Tag Archives: Aphex Twin

2018 Recap

2018: It was a bad year for Planet Earth, but a pretty good year for new music. Once again a lot of favorites were active this year, including some long-awaited and truly unexpected comebacks. As usual I didn’t get around to everything I wanted to, and I haven’t really been listening to a lot of *new* music, as in artists who have debuted sometime this decade. I guess that’s the price you pay for being somewhat of an obsessive; over time these lists get larger and larger, in part because I’m always gonna be interested in new material by some band I used to dig or am still on the fence about. But 2018 did seem to be unusually busy, especially in its first half. I’ve heard enough for a cursory glance back, as well as a holding spot for the stuff to be listened to later. Which I’ve come to realize is a lot.  This time I’m just gonna do it in alphabetical order, with links to the albums I’ve actually reviewed on here, plus some scattered thoughts.  Italicized albums were among my favorites.
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Aphex Twin – Drukqs (2001)

drukqsIn last week’s post, I was comparing 90’s IDM to 70’s prog, and claimed that Aphex’s Drukqs was analogous to ELP’s Love Beach. I thought a lot about that comparison and decided to re-listen to both albums for posterity. Granted I think the book is pretty much closed on Love Beach, but Drukqs is one of those albums that I feel is due for a critical re-evaluation. Released in 2001, which was probably the last great year for IDM, or at least the year where IDM started to assimilate itself elsewhere. Radiohead released a pair of albums (Kid A and Amnesiac) that were explicitly IDM-influenced, both of which wound up being surprisingly successful, and you know there were a lot of writer/producers (like say, Trent Reznor) who were paying close attention. 2001 was the year of Confield, which has got to hold the record for “most times spun in an attempt to enjoy”; where Radiohead was starting to make these sounds palatable, Autechre was doubling down on abstraction, resulting in an album so dry and technical that fans openly wondered if there was really anything to it. For further evidence that the tides were turning, compare Confield‘s reputation as a difficult masterpiece to Draft 7.30‘s reputation as an infuriating wind-up, even though they were both very similar. Then you’ve got Squarepusher, who’d previously gained favor as the guy expertly melding jazz with drum and bass, doing things like Go Plastic, which was stuffed with full-on noise freakouts and had little in the way of actual tunes.

Aphex Twin of course was the rock dude’s electronica artist-of-choice, and it’s easy to see why. Even if you didn’t like the guy’s music, you had to admit that something incredible was going on there, and for once the idea that a guy on MTV was some kind of modern Mozart didn’t seem that far-fetched. More than that, I think people fell in love with the idea of Aphex Twin, the guy who recorded in a bank vault and owned a tank and handed in remixes without even hearing the original tracks. Here was a guy who was famous, but truly couldn’t give a toss about fame, and was more than willing to fabricate stories in interviews (or even better, send imposters to do them). You had “Come to Daddy”, a “parody” of industrial music that’s way more intense than anything The Prodigy or Nine Inch Nails ever did, and “Windowlicker”, an electrified, distorted take on R&B that’s downright brilliant (and disturbing, to boot). Both had videos directed by Chris Cunningham that were hilarious and horrifying, to the point where it’s tough to believe they were ever actually shown on TV.

So yeah, the stakes were high. Despite his stature growing in the latter half of 90’s, Aphex hadn’t released an actual album since 1996’s Richard D. James Album, (LIIIINK) and even that one was barely a half-hour long. The announcement of Drukqs was a big deal – his first proper album in five years, a double, no less. Problem is, it was not really what anyone expected; rather than the visceral freakout of Richard D. James Album or the big concept tunes that marked Come to Daddy and WindowlickerDrukqs was the kind of album that didn’t really make any kind of first impression. Like with The Orb’s Pomme Fritz, the backlash was immediate, and, similar to The Orb’s story that Pomme Fritz was made in a week, many took to James’ claim that Drukqs was not really intended for release, but rather a collection of tunes he left behind on an MP3 player on a plane that he might as well release himself before the pirates took to it. The subtext of course being that this isn’t a real follow-up to Richard D. James Album, but rather a bunch of tracks he had lying around, so no reason to take it seriously, right?

