as my poor old laptop is truly showing its age now. Besides, it's been four years since I last took a full month off, and could probably use a little mental recharge. Yeah, there were some fallow periods (oh God, were there ever some fallow periods in 2020!), but I still managed to squirt out a few reviews per month even during those challenging lean times. I can probably use some extended time not worrying about this blog. And since it's doubtful I'll do enough in June to justify its own playlist, it makes better sense combining these three months into one before going on my month-long break.

Wow, this has to be the most update-iest update I've ever updated.

Rudy Adrian - The Healing Lake

White Cloud: 2000

It's wonderful that so many CDs are available on the Discogs marketplace, but shipping costs have grown exceedingly brutal in recent years. It's gotten to the point where even if you want only one item from a seller, you kinda' feel obligated getting more just to make the postal fees worth the purchase. Which is fine and dandy if said seller has a robust selection to choose from, but that's not always the case. Yes, in one of the quirkier aspects of music collecting, not everyone's tastes line up one-to-one. In fact, there may be only a singular artist where common ground is met, interests radically diverging from that point on.

So it seemed with this particular seller. I wanted a Neotantra CD off him, but browsing the rest of his catalogue, didn't see much else that triggered my curiosity. Some other ambient releases from the likes of Oöphoi, Popol Vuh, and Ishq. Prog rock options like King Crimson, Mastadon, and, uh, Van Der Graaf Generator. Some other stuff with titles like At The Speed Of Light Or Day, Double Nickels On The Dime, and Evolution Of JazzRaptor. Again, potentially all stuff I may vibe on, but I wasn't feeling particularly adventurous on this purchase. I still had to select something so those dastardly shipping fees were less painful though, so I rounded out the order with my usual fall-back when I'm indecisive: go with the cover art with the most blue on it. And this, my friends, was the bluest bit of cover-art by far.

Sorry for blasting through half a review going on about this, but unfortunately, I don't have much to say about Rudy Adrian. The New Zealander seems like a nice enough chap, and has maintained a tidy career these past two decades. His brand of ambient music tends to drift closer to the realms of New Age meditation music though, which unfortunately gets lost among the many, many artists who compose the stuff, often sitting lonesomely in shops selling crystals and herbal remedies to modern mystics. To say nothing of not being considered 'serious music approved by music critics', beyond the occasional thrown bone of a “New Age music is not all bad, actually” article. Existing for half a century, and still can't get any respect.

And while I'd love for The Healing Lake to have somehow been an undiscovered gem transcending its genre, no, it's about what you'd expect of this stuff. Released earlier in Rudy's career, it has all the hallmarks of ambient music perfectly suited for deep meditation or massage therapy. There is some progression as pieces play out, but can just as easily fade into the background of whatever activity you're doing as it plays. Steady synth tones and drones mostly dominate, with sporadic sprinklings of woodwinds and spritely electronics, invoking moods mysterious and calming. It's the perfect soundtrack for losing oneself in the stillness of remote naturalistic settings, preferably some lost mountain lake as the sun rises over the surrounding canopy.

Solar Fields - Green

Droneform Records/Sidereal: 2014/2018

Wait a tik'...! Solar Fields has a box-set too? Solar Fields has a box-set too! And not just any ol' 'album gathering' box-set, but one that consolidates many a wayward track and tune floating about the compilation and internet ether. Red / Green / Blue actually started out as individual releases on Magnus' own Droneform Records, strictly digital options for those who hadn't been too diligent in obtaining every single item released under the Solar Fields banner. Or heck, even for those who were, but now offering a tidy collection in three releases (because there was just that many out there!). A few years later, Solar Fields starts re-issuing hard-copy releases of his back-catalogue, eventually leading to these former digital-only compilations getting a box-set treatment as well. [enter outdated “and still no Earthshine re-issue” quip here]

As for what differentiates Red from Green from Blue, I really couldn't say. I breezed through them all, and didn't notice much thematic difference between them. Nor are they chronologically sorted, each track seemingly plucked from whatever compilation from whatever year it may have been released. About the only common thing among them is how Magnus sequenced each, with a gradual escalation in tempo, such that they play out in similar fashion. The actual track selection seems to be nothing more involved than being in service of this, but I guess that's to be expected. It's not like Solar Fields has that radical a disparity in his musical aesthetic, especially among tracks mostly intended for compilation contributions.

