Orbital - s/t [aka The Brown Album, or Orbital 2 in the US] (1993)

Dug out this album thanks to Acid Brass from last week - went on a wee nostalgia trip of late 80s/90s dancey electronica.  An hour of classic Kraftwerkian techno bookended by a couple of jokey nods to Steve Reich's early tape work - seems ideal for posting here.

By 1992, Orbital's Hartnoll brothers had broken on the dance scene with a home cassette-deck recording (the immortal Chime) and released a solid first album.  The second was produced with a new level of confidence and skill, from the introductory tape-phase looping of Worf from Star Trek TNG (introduced on their 'Green' debut) to the more fully-realised album coherence and buildup of each track's elements.

There's enough acid squelch on the likes of Remind and Lush 3-2 to link to Orbital's roots,  but throughout the Brown Album lots of other details reward deep listening.  The sitar colourings on Planet Of The Shapes, which also has a sample from Withnail & I synced in perfect rhythm; on Walk Now, the only time I've ever enjoyed listening to a didgeridoo.... it's an album offering great variety.  My absolute favourite thing here is the 20 minute stretch that takes in the gradually-mutating Lush 3-1/3-2 and melodic highlight Impact (The Earth Is Burning), but the lovely Halcyon + On + On isn't far behind.  A hugely recommended album to anyone wanting to hear a classic of 90s electronic music that continues to age well.

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See also at SGTG: Underworld - Everything, Everything / Polygon Window - Surfing On Sine Waves

Williams Fairey Brass Band - Acid Brass (1997)

Picked up a classic charity shop find the other week.  And yep, it's exactly what the cover says - acid house anthems performed by a brass band.  This was the brainchild of London artist Jeremy Deller, who intended the project not to be a comic novelty, but a serious endeavour in drawing commonalities in British working class culture.  Deller went as far as including an elaborate flowchart in the CD booklet, with 'acid house' at one side and 'brass bands' at the other; the various links sometimes interesting, sometimes perhaps a bit spurious in driving his point home.  But enough sociocultural high-concept - as always, I'm more interested in the music.

Deller eventually found a brass band that were game for the challenge in Stockport's Williams Fairey Brass Band, formed in 1937 (I'm guessing this isn't the original lineup on Acid Brass).  Arranging Deller's chosen tracks was composer/arranger Rodney Newton, who also gets an interesting liner note about the challenges of the material, for instance, getting a group of brass band blokes to chant 'voodoo ray' in "low, guttural voices".  A live performance in Liverpool followed, seemingly well received by an audience of all ages.  A limited edition recording of the concert, also titled Acid Brass, was followed by this studio album.

So what does it sound like?  Well, to be honest, mostly like a cod-Mission Impossible/Austin Powers film score (What Time Is Love made me laugh out loud), but no less entertaining for that.  Newton does capture well the main themes and the tension-and-release of the originals, and purely from a melodic standpoint, A Guy Called Gerald's Voodoo Ray and 808 State's Pacific 202 sound lovely, proving their durability as highly original pieces of dance music.  The success of the arrangements can vary - I do like the tuned percussion (glock? marimba?) on those two tracks, and on Nitro Deluxe's Let's Get Brutal.  Derrick May's Strings Of Life doesn't translate quite as well, with its immortal string stabs rather weakly rendered - if anything, a testament to what a stunning work of genius the original was and still is.  Regardless, Acid Brass is a fun listen, especially in the summer sunshine.

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Unit Moebius - s/t (1992)

Time to up the tempo again.  Nothing fancy, just a 41-minute slab of brain frying Dutch acid/minimal techno, recorded on a rickety cassette deck and self-funded by squat parties.  A label writeup describes "twelve hours of non-stop comatose acid-house music, no lights but heavy strobes and a very freaked out audience (partially due to the strong and pure LSD sold by one of the Unit Moebius members) of punks, squatters, junkies and patients from two nearby psychiatric institutes".  Quite an image to have in your mind when listening to 17 minutes of 'Panta Rhei' drilling its way into your skull.

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