I guess that’s one way to rationalize it. Drukqs sounds like someone took pieces of three unfinished albums and threw them on shuffle; together with the lengthy and ridiculous tracklisting (half the track titles read like a cat walked across the keyboard), it makes for one real brick wall of an album. Sure, in 1994, he released Selected Ambient Works, Volume II, nearly an hour longer than this one, featuring an even more ridiculous tracklisting (25 of the 26 titles were photographs, and even then it wasn’t clear which one corresponded with which), but at least there you had some continuity; the music felt all of a piece somehow. For all we know (this still is Aphex Twin, after all) this is done on purpose, but Drukqs is a disjointed and often jarring listen; putting the album on shuffle (to my ears) produces pretty much the exact same experience as listening in the intended order.

In a high-level sense, Drukqs is half drum and bass and half piano pieces; the drum and bass tracks are lengthier and wild, while the piano bits are much more controlled and ornate. Often they are vignettes that don’t even hit the 2-minute mark. Some of this is done via prepared piano, similar to John Cage; others sound like James himself sitting down at the piano and just playing something (RDJ claims these tracks were sequenced with MIDI, which is…pretty damn impressive, actually). Interspersed with this are a few tunes that don’t fit in either box – “Gwarek2”, a sort of avant-garde piece with a lot of unsettling screaming, or “Gwely Mernans”, a would-be ambient piece with a massive rumbling backdrop. What you don’t hear is anything immediate – no clever genre excursions, no humorous bits (outside of a small part of “Cock/Ver10”), nothing catchy or even all that memorable.

I’ll be straight here – I think time has done this album well. The first thing I notice nowadays is just how well-produced everything is. Aphex’s work always sounded good but a lot of his best-known stuff had some kind of production quirk – the tape hiss on Selected Ambient Works 85-92, the radical uses of volume on I Care Because You Do, or the pummeling treble on the Richard D. James AlbumDrukqs is the sort of album you can really crank. The quiet tunes are full of all sorts of neat details; from the lush church organ of “Btoum-Roumada” to the metal rods banging together on prepared piano pieces like “Hy A Scullyas Lyf Adhagrow” or “Prep Gwarlek 3b”, or even the muted keys of “Ruglen Holon” or “Kladfvgbung Micshk”. All this music sounds very much out of time, as though Aphex pulled it out of a 60-year old chamber. The drum and bass tracks are also tough to place in this regard; I don’t know if RDJ switched back to analog synthesizers, but there are a lot of sounds that date back to the Detroit days. The result is an album that feels timeless – where the drilling and snare rushes of the Richard D. James Album and Come to Daddy feel rooted in the late-90’s, Drukqs still sounds fresh. All the D&B pieces are thrilling; they’re so meticulously sequenced and stuffed with detail that you would have to slow them down to really comprehend what’s going on. One moment that stands out is on “Mt. Saint Michel + Saint Michel’s Mount”, about four minutes in, where a lengthy drum pattern comes in and switches up drumpacks every six seconds, venturing from deep bass pings to recognizable 808 sounds; it’s a lot of fun and one of those things that must’ve taken forever to get exactly right.

Anyway, pointing out individual tracks is kind of pointless here. It’s a difficult album to discuss, as not only is it so long, but the track titles are basically impossible to memorize, and there are not really any standout tracks – the one that always gets mentioned is the gorgeous “Avril 14th”, and I’d say the aforementioned “Mt. Saint Michel + Saint Michel’s Mount” is probably the best tune altogether. But really, the album just doesn’t have a lot of talking points, at least not in the sense that Aphex Twin’s stuff usually does. Most of his work (post-SAWII, at least) would have some aspect that tried to actively antagonize the listener; something like “Ventolin” may not be easy to listen to, but it sure was fun to talk about. Granted, in retrospect, it makes perfect sense; sure, “Windowlicker” was his most popular tune, but the other two tracks on the single – the complex math equation and “Nannou”, foreshadow like 90% of what you find here, and we should’ve all known that Aphex would not stay on the same path for long.

