So after the promise of Vol.8, what meaning is to be gleaned from the latest installments? My initial reaction to Vol.9 was "oh, here we go again - more relentless loopy 4/4 Roland acid-fests, yaawwn...", but give it a few listens and there's actually some nice glacial arpeggios and queer melodic phrases in there which, provided you close your eyes and pretend it's still 1993, have a certain naive charm. Sort of reminds me of the kind of thing I used to do with a Roland Juno 60, triggering the arpeggiator from a TR-707 rimshot and building a track around randomly generated notes. It's alright, I suppose, although the fact that I can even begin to compare it to some of my own work is one of the major hang-ups I have with much of this series - it seems attainable. Love the label design though - another one of those coy close-ups on one of James' little analogue gadgets. Looks like some sort of sequencer, but nothing I recognise. One of his homemade creations or modifications? Hmmmm...
Vol.11 is something else entirely though. No, it's not particularly groundbreaking or original either, but "W32.Mydoom.AU@mm", which takes up the whole of side 1, has that sense of composition and structure which immediately raises the imperative levels (and my heart-rate) featuring subtly modulated lead melody in conjunction with some phat, pulsating synth bass, developing into something that packs a pretty solid emotional punch. "VBS.Redlof.B" features a similarly luscious bassline (reminds me of early Jean Michelle Jarre) , an irresistible (non-Roland) stomping disco rhythm and effervescent, arpeggiated melodic lines that make me feel glad to be alive. But then, having taken me to analogue-euphoria, James decides to leave the party and skulk about in some dusty, yellowing, forgotten time-zone for the final two tracks. It feels like 1972, when the Radiophonic people were creating those strangely depressing little detuned analogue melodies as incidental music for kids programmes and documentaries about nuclear power. Despite the fact that they don't really do anything, I find these pieces utterly compelling as they draw me into their bleak, dejected little world of malfunctioning transistors, peeling wood veneer and mildew-encrusted surfaces. As the funkless metronome and tuneless oscillator emissions of the final (unlisted) track fade into oblivion, it feels like a sense of closure, a retreat back into his private little world - "I don't wanna play anymore" - which would've made the perfect end to the Analord series. But apparently there's a Vol.12 to come, so perhaps we're in for the big surprise then?Oh, and in response to Serpico009's comment that I should reappraise Vol.5, I will say that yes, I do quite like "Cilonen", but the a-side still sounds a bit pointless and the fact that there's only two tracks adds to my feeling that this is still the weakest volume in the series. Sorry...
Buy Analord09 and Analord11 at Warpmart.
