A Guy Called Gerald's Essence

On that black futurism tip, one of the most consistently futurism and utopism obsessed genres has been so-called "intelligent" drum and bass (hitting a full tilt with 4 Hero's Two Pages, which features a friggin' outer-space manifesto). The genre's got an unhealthy obsession with all things outer-space, often in the most new age-y of sentiments. If it wasn't for the dance element of it, this would be music to hold crystals to, and if it wasn't for the frenetic beat, it would be all to easy to dismiss.

And so it's the same with A Guy Called Gerald's Essence. AGCG, who was really better known for acid house, came out with this drum and bass album after five years of working on it. The album opens with the spoken word track "the Universe," which features sentiments as "We would find that the body is made up of a massive resonating particles and is in itself a universe." That prepares one for the rest of the preponderent nonsense that fills out the rest of the lyrics on Essence - instead of the political subtext that might underlie Sun Ra's Saturn mysticism, Essence becomes more like a sub-par episode of Babylon 5.

But there's the saving grace: Louise Rhode (of Lamb)'s performance on "Humanity." In contrast to the naturalist sentiment of the rest of the album,the song's a wonderfully humanist moment (the title becomes obvious), where Rhodes sings of self-doubt and confusion, only to reassure herself that "it's just my humanity getting the better of me." Rhodes has just enough flaws in her voice to give the song great credit, but enough strength in her voice to make the song affirming.

That's a constant on Essence: as cheesy the album's lyrical content might be, AGCG's gone to great lengths at composing pieces that frame its excellent vocalists (including the unlikely return of Lady Miss Kier of Dee-Lite fame). There's the aforementioned Rhodes track, and vocalist Wendy Page does a stellar job throughout most of the rest of the album. The only real stinker is AGCG's brother, David Simpson, who's got a good technical voice, but lacks in the emoting.

Tony Allen's Black Voices

On the heels of that Antibalas review, here's another Afrobeat album. Tony Allen was Fela Kuti's drummer in Africa 70, making the man the most important Afrobeat drummer EVER, and was to Fela what Clyde "Funky Drummer" Stubblefield was to James Brown. Allen's been releasing his own solo material since leaving Fela's fold, disappeared for about a decade in the 80s, and resurfacing in the late 90s with Black Voices.

Black Voices really isn't an album in itself. It's comprised of only four original compositions, with remixes of each by Doctor L filling out the rest of the hour. Allen explores the outer realms of Afrobeat and tries to update the sound with dub inflections and electronic elements, to varying degrees of success.

The mixture of dub and afrobeat sounds good on paper but really works out as an oil/water mixture - afrobeat's much to energetic to be able to absorb the lackadaisical dub. What results, then, is a spaced-out version of Afrobeat that can't muster enough energy, which is disappointing, seeing as how Afrobeat's manic energy is really all that gets it through its typical 8 to 9 minute song lengths (I think Roy Ayers and Fela Kuti's "2000 Black" clocked in at 20 minutes).

It's the remixes, then, that saves Allen. The standout is the Psychejuju mix of "Ariya" takes the boring original, amps up the drums, throws in your typical Afrobeat chants, and keeps it entertaining throughout. Without such touches, there's just not enough elsewhere to keep one's attention. It was a noble attempt, and still more interesting than Antibalas, but Black Voices is an average product from a former master.

Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso UFO's Electric Heavy Land

Now, I love Japanese psychedelic avant noise-rock as much as the next guy (read: not very much), but let me sum up the Acid Mothers' Electric Heavy Land for you:

SkronkskronknoisenoisenoiseAAAHHHskronknoisenoisefeedbackskronkAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHskronkskronknoisenoisefeedbackfeedbackfeedbackfeedbackfeedbackfeedbackAAAAAHHHAAHAHAHAHfeedbackfeedbacknoisenoisenoisenoiseriffriffriffriffnoisenoisenoisenoiseskronkskronkAAAHHHHfeedbackfeedbackfeedbackfeedback

Electric Heavy Land is a hard nut to listen to, and puts the old stamina to the test. I put it on and had to leave the room at least twice. It's like listening to 70's prog rock fronted by Yoko(which wouldn't technically be a bad thing), filtered through Doppler effect ad infinitum and processed through a tin can. It's extremely excrutiating, and I've only ever managed to listen to the whole thing through once (for this review, in fact).

I'm not opposed to Japanese noise-rock: the Boredoms got really Kraut-rock interesting with Super AE, and I'm at least respectful of Ghost. But apart from Acid Mothers' superficial hilarity (the group is really a "soul collective" which has been mistaken for a religious cult at times, and their website is pretty hee-larious shit too)(I'm especially curious as to who "Father Moo" is), this stuff just ain't for the masses, and while that in itself is a fine thing, this stuff just ain't for the rest of us, either.

Juan Atkins' Wax Trax! Mastermix Vol. 1

Few DJ mix cds are interesting, but Juan Atkins' first mix CD is for two reasons.