By alphabetical decree, I'm covering Green first, and of the ten tracks included, I already have two: Spiritual Ocean and Levitate, appearing on Fahrenheit Projects. A few remixed album tracks also appear, including Insum from Leaving Home, Magic Eye from Blue Moon Station and... Sol from Movements? Ah, sweet, Sol is, like, one of my favouritest Solar Fields tracks ever! I bet this remix will be totally dope as well. *listens* Hmm, okay, maybe not after all. Seems less grand and... singular? Something meant to stand on its own rather than add to an album experience, I guess.

So the rest. Opener Level Out is rather chipper and plucky with plenty of spacious woodwinds and chant going with its bouncy electronics. Rain Geometry was a H.U.V.A. Network track, though as this is Magnus' own rub, does the usual Solar Fields slow build with plenty of atmospherics churning up the ethnic sounds on display. Respiratory Rate is an almost experiential piece by Solar Fields standards, the sounds of steady breathing forming a rudder while a mid-tempo bounce breaks out. Finally, The Sight Is White and Third Time (T Version) are noteable for the types of compilations they appeared on: the former on a label called Candyflip Records (cute), the latter on a rather dodgy 2002 psy-trance CD called First Impression. If AP Records was the sort of label Magnus had to deal with in the beginning, I'm sure he couldn't wait to become part of the Ultimae family.

Silent Universe - Gravity

Ignis Fatum: 2015

Another promising space-themed side-project that seems to have stalled. Why do I keep stumbling into these? Okay, my sample-size is small, but I'm sure if I kept digging deeper and deeper into all these niche scenes featuring artists with multiple aliases, I'd come across more. I just don't want to keep getting my hopes up, is all. The gap between Distant System releases was excruciating enough, and I needn't put myself through more of that on the regular. Oh, but they tempts us, they do...

I should be thankful The Infinity Coordinates isn't the lone Silent Universe album out there. Yeah, it's been half a decade since Pavel Malyshkin debuted the project on Cryo Chamber, but he's had plenty 'nuff on his plate with continual explorations of all things cold and remote as Ugasanie. Like, imagine if you were a hardcore fan of his other side-project, Polterngeist. That one didn't even get the Cryo bump, mostly relegated to self-releases, and remaining in mothballs for as long as Silent Universe has. Polterngeist did have one item out on Ignis Fatum, the minuscule Belarus net-label that housed the first two Silent Universe albums, so there's that at least.

Was this project started to support Ignis Fatum? Like, I can see Pavel wanting to help the label, though many dark ambient producers from eastern Europe did contribute to their debut compilation Inception (Dronny Darko, Aseptic Void, Symbiosis, to name just a few I'm familiar with via Cryo Chamber). There was even a couple Ugasanie tracks on Ignis Fatum collections, but for whatever reason, Pavel felt this was an opportunity to explore other sounds away from his most successful alias. Fair enough. When your most prominent work gets tied to a certain style, it's harder to creatively branch out. Here's a fresh name for a fresh label, and see what may come of those stellar winds.

Gravity was the second of the two Silent Universe releases on Ignis Fatum (so sayeth Discoggian release dates), and kinda' feels like the more standard of them. Yep, it's another dark space ambient LP themed around singularities, black holes, and all the cataclysmic events that occur at the bleeding edge of observable physics. Plus a pair of tracks titled Dark Energy and Dark Matter, in case you're feeling saucy about exotic astrophysics. Musically, such as it is, we're in Lustmordian drone territory, all ominous atonal moods and sounds. Subtle hints of melodic harmony occasionally emerges in some of the seven tracks (Dark Energy, Event Horizon, Among The Dead Stars), while others seek to simply crush your sense of self (Black Hole, Hubble Radius).

