On this record, former member of Cabaret Voltaire Richard Kirk spreads his wings and gives us this dub-soaked set. Not a mere homage, however, this is very modern music, albeit, at a pitch and a pace that will remind many listeners of the thunder that leaked from Tubby's during the '70s. The groove here, though, is gently complicated with sampled voices and sounds that never would have made it onto a reggae record. This is perfect soundtrack music for movies full of men with mustaches and briefcases striding purposefully, men turning to watch silver cars pass in the reflection of windows. Men who clearly know too much. This is a welcome sound, one that has strong roots, but one that always moves ahead. Strongly recommended.
Similar to his first for Warp, Kirk uses an incredibly wide variety of sources for this album of gorgeous ambient ethno-funk, including electro, bleep, techno and Eastern melodies. In fact, on one track, "Monochrome Dream," Kirk combines jazz, dub, spacey ambient, and Latin rhythms, all at the same time (!). "Lost Souls on Funk" and "So Digital" are excellent as well, slightly more downtempo than the latest Cabaret Voltaire material and deftly produced like few others could do. Despite the disparity of genres, The Number of Magic holds together perfectly.
Like their debut album, Thievery Corporation's second, The Mirror Conspiracy, is a pleasant album of sublime mid-tempo trip-hop, reminiscent of easy listening groove music, and continually referencing the breezier, atmospheric side of Brazilian, Jamaican, French, and Indian forms. The nocturnal dub-poetry of "Treasures" sets a tone for the bruising basslines and echoey keys throughout the album, and "Lebanese Blonde" is another early highlight, with the graceful vocalese of Pam Bricker framing live sitar by Rob Myers and a Jamaican-style horn section. Brazil represents with a triple-shot of "Air Batucada," "So Com Voce" (with vocals from Bebel Gilberto), and "Samba Tranquille." French chanteuse Lou Lou adds a bit of downtempo continental flair on "Le Monde" and "Shadows of Ourselves," and Thievery Corporation even samples Ella Fitzgerald on the ambient-jungle closer "Tomorrow." As on their first LP, Garza and Hilton occasionally appear satisfied to just push a few grooves and reference their favorite styles of music over the top -- at the expense of any new ideas -- but The Mirror Conspiracy is excellently produced and almost as stylish as the duo's swinging suits onthe cover.
The eclecticism and the organic warmth of Fila Brazillia's electronica continue to amaze on Power Clown, one of their finest efforts . Laid-back jazz-funk grooves straight out of the '70s are the foundation of the record, but hints of Stevie Wonder-esque soul, hip-hop, bossa nova, ambient, spacey techno, house, minimalist electro, big-beat, and trip-hop all pop up here and there, as do touches of ethnic percussion, acoustic guitar, saxophone solos, new age-y synth flourishes, and the occasional odd vocal sample or sound effect. What really pushes Power Clown over the top, though, is that the group maintains their focus throughout, never meandering and changing things up often enough to keep the grooves from becoming repetitive. One of the finest and most overlooked electronic-dance releases Of 1998.
Any interest at all in Fiction Factory's Throw the Warped Wheel Out will most likely originate from the album's opening track, "(Feels Like) Heaven." With its church bell synths and Kevin Patterson's brooding vocals, "(Feels Like) Heaven" is an ‘80s new wave classic. Often mistaken for a love song, "(Feels Like) Heaven" is about the exhilaration following the disintegration of a painful, loveless relationship. The lyrics seethe with corrosive angst: "Twist the bones until they snap/ I scream but no one knows." Like Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart," "(Feels Like) Heaven" deceptively buries its anguish beneath toe-tapping keyboards. However, one song cannot carry the weight of an entire LP; fortunately, Fiction Factory were talented enough to craft worthy successors. The light funk of "Heart & Mind" is derivative yet catchy, recalling Heaven 17. The heartbreaking "Panic," with its somber refrain of "Laughing, crying," should have been used in one of John Hughes' teen films; one can easily imagine Molly Ringwald wiping tears from her eyes after a bad prom date while Patterson sings, "I'm sad from within." Throw the Warped Wheel Out is a vastly underrated album, disappointing only record buyers who want every track to sound like "(Feels Like) Heaven." The slow groove of "The Hanging Gardens" or the brisk, soulful melodies of "All or Nothing" may not have the instant appeal of "(Feels Like) Heaven", but repeated spins uncover the finger-snapping hooks within. Those who feel that Fiction Factory's artistry peaked with "(Feels Like) Heaven" should immediately listen to the mercilessly hummable "The First Step." Resistance is futile.
