If the organ is most often associated with Gothic environs and baroque Christian arrangements, Touch has done a superb job at getting to the, erm, spirit of the instrument. Losing gratuitous ornamentation, the likes of Philip Jeck, Fennesz (with Sparklehorses’s Scott Minor), Oren Ambarchi and Biosphere alternate between towering, overblown drones and celestial glissandos. And yet, despite losing such overt religious trappings, the instrument still can’t help but suggest the all-powerful. Spire’s well named, then.
Various Artists Five Years Of Poker Flat Recordings
If the outdated opposition between dancefloor rapture and labcoat intellectualism still exists among clubgoers and bedroom critics, Poker Flat has gleefully ignored such a polarity. As Martini Bros, Phonogenic, Hakan Lidbo and owner Steve Bug testify here, the label has perfected a brand of minimal tech-house that’s not afraid to work up a crafty sweat, one that could obliterate house music segregation in one fell swoop. About time.
Death Comet Crew This Is Rip-Hop
As the quest to re-release material from obscure ’80s bands continues apace, the trendsetting Troubleman label graces referential musicians with something they can use-the entire Death Comet Crew discography. This four-piece-which included the outergalactic freeestyle rapping talents of Rammellzee and production genius of Stuart Argabright (of Ike Yard and “The Dominatrix Sleeps Tonight” fame)-provided the template for the thousands of cut ‘n’ paste provocateurs and DIY electro-punks flourishing today. This is Rip-Hop is a jarring, at times apocalyptic, trip through an urban wasteland populated by decapitated breakdance beats, squalling guitars, blood-splattered sound effects and heaps of downtown attitude. Hottt-with three Ts.
Visionaries Pangaea
Rap crew the Visionaries-which consists of LMNO, Key Kool, 2Mex, Zen, Dannu and DJ Rhettmatic-remind me a lot of early incarnations of the Black Eyed Peas and Jurassic 5. They’re from LA, they’re multiracial, and they lay down uplifting, at times didactic lyrics over swingy, quite classic-sounding hip-hop beats-here provided by guest producers like Beat Junkie J-Rocc to Dilated Peoples’ Evidence and Shape Shifters’ Life Rexall. Suffice to say, if you like your breaks funk-derived and your rhymes conscious, you’ll probably be feeling this. I, for one, am gonna go pop on that 50 Cent.
Felix Da Housecat Devin Dazzle and the Neon Fever
Felix Da Housecat has made many fine house tracks in his time, but his new album under the Devin Dazzle alias-with its soulless synths, gay club-reject vocals, and sewn-together melodies-personifies everything that’s old and dead about electro-pop. Chief offenders “Everyone is Someone in L.A.” and “Short Skirts” (with lyrics like “sneaking in peep shows/stealing poppers and dildos”) are the soundtrack to someone so high on their own fame that they’ve lost even the will to create a clever hook. Comfortably numb and uncomfortably dumb.
Decomposure Taking Things Apart
No doubt influenced by the Thomas Kàner and Matthew Herbert school of sampling, every track on this album is made out of noises from a single object: “Scrabble,” for example, or “Matches” or “Toy DJ Playset.” Of course, there’s also the obligatory George Bush speech-raping number (“Speech”) and the self-referential and rather mundane “Sound Card Noise.” On the plus side, Taking Things Apart forces one to listen to quotidian objects in a new way. On the downside, there are few songs here, so unless you’re a found-sound aficionado, you might find yourself wondering exactly why you’re listening to noise.
Various Artists Bionic Breaks: Compiled By Boris Dlugosch
If Bionic Breaks was a live set, it might seem a bit cold and clinical. But German DJ Boris Dlugosch didn’t use a traditional turntable/mixer set-up to compile these two discs-he employed Ableton Live software. The result is a crucial history lesson that occasionally becomes a dynamic dancefloor bomb. From the goth bump ‘n’ grind of Human League’s “Being Boiled” to the robotic freestyle of Freez’s “Pop Goes My Love” to the insistent pulse of Hashim’s classic “Al-Naafiysh,” Bionic Breaks counts among its 41 tracks some of the most essential proto-techno masterpieces ever. These get sutured together with modern day anthems like Metro Area’s “Miura” and the Chicken Lips remix of Playgroup’s “Make It Happen,” and pretty soon you’ve ingested enough grinding synthetic funk to keep you pop-locking through the next century.
Criterion & Doily Criterion & Doily
Broklyn Beats performed a helluva feat by entering a crowded underground and maintaining a recognizable sound. Said sound typically plays out as jungle and hip-hop for brain-surgery-altered guinea pigs, as label owners Doily and Criterion demonstrate on this CD, which compiles their past EPs. Doily fancies tossing drum machines into trashcans that then get rolled down steep hills. Her ramshackle, no-fi production is a relief in our age of antiseptic digitalia. Criterion mainly focuses on hung-over loops, picking at them like fresh scabs. In “Sole Controller,” he disembodies a porno-funk guitar riff that then jabbers itself to oblivion. And somewhere deep in this dancefloor-clearing mire, a savage intelligence lurks.
Datach’I Mmale and Ffemale
Joseph Fraioli (Datach’i) was rarely mentioned in past zine articles about “digital-punk.” Strange, since his ’99 debut [Rec + Play] embodied that tag with flesh and blood. Kid606 and half of the Tigerbeat6 posse often seem to be chasing after that record’s trash-compacted IDM beats and Kool-Aid-drunk Nintendo melodies. With MMale and FFemale, Fraioli has matured, deftly composing analog drones and phantasmagoric choirs that haunt a Martian cathedral. The trademark Datach’i beats that chomp your woofers and tweeters are also in effect. Too bad this entire album could be mistaken for an Aphex Twin remix of Squarepusher’s Music is Rotten One Note.
Dub Syndicate No Bed of Roses
Dub Syndicate mastermind Style Scott’s solid percussion and Adrian Sherwood’s seamless mixology keeps roots dub alive and grounded, not flying off to melt in the sun. No Bed of Roses‘s songs all maintain a steady cadence with bright keyboards, locked rhythms, and a slew of crooners who remind you that Babylon is more naked than ever with a Caesar in the White House. Given that protest songs dwell here, the instrumentation is a little too sun-kissed to articulate the rage. The exception is “Adam & Eve,” in which a shaman connects empire-lust with original sin through a napalm-smoked haze of echoes.