As mentioned, it's all familiar territory where Stygian cosmic drone is concerned. Even knowing how adept Pavel is at this style, I was quite surprised at how encompassing Gravity sounded on my headphones while dozing. Had to take them off at one point to make sure I wasn't hearing it from my regular speakers, as I'm sure drones that loud would wake the neighbours.

Lucette Bourdin - Glimpses, Vol. 1

Dark Duck Records/Fantasy Enhancing: 2017/2021

A couple Lucette albums were released after her passing, but so shortly after, they were likely already in her vaults (such as they were), just needing a little extra attention. This one though, came much later, half a decade later in fact. Was there some yet undiscovered trove of music from Ms. Bourdin out there, that took so long to be unearthed? Mm, not really, no, at least no more so than any of her works remained relatively obscure. Rather, this is a 'remix' album of Rising Fog, handled by Dark Duck Records regular (head honcho?) Stephen Philips. Fair enough, but seems a little odd to include it within a box-set of Lucette Bourdin's works. Was it included just to hit that magical twenty CDs cap? Guess it makes more sense than if they were to include the 2014 retrospective CD, Retrospective, in this Retrospective Box Set (2005-2017).

Still, if you didn't have your handy-dandy Discogs cheat sheet on hand (or are a hardcore Lucette Bourdin fan), you wouldn't know Glimpses, Vol. 1 was a remix album, at least not as presented here. Nothing on the CD's slip case mentions as such, no additional credit attributed to Mr. Philips, just the same track list as the Rising Fog CD. And yeah, if you listened to the whole box-set in one fell, chronological swoop, you may have noticed some similarities between the two, such that you'd make the assumed link without realizing the track lists were identical. Also, that'd be mighty impressive, making such a connection between CD6 and CD20, with that much droning ambient music in between!

Come to think of it, how does one remix droning ambient anyhow? No, I'm not talking about turning it into a trance track or a tech-house track or a darkcore nu-glitch complextrostep track. I mean, remixing ambient into ambient. Like, I know it's doable, otherwise I wouldn't have Glimpses, Vol. 1 in my hands, but it still strikes me as a dubious proposition. I've heard 'alternates' and 'versions' of ambient pieces, though usually composed by the same artist on their own work. Unless the internet has somehow pulled an unnecessarily strange hoax, I'm pretty certain Lucette Bourdin and Stephen Philips are different individuals.

It also means I had to interrupt my planned 'go into every CD in this box-set cold' for a basis of comparison between this and Rising Fog. Okay, that's not such a big deal. I'm honestly just kinda' dawdling at this point because there isn't much I have to say about Glimpses, Vol. 1. These tracks definitely are different compared to the originals, in that they feel more stretched, layered, and drone-tone as ambient music. The Rising Fog pieces were already rather mellow to begin with, but had some progression of melody among them. Stephen mostly strips that out, melody losing itself in dense layers of reverb and timbre. As ambient goes, it's all quite nice and relaxing, if a bit formless. The concept interests me more than the execution.

Parental Advisory - Ghetto Street Funk

MCA Records: 1993

The notion that Atlanta hip-hop didn't break out until OutKast and Goodie Mob dropped their debut albums is so ingrained in public discourse, folks don't realize that's not quite accurate. True, Southernplayisticadillacmuzik and Soul Food put the Georgian city on the map, even rescuing The South from general assumptions it was nothing but dirty bass music. There was an act that beat them to it though, dropping an album before those two LPs, also produced by Organized Noize, all part of the same Dungeon Family conglomerate. Yet I never see any namedrops for Parental Advisory (P.A.).

It's not like they were completely unknown, having some minor chart success at the turn of the century when southern hip-hop started its national ascent. For all intents, Mello, Big Reece, and K.P. should be on the tongues of far more people than 'those in the know'. Was the shadow cast by OutKast and Goodie Mob just too large to emerge from? Perhaps, but there may be another reason for P.A.'s Ghetto Street Funk going so overlooked when talking up seminal Atlanta rap albums: it doesn't really sound like a southern record.