The glimmering, jangly pop of the Lotus Eaters evokes images of lonely summer afternoons. Peter Coyle's dulcet vocals ache with profound yearning; Morrissey may have won the mope rock mantle in the '80s, but if the Lotus Eaters had become as successful as the Smiths, Coyle would've robbed him of the Sad Sack crown. No Sense of Sin, the Lotus Eaters' 1984 debut album, is a gorgeously crafted collection of melancholic guitar pop. "Love Still Flows" and "The First Picture of You" caress the ears with haunting piano and twinkling guitars; both songs unreel with a cinematic feel, the music and lyrics drawing sentimental memories from the listener's imagination. On the powerful "It Hurts," Jeremy Kelly's guitar sounds like a heart shrieking in pain as Coyle wallows in his grief. The starry-eyed keyboards and sing-along chorus of "German Girl" and spellbinding violin of "Set Me Apart" deepen the Lotus Eaters' appeal; they further explore Coyle's hankering for affection while lifting the spirits with sharp hooks. [No Sense of Sin was reissued by BMG Japan in 1998, and that version easily tops the original with ten bonus tracks, including the driving "You Don't Need Someone New" and the delicate "Two Virgins Tender."
The Dream Academy was the self-titled debut release for the art-school trio led by lead singer/guitarist Nick Laird-Clowes. Produced by David Gilmour and Laird-Clowes, the group was rounded out by vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Kate St. John and keyboard player Gilbert Gabriel, and they struck the first time out with the album's standout track, "Life in a Northern Town," which became a Top Ten smash in the spring of 1986. The Dream Academy used lush string arrangements and choir-like background vocals to create a sumptuous backdrop for their paisley-tinged pop. It works to best effect on "Life in a Northern Town," a slice of watercolored nostalgia with its memorable chant-like hook. Other highlights include the sax-driven "The Edge of Forever," the gentle dream recollection of "In Places on the Run," and "This World," with its somber, stark portrayal of the downtrodden. Laird-Clowes' vocals are thin, a shortcoming masked by the soft focus of the material, and the album falters a bit during the second half; however, the best material on this record leaves you longing for more.
One of the most sublimely spiritual albums ever made, Simon Toulson-Clarke and Julian Close's masterpiece of new wave, pop and world music (long before it was trendy) has become somewhat of a cult sensation with its re-release (complete with bonus tracks) in 2008. Though known primarily for the hits, "Lean on Me" and "For America," there is not a bad track among this lot. It is a hypnotically beautiful record, as endlessly listenable as it is perfectly performed. Legendary producers David Motion and Phill Brown lend a hand to fine-tuning this classic album's sheen. This is that rare album wherein the listener is left humming every single song. A perfect record -- and that is, indeed, an accomplishment
A Tune a Day, the band's second release, doesn't change that perception, but instead improves upon the debut in both song writing and structure, effectively saving them from a sophomore slump. The Supernaturals returned the second time around with an even stronger set of tunes to turn out a disc with no weak tracks, and, remarkably, they crafted some of the best British releases of 1998. Opening with the throbbing "You Take Yourself Too Seriously," the band make a very serious statement right off; the Supernaturals brand of pop music isn't meant to be taken seriously. It's fun, inventive, playful pop music with clever and unforgettable lyrics, but that doesn't mean that it isn't altogether irresistible and unforgettable. The range of tempos and textures makes A Tune a Day rival their debut, and this album contains several sing-along anthems for multiple occasions; there's a summertime anthem ("I Wasn't Built to Get Up"), a breakup anthem ("Sheffield Song"), and a falling-in-love anthem ("Let Me Know"), as well as the over-wrought, gut-wrenching album closer, the beautiful power ballad, "Everest." They even dip slightly into glam rock with "It Doesn't Matter Anymore" and "Still Got That Feeling," or Sgt. Pepper-era Beatles on "Submarine Song." While the Supernaturals are hardly the most important or most popular band in the britpop movement (they're far from either), A Tune a Day is a marvelous pastiche of songs that proves that they're one of the best, and one of the most overlooked.
