Alexander Katenin – Alone In The Maze Of Rhythms
I’ve been trying to write about this one for a few weeks now. First I was distracted by the horrible Boom Boom Satellites news and then work. But to be honest, most of the delay in posting this came not from external forces, but simply from the fact that this album is so weird that I’m kind of a loss of words as to what to say about it.

This is Alone In The Maze of Rhythm. It’s a synthesizer covers album. There’s nothing entirely unique or weird about that. There were a ton of these in the wake of Wendy Carlos’ seminal 1968 masterwork Switch-On Bach, “let’s take some classical and pop tunes and play them on Moog” was practically a genre in the early 70s. I have quite a few of them. All Moog Hair? Got it. Wanna hear Gershwin on Moog? How about Handel, Beethoven or even the theme to Flesh Gordon? Guess what, a Moog version of it probably exists.

But Alone In The Maze of Rhythm is unique, and just downright weird, for a few reasons. Firstly, while most Moog covers albums were released in the late-60s to mid-70s, this one came later. It came way later. It came 1986 later.

That’s weird. You see, the Moog covers album craze was mostly born out of the fact that most people had never even heard a synthesizer before, and that their sound was so alien that you could record damn near anything on them and someone would want to hear it, at least once. But by 1986, that just wasn’t true. Synthesizers had won. Shit, not only had the world become accustomed to synthesizers, but they were quickly becoming played out. By 1986, most of the innovation that the synthesizer brought to the pop world had been sullied and watered down to the point of banality. We weren’t getting “Cars” anymore, we were getting “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight.” Synthpop was on its last legs.

I guess no one told the Soviet Union though, because that’s where Alone In The Maze Of Rhythm comes from.

Yes, from behind the Iron Curtain comes Alexander Katenin, a man who…I know absolutely zilch about. Turns out there isn’t a lot of English information on the web about mid-80s electronic covers albums from the Soviet Union. Everything I know about the guy I dug up on Discogs. He released two albums a solo artist, both synthesizer-focused cover records, and one as a part of a duo by the name of…Гоги И Гия Бешитаишвили.

Yeah, I don’t know how to say that. You’re on your own.

So what we have here is a synthesizer-covers album composed in 1986 in Soviet Russia. And yet, we still haven’t reached the actual weird parts of this record.

One of them is the instrumentation behind the record. Not all synthesizer covers albums used Moog synthesizers, but an overwhelming majority of them did, so much that for some, Moog is shorthand for synthesizer. But there are all kinds of synthesizers out there, and this was especially the case in the 80s, with the rise of digital synthesizers like the Synclavier and the Fairlight CMI, two machines that literally defined the very sound of the 80s.

But Katenin didn’t use those. No. He chose the Farfisa Syntaccordion. That’s an accordion/synthesizer combo unit. Now, I don’t know how much of a synthesizer it really is. No way it has the range or capabilities that you might find in a Moog or Fairlight unit, but it was definitely advertised as a synthesizer, as this ad from Retro Synth Ads proves. And the album certainly has a synthesizer feel to it, far more than than an accordion one to be honest.

And so if you were ever thinking “I hope one day I can hear Frank Stallone’s ‘Far From Over’ performed on a strange accordion/synthesizer hybrid,” well then you’re in luck! Ditto if you were ever hoping to hear Soviet-electronica interpretations of Elton John’s “Your Song,” “Gloria” by Laura Branigan, and the theme to “Flashdance,” among others.

This album has an incredibly strange tracklisting, one that I can’t 100% verify, as the liner notes and record label are just straight-up wrong, with tracks in the wrong order and credited to the wrong songwriters. I did my best to fix them on my MP3s, but a few tracks, specifically “Theme d’Avril,” “In Search Of” and “Cappuccino” could still be wrong. So if you give them a listen and know what their real names/point of origins are, please inform me in the comments.

So it’s a weird record with a weird point-of-origin, a weird instrument of choice and a weird tracklisting, but is it any good? Well, I mean…no? It’s cheesy as hell. The cover of “Just The Way You Are” sounds like it was taken out of a compilation of elevator music. But it does have it’s charm. “Gloria” is a dope track that’s hard to fuck up regardless, and the tracks that I can’t properly identify are legit good. “Theme d’Avril” features an absolutely haunting vocal track that sounds all the more unreal when matched up to the cheesy beats coming out of the syntaccordion. And then there’s “Cappucino” which features a rad proto-acid house grimey bass-line paired up with odd, slightly creepy vocalizing that wouldn’t be out of place on a Goblin record.

Give it a listen. And remember that in Soviet Russia, records listen to you.

Hey, I’ve been writing about 1980s Soviet pop culture for the past two hours, I’m allowed one Yakov Smirnoff reference.