So, exactly how wrongheaded was the Love Beach comparison? Not only are they totally different in terms of quality, but in retrospect, IDM in 2001 was not really analogous to the corpse that was prog in 1978, as several notable IDM albums came out in ’01. A much better comparison is Tales From Topographic Oceans; both impenetrable double albums, both considered disappointing at their time, both released when the genre was at its tipping point (prog had a couple of good years left, but 1973 was its critical mass), but most importantly, both of them benefit from hindsight. When the prog backlash subsided, it seemed that Tales gained a reputation as being a hidden gem (though “hidden in plain sight” may be more accurate; Tales is one of Yes’s most infamous releases); it was just something you had to cycle through a few times before really understanding. The kick-ass riffs and jaw-dropping playing that was so apparent on Fragile and Close to the Edge was all still there, but you had to look for it. Drukqs is much the same; I think both albums could benefit from some editing, particularly Tales, which has always struck me as 55-60 minutes of ideas spread over 80 (ah, the classic “three good sides” argument, though it’s hard to apply that to an album with four songs). Similarly not every track on Drukqs feels necessary; Disc 1 is a little tigher than Disc 2, but as a whole it’s a surprisingly brisk 100 minutes, with plenty of short tracks and points of interest along the way. Even though I’ve been playing it all week long, it still feels like there’s plenty left to explore, and I find myself glad he didn’t continue in the direction of Come to Daddy, as classic as that EP is. Unpredictability is really one of his defining features; nobody would’ve guessed John Cage as a major inspiration for his “Windowlicker” follow-up. That’s one of the most intriguing things about Richard D. James; nobody really knows what he’s capable of.

Aphex Twin – Richard D. James Album (1996)

rdjalbumWith Aphex Twin recently announcing the release of a new album called Syro in October, I figured it would be a good time to reminisce about my first time listening to Aphex. It was 2004 and I had just started school at Green Bay, was reading a bunch of music forums and Web Reviewing Community sites on the daily, and thus was hammering Amazon to pick up a bunch of cheap CDs (and torrenting a few others). The Richard D. James Album was among them, something I don’t even remember ever downloading, but probably decided to toss on my state-of-the-art 40 gig iPod because hell, I’d heard the name a bunch of times and was curious, but clearly I wound up forgetting about it. One night I was listening on shuffle while studying (read: playing Wind Waker) and “To Cure a Weakling Child” came on. Perhaps I was undergoing a particularly lucid moment, but it scared the hell out of me. Like, I actually had to turn it off after a couple minutes as it was freaking me out so much. Up until then I thought Aphex Twin was another electronic dude in lines with the stuff I already loved – Underworld, Orbital, the Chemical Brothers, and so on.

Of course Richard D. James was nothing like any of those guys; there’s a singularity to his music that makes it defy classification. Similar to BT, he spends so much time fiddling around with his electronics and writing his own programs that it ensures his music doesn’t sound like anyone else’s. But Aphex works in the IDM genre, whose lack of a real rhythmic base allows all sorts of crazy things to happen. IDM must have really seemed like an exciting thing in the mid-90’s; much like progressive rock of the 70’s, there was a real sense of “anything can happen” among this music, as it was not bound by the confines of 4/4 or the hope of radio play as so much else seemed to be. With prog there was a sense that you were listening to uniquely talented musicians writing songs that only they themselves could play (see Yes or Gentle Giant); IDM on the other hand was about tunes that nobody could play, as electronics allowed these guys to program melodies and rhythms that were simply too fast and twisted for a flesh-and-blood musician. How exciting is that? It was if the entire realm of musical possibilities were unlocked…

Well, let’s back up a bit. What sounded like the future of sound in the 90’s started to feel awfully gimmicky a decade later. Prog suffered much the same fate; In the Court of the Crimson King was almost certainly the most exciting record of 1969 to imitate – by 1979 you would be crazy to venture anywhere near it. I suppose you could draw a similar line for IDM, with Aphex’s own drukqs functioning as the genre’s Love Beach, though I only mean this in the eyes of the public. The great thing about Aphex Twin throughout the 90’s was that he always brought you something new; both volumes of Selected Ambient Works were very different, and I Care Because You Do was something else entirely. These are all terrific releases but it was here that he really began to gain public notoriety; where SAWII was strange in subtle ways and ICBYD generated oddness in ways that nobody (to my knowledge) had really considered before, the Richard D. James Album was the first of his releases to be aggressively weird; there was nothing like “Rhubarb” or “Icct Hedral” to fit in with the Enos and the Phillip Glasses, no spots where you could say “if the beats weren’t so turbo-jammed, this may sound fairly normal”.