First, Wax Trax! marks Atkins' first mix CD in his 20-plus year career. Atkins is largely credited for being the forbearer of techno (yep - he's the one to blame/credit, depending on your view of the genre), having been in the band Cybotron, releasing amongst the first techno records (alongside Derrick May) under the guise Model 500, and starting the first Detroit techno label, Metroplex Records (which released the first Derrick May material). The setlist chosen by Atkins largely reflects this fact, and provides an overview of the genre through the 80s and 90s, siding with the more robotic, metallic choices than the more jazzy choices that fellow Detroit DJ Carl Craig might have chosen.

Second, and this is straight out of the comprehensive liner notes written by the Wire's Mike Shallcross, the origins of techno had a "political subtext": "On one level black music futurism describes a desire to enter a utopia where discrimination no longer exists." While this view might be reading more into the stuff than is actually there, Shallcross does make good by pointing out Atkins - and techno's - early preponderence with science fiction, futurism and utopism, making the music as much a descendant of Sun Ra as it is from Giorgio Moroder...well, at least thematically.

The initial space-age sounds of early Detroit techno (Atkins' own Model 500 hit is entitled "No UFOs") is a good mark of African American communities at a crossroads, where one segment of Afrika Bambaataa fans went with NYC and hip hop, and the other segment went with Berlin and techno. Techno might not have amassed into the cultural force that hip hop has, but it - and electronic music in general - has made large impact. Because of this disparity in effect, though, it's sometimes hard to remember that both forms have been around for about the same time.

Outside of its historic context, Atkins' Wax Trax! probably isn't very useful for anyone disinterested in the music, and probably isn't very useful for anyone passionate about it either. The selection is particularly heartless and cold (though sexy in places), and Atkins' own mixing is often inaccurate (this results in what might sound like purposeful polyrhythms, but it could easily be mistaken for not getting the next record on beat). Wax Trax! is great as artifact, but it's unsuccessful as much more.

Archers of Loaf's All the Nation's Airports

Let the mid-90's review continue: the Archers of Loaf provided necessary roughness to the early to mid-90's "college rock" genre, giving it a little more straightforwardness than Pavement, a little more professionalism than Guided By Voices, and a little more accessibility than Sonic Youth. The band was pretty ubiquitous on college radio for a good chunk of that decade, only to be replaced by Eric Bachman's Crooked Fingers project after the Archers called it quits.

All that said, I fully anticipated being bored by All the Nation's Airports, seeing as how alot of the music of that period hasn't stood against time. I expected no more than a nostalgic ride, and the Clutterer is all about dismantling nostalgia. It was to a great degree of surprise, then, that I actually still liked the album, would probably listen to it again, but (who am I kidding?) shelve it in the long run.

The Archers of Loaf do a worthy service to post-punk, angular music, years before people attached the prefix "emo" to it and ruined college rock forever. All the Nation's Airport flows between that and Harvest period Neil Young piano songs, transitioning without being jarring, conceptual without being pretentious, earnest without being naive. This is meat and potatoes stuff, devoid of dressing, and as such All the Nation's Airports is still appreciable and listenable.

It's a true surprise that I still enjoy the stuff, but an even bigger surprise that others have enjoyed it to the point of not letting go. As good as All the Nation's Airports may be, it's still dated material, and there's no sense of repeating it. Why hundreds of band still latch onto this sound ten years after the fact, then, is a mystery to me.

At17's Kiss Kiss Kiss

It's no big secret: the music of my people sucks. Cantopop, Mandarinpop, Whatever - it's a bland, overproduced mess, with about as much flavour as tofu, sterile and overly mechanical, with melodrama a replacement for passion...and that's on it's better days.

That said, a small current of alternative music has finally found its place in Hong Kong. Though Taiwan has had a long history of left-of-centre bands, Hong Kong had been mired for nearly a decade with the "Song Gods" (Leon Lai, Andy Lau, and Aaron Kwok), only to segue into faux pop-rock-rap shite, all comprised of actors turned singers turned actors. It's only been about a few years that other music has bubbled from the undercurrent, and only the recent past that it's been any good.

At17 are an odd duo: in a market more used to Debbie Gibson wannabes (Faye Wong being one of few exceptions), here you have HK's basic answer to Tegan and Sara (for better or worse). The two mainly do their acoustic pop thing, but with the right production, Kiss Kiss Kiss sees flourishes of Stereolab, shoegazing Brit-pop, speakeasy jazz, and better Kylie. The two have obvious talent, and it's a minor miracle that they haven't been overproduced and subjected to the cookiecutters.

Kiss Kiss Kiss is also a small breath of relief from HK's so-called indie pop, which has been run rampant by the lo-fi twee-pop of artists like Pancakes, whose earnestness quickly gets overtaken by shoddiness. Instead, At17 find a good balance between glossiness and quirkiness, and though there's the odd clunker, Kiss Kiss Kiss is generally light and fun fare.

Aerial M's As Performed By Aerial M

The David Pajo timeline is impossible to completely summarize, sprawling and branched as it is, but it's all rooted in the similar (except for maybe Zwan), and Aerial M provides a good summary.