Which is understandable, the 808-heavy, dirty south style the dominate sound around, and still frowned upon by the Very Important markets on the East and West coasts. If you wanted to come in with something more respectable in the early '90s, you had to sound like those regions, and that's what Ghetto Street Funk does, Organized Noize coming in hard with the jazz sample-heavy, combative Eastcoast boom, almost any trace of their Georgian origin absent. As for the rappers, Big Reece sounds like a heavier, baritone Chuck D, while Mello comes off like an aggressive Slick Rick, and both bring plenty of energy to the beats, keeping you at least engaged with their flows, if not their lyrical content. (I don't think K.P. does much, if any rapping on this album, mostly sticking to DJ scratching and such – it was still an important component to early '90s hip-hop!)

Topic-wise, P.A. mostly stick to the usual gangsta rap tropes, going on about how hard they are, how hard the street life is, how hard they'll hit back at any other crews that try to step up (or something). It's hard denying a lot of this can come of cliche, and may have back when no one knew much of anything about Atlanta hip-hop. Like, I had no idea of their origin, just knowing them from their one single on the CB4 soundtrack. That it would take OutKast's more laid-back vibe (and Organized Noize stripping the aggro back for that duo) to truly establish a distinct southern style cannot be overstated.

Thus Ghetto Street Funk remains an underground gem, stuck at a crossroad of changing trends. I can't say it deserved more recognition for what it does, but it does it as well as any early gangsta rap album out of the east. Worth a listen, if you fancy the stuff.

The Bug - Fire

Ninja Tune: 2021

Not that The Bug has never maintained a particular vibe throughout his career, but man, do you ever gotta' be in A Mood to enjoy Fire. I'm not even sure if 'enjoyment' is capable here. For sure one could connect or 'get hype' to it, but the apocalyptic tone this album maintains is relentless, almost no hope of rescue in sight. Kevin Martin certainly is no stranger to painting portraits of urban decay, but always tempered with moments of revelation and salvation, an escape hatch available should you be fortunate enough to find it. Not so with Fire, and while I've indulged music of the utterly depressive kind (oh hi, dark ambient!), this seems like quite the extreme turn for The Bug. What could possibly have inspired Mr. Martin to craft such an album like this?

If the opening monologue from Roger Robinson is anything to go by, it was the pandemic. I don't know what Kevin Martin's thoughts about lockdowns and masking and vaccines and whatnot are, but regardless, during the period he made this album, he seemed to envision a near future where everything that could go wrong from this event does. And in a weird way, it's honestly already made Fire a bit dated. Yeah, things looked uncertain and bleak for a while there, but in just half a year after this album dropped, we were already doing are dogged best to get back to 'normal living'. Whether we were premature in doing so remains up for some debate, but there's little doubt the Worst Case Scenario portrayed in Fire has practically no chance of coming to pass. It's like an '80s Cold War movie predicting nuclear holocaust occurring during the '90s, but watching it in the 21st Century.

Speaking of, first proper track Pressure opens as though hearing the blasting klaxxon of the oncoming hellfire, frequent Bug collaborator Flowdan dropping his usual grime bars over distorted bass tones. And it's pretty much the same thing for the rest of the album. Yeah, there's plenty of other MCs on hand, all lending a variety of flows, though no Warrior Queen, sadly. I rather like Nazamba's utterly ragged and raw tone in War, perfectly befitting such a grimy, marching track. Manga Saint Hilare in Bang and High Rise also stood out to me, for no other reason than his higher pitch made for a prominent contrast to The Bug's omnipresent low-ends. Oh, and Daddy Freddy, just because his pure dancehall Ganja Baby seems like such a leftfield peppy tune among all the surrounding despair.

Despair, yeah, that's certainly a vibe on Fire. While The Bug's usual aggression is present, it's also often muffled, as though the righteous call-to-arms is forever stomped out and quashed. Not to mention that ever-present wailing wind, as though blowing dirt and grit through the hollowed remains of urban centres. As I said, certainly an album for when you're in a particular mood, and you don't want to get out of either.