A foursome known as Radium88 brings a lilting sense of light to the surface with long sweeping, angelic waves of harmony, though maybe a bit new age on “The Loneliness of the Long Distant Space Traveller.” These sounds continue as grown up versions of Tangerine Dream when Red Green Blue’s (Mat Jarvis, formerly known as Gas) “High Skies” graces our bass modules with a bit of a funky percussive flare. Still, this is not the ambience I have grown accustomed to on this beloved EM:T label, it is lighter, and fluffier.
Things get a bit bluesey on the soul-inspired “Alabama” – a track with voice samplings ala Moby stimulate the funky urban in all of us. This is the return of the triumphant Beatsystem in soaring ambient fairlight sounds forming the background of this experiment. This is one of those eight-minute tracks that could really run for hours. It would make a great soundtrack for a late night subway ride. Brannan Lane’s “Desert Sunrise” layers tracks, bubbly beats and percussion, through the filter of a wave machine and experimental curves. This is mysterious and organic with hesitant grooves and childlike wonder. “Fireworks” fly in what seems like something that could be a long lost track by perhaps My Bloody Valentine. Birdcalls and channel shifts play tricks on the headphoned ear in this delight by International Peoples Gang. Paced chanting forms the initial stabilizer for Chushen & Cugin’s “The Sultra” which you know is going to be good in less than 30 seconds. With the passing dalliances pop ears have had with ancient choir songs, this doesn’t bastardize the genre, but uses the male vocal to great effect, with a prolonged resonance that matches the rhythm without dueling for dominance.
Andy Hughes (The Orb) is the surprise guest here on “I Can’t Hear You” where gamelan is only slightly hinted at in this lullaby for moderns. In what can be described as a very early 80s sounding percussive track that dances around an old voice with some faintly Asian themes, this could never have been made in the 80s. This is an obvious distortion on something that may have been original, or at least seemed that way at one time. With the repeated line “ain’t no way of knowing you can hear me” the postmodern lips are sealed once and for all. Richie Warburton presents something akin to a tennis match, with Who-like electronics and jet airliners, oh my! What is this mix saying? While staring at the ceiling fan, then the modem, my answer is etched in my surroundings. Tilt! About half way through this jam coalesces and jams. The beats take over, not obtrusively, just enough to get your groove on to a great build-up, and no mimic-gimmick, it plays almost like a live track, changing chords, and pattern just enough to keep it from being overly produced sounding. For the first time on this disc, Mia’s “Savannah” is more like the EM:T we once knew and loved. Space flight and barren lows with thick and quick basslines and overdubbed samples, which last all of 2 minutes before the abyss has us patently waiting.
This smorgasbord is nothing compared to the previous EM:T collection – but new ideas, and introductions to some new sound craftspeople may lead the way to future greatness that could only mirror its own universe.