Recorded in 97, Aerial M was Pajo's solo project after leaving Tortoise and before redubbing himself as Papa M. The seven song album is more reminiscent of the latter material, comprised of pastoral acoustic pieces, more akin to Bundy K Brown's Pullman (though less bluegrass-y) than with the tension (or noise) of Slint. It's still got the elements of all of these Pajo projects (all of it being keenly familiar of Slint in some sort of fashion), albeit a more sleepy version.

With that said, As Performed By... was shortlived, and for good reason. It's not quite as interesting as the former Pajo stuff (Slint and Millions Now Living... being pretty hard to beat), and it's not quite as immediate (that term being used loosely) as the later Papa M stuff. Aerial M hints at all of these other moments, provides a brief summary of them, but ultimately only points to them as being more worthy of attention, with the sole exception being "Always Farewell," which stands amongst Pajo's best.

Keren Ann's Not Going Anywhere

France has got a monopoly on fragile female voices and acoustic guitars, and Keren Ann's English debut, Not Going Anywhere adds to that pot.

Though Ann's voice shows a bit more strength than she'll let on, she's still of the Jane Birken whisper camp. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, but there's not a lot to differentiate here, and Ann isn't quite charismatic enough to set herself apart from the rest. Her voice does hint at some range, but Ann chooses to underplay it, and instead of having the fragile-yet-powerful voice that Francoise Hardy perfected, she comes across as limp as Julie Doiron.

What saves Not Going Anywhere is typical of alot of similar albums: the production. Ann partners again with producer Benjamin Biolay, who packs the album with strings, horns, and choirs. It's all pastiche, but it's done effectively, and while it's not as picture-perfect as Coralie Clement's Salle des Pas Pardus, it's charming nonetheless. It makes the album pleasant, but Not Going Anywhere remains very aptly titled.

Air Miami's Me, Me, Me

In the mid-90s, Teen Beat seemed like a little brother to the bigger folks of Sub Pop and Matador, the type of little brother that's both oblivious as to his dorkiness and cocky about it at the same time. Indie rock crowds being what they are, Teen Beat grew larger in popularity as mob mentality took over (conformity apparently being of much larger appeal than thought), regardless of the vast amouts of shite they released. A large proponent of that, I suppose, was Mark Robinson.

Air Miami came on the heels of Robinson and Bridget Cross' other hip band, Unrest (Unrest drummer Phil Krauth going on to release inconsistent solo material...much like *spoiler!* Mark Robinson and Bridget Cross...). The differences are near-negligable, but they're there. Robinson seemed obsessed with 80's new wave and all that dance punk stuff 20 years before the most recent revival, and thus Air Miami's got a slight bit more of that sort of flair; Cross continued with her sad sack material to even it out. The results are hit and miss: at times it's infectious ("I Hate Milk," "World Cup Fever," and "You Sweet Little Heartbreaker"), at other times it's limp and boring ("Dolphin Expressway," "Seabird").

Robinson's still got a penchant for that in-your-face irony, the sort of which most folk hopefully outgrew in their teens. It's a little bit charming at first, not having listened to Me, Me, Me in seven or eight years. That charm doesn't last past the first listen, and becomes a numbing annoyance after the second.

The Association's Greatest Hits

Growing up listening to lite AM/FM, I've always been a secret fan of all that old AM gold (the Fifth Dimension, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Free Design, etc., though I become a bit more cautious with the Mamas and the Papas), but it wasn't until I picked up the Association's Greatest Hits a few years back that I appreciated them for much more than kitsch.

Though I can still listen to "Cherish" without cringing as much as some people (particularly when the Annie Potts prom flashback scene from Pretty in Pink comes to mind), the rest of Greatest Hits is what draws me. The Association does a good balancing act between psychedelic folk and post-Pet Sounds Beach Boys. With that, this is a heavy, heavy statement: the Association almost outdoes the Beach Boys, particularly on tracks like "Like Always" and the whacked out Gregorian intro on "Requiem for the Masses." The latter track almost approximates the mad genius of Brian Wilson stepping into the Smile era, with Wilson eeking out a tiny edge in that his arrangements are more fucked up (indeed, the Association released a song called "Broccoli" on their self-titled album in '69, analogous (ie just as ridiculous) to Brian Wilson's "Vegetables" on Smile).

There's also the quasi-garage tracks too, where the Association "rock out" as best they can (read: not much). "Along Comes Mary" is always fun to listen to, reminiscent of a lighter Left Banke. Extrapolate this even a little further and it isn't hard to hear precursors to Love and the Arthur Lee stuff.

Greatest Hits is a good start to the Association...one that I never really followed up on. As with many groups (for instance, aforementioned Love), the Association's never really seen a North American re-release, and Greatest Hits remains the sole CD offering that one could find easily. It heightens their mystery to me, and I'm almost reluctant to seek more of it out, lest I find myself back in kitsch territory. For now, the Association's fantastic in smaller doses.