Thus I think it’s a little funny hearing this as your first IDM album. I still remember my first listen vividly; it felt like hitting your funnybone over and over again. I had a night class on “music composition and theory”; a gen ed that I (wrongly) assumed would be a breeze – I remember hearing this right before a class and thinking, “what would my professor think of Aphex Twin?”. I loved so much in music, but had yet to experience anything that I felt was truly revolutionary (and wouldn’t again until I discovered Cardiacs a couple years later). All this feels more than a little hyperbolic now; I bought the CD and kept in rotation for a while, but before this recent announcement, I never quite got the urge to hear it again, even as I was obsessing over other RDJ releases. Now that it’s September of 2014 and I’m playing Aphex Twin all over again, I realize with some clarity that I Care Before You Do is so much more complete, experimental, and enjoyable, and that in retrospect the Come to Daddy EP is probably a better release as a whole.

Still, it’s easy to see why the Richard D. James Album felt so damn important then. A lot of electronic music, particularly the stuff I enjoyed, seemed to hit a lot of the same criticisms – “it’s too repetitive”, “there’s no personality”, “everything is too long”, “anyone could do this”…all things that the Richard D. James Album is assuredly not. Clocking in at about 30 minutes, there’s so much densely packed into it that there’s simply no room for bits to repeat, particularly in the rhythms, which evolve and rotate alongside everything else. The drum programming is likely the first thing you’ll notice; often described as “drill n’ bass” for the inhuman, rapid-fire nature of many of the rhythm parts. My first impression was that much of this was random, composed without rhyme or reason, but the tunes are so memorable that there’s no way this could be the case (I reserve that judgment for some of the work of Squarepusher and Venetian Snares, however). Certainly the level of detail is so meticulous that not just “anyone could do this”. What stands out about so many of the sounds however is just how organic so much of it sounds – the music is distinctly inhuman, but there are a lot of real instruments in here, and several percussive noises that feel less like a drum machine and more like pencils banging on Coke cans or a tongue clicking off the roof of the mouth.

As for personality, well Richard had it in spades, and I believe the cover of the album was pretty much perfect; there is James, staring out with a grin that feels sinister and grossly inhuman (you wonder if it’s more a result of bizarre lighting or some sort of doctoring). It’s scary, but also somehow hilarious, as it is so unsubtle and out there. The music is much the same; on one hand it’s gross and alien, and the other it’s almost unspeakably beautiful. One thing James did that the other IDM guys didn’t (or couldn’t) do is full-on orchestration – you hear a lot of it in I Care Because You Do, and you hear it in many of Richard D. James Album‘s best moments. “4” and “Girl/Boy Song”, two of James’s best compositions period, are examples of this – “4” uses a gorgeous, single violin, which morphs into a wobbly synth line, all while a pounding snare drills over the top. “Girl/Boy Song” on the other hand may be his most intricate composition; here you get pizzicato strings, bassoon, cello, and xylophone alongside an incredibly frantic drum n’ bass onslaught. At nearly five minutes it’s the longest track here, but every detail is meticulously composed and controlled; there are neat production or stereo effects that last a quarter of a second, if that. There are a couple of tracks that could be performed almost entirely acoustically – “Goon Gumpas”, which sounds like it’s straight out of a fairy tale (or a night on shrooms), and “Logon Rock Witch”, with its percussion ensemble and church organ. Many of the melodies are flighty and catchy in a way that’s emblematic of kids’ music; “Fingerbib” almost feels like a lullaby, and the sung melody of “To Cure a Weakling Child” sounds like something you would hear on the playground.

I’m listening to this a decade on (and nearly two since it’s original release!) and I’m still conflicted on it. I seem to have remembered every single note on it, every percussive flare-up, every little mixing trick that messes with your head when listening on a good stereo; I can’t say the same for any of my Squarepusher discs. I’m a bit weary of the way the thing was engineered – the treble-heavy mix will destroy your ears if you play it too loud – but the immaculate bits that did my head in back in college still sounded great. On the other hand, it’s a difficult album to really fall for again. Much of RDJ’s best work was based around these enveloping sonic landscapes that you could easily lose yourself in; on the Richard D. James Album, it’s like the landscapes are there, but you’re constantly getting pushed out of them. There are transfixing moments (listen to “Girl/Boy Song” from 3:05 on), but as a whole, it’s akin to an unrelenting firework show. There is beauty to be found, but more than that, there are more fireworks.