I’ve never been into Dungeons & Dragons and I’m never going to be into Dungeons & Dragons, or any form of table-top gaming for that matter. Video games got me at a young age, and the idea of setting up a board and rolling dice while some dude tells me a story about wizards just never appealed to me in the least. I guess I just don’t get the appeal. I’ve tried several times too. I had friends in junior high, college and in my adult life who were way into D&D. Many of them tried to suck me in, all to no avail. But if they would’ve came at me with their 20-sided dice in one hand, and this rad 2LP set of instrumental electronic music in the other, they might have fared a little bit better.

First Quest (Complete Album Download)
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I first dropped the needle on this record after finding it in a record store on the outskirts of Tokyo last week, but it certainly wasn’t a surprisingly above-average collection of minimal, John Carpenter-inspired instrumental electronic music. Considering the inspiration material, I guess I imagined something a little more classically-minded. Perhaps I was expecting a full-on symphonic score or some sort of symphonic metal. Although I guess the latter would’ve been impossible, as this album came out in 1985 and symphonic metal didn’t really exist as a genre at that time.

Save for the final track, First Quest is entirely electronic, and while it features original music by a variety of musicians (of whom I’ll get to in a bit), the album has a fairly consistent creepy, vaguely dark, vibe that carries itself across all of the songs, regardless of composer. The previously mentioned Carpenter influence is strong with this one, echoes of Halloween are all over this record. But while the Carpenter comparison is the obvious one, when I listen to this I much more pick up the ambient stylings of Tangerine Dream, with a menacing hint reminiscent of Goblin’s work with Dario Argento.

With pedigree like that I’m probably overselling it a bit. No, this album isn’t a lost classic that’s ripe for recognition, but it’s certainly worth a listen, and way better than you’d probably expect a cheap collection of instrumental electronica inspired by a table-top board game to be. It’s catchy, fits the inspiration material damn near perfectly, and it’s a lot of fun. If some asshole in a jean jacket and retro-style shades put this out in 2016 ironically, it would probably be an indie-hit. Pitchfork would give it a 7.6.

A total of seven different artists are credited as composers on First Quest. Of them, the most prominent is probably Denis Haines, who was a member of Gary Numan’s backing band for the recording of Telekon. That group went onto form Dramatis, who released one album in the mid-80s before breaking up. He also played on albums by Fischer-Z, The Skids and, strangely enough, Marianne Faithfull. Haines’ work on the record runs the gamut, with some being rather upbeat, and others a tad more dreary and ambient. A standout of his selections is “Gnomes,” an poppy yet dark number that I could easily imagine Gary Numan singing over.

Click for hi-res.

Two other names that pop up a lot on First Quest are Phil Thornton and Dave Miller, who compose about half of the record. Together they were part of an early-80s synth-pop group called Expandis, who continue to release new music, and Thornton has a fairly prolific career as a solo musician putting out new age and ambient music (much of it sci-fi or fantasy themed). Based on their work here and from what I could find of Expandis online, Thornton and Miller probably dug the darker edge of early-80s synthpop and post-punk quite a bit. I bet they totally saw Echo & The Bunnymen live at least once. Their stuff here is good mood music that sets the tone for the album, but sometimes it falls a bit too far into new age territory for my tastes. “The Return Of Light” is a damn fine closer though.

Then there’s Steve Parsons, in addition to the handful of tracks he donated to this record, he also worked a bit as a film composer in the 80s, contributing songs to the superb Empire State soundtrack, and composing the horrifically bad score the the hideously awful Howling II. His tracks here aren’t that great, but I’ve read that the solo stuff he released under the name Snips is much better.

There’s also Barrie Guard, whose one contribution to First Quest, “The Heroes Ride Out” is an easy highlight. If his Discogs is any indication, Guard got a lot of work in the 70s and 80s, working for musicians as diverse as Bonnie Tyler, Dusty Springfield and Cliff Richard. He was also the orchestra conductor for the score to one of my boyfriend’s favorite films, A Room With A View, so the next time you want to connect Merchant And Ivory to D&D in just one step, there you go. Too bad he never stuck with the minimal electronic score thing, he was pretty good at it.

The only group credited on First Quest is a band called The Device, who only show up for one track. Their tune isn’t bad, and is definitely one of the more Carpenter-inspired joints on the album. They didn’t seem to do anything outside of the album though, and I can’t find much about them. Finally, there’s guitarist G.P. Hall, who concludes the album with an entirely out-of-place guitar track. He has a fairly expansive Wiki entry that he probably wrote and should probably be deleted.

The album also features some brief snippets of narration by Valentine Dyall, who geeks will probably recognize as The Black Guardian from Doctor Who. He also starred in a shitload of British movies throughout the 40s and into the 80s before he passed away in 1985, shortly before the release of this album, hence his credit as “The Late Valentine Dyall.”

The packaging for First Quest is rather elaborate, featuring a gatefold sleeve and two custom inner sleeves which feature printed instructions for a Dungeons & Dragons campaign that follows the (rather loose) story outlined in the album’s music. Not knowing much about D&D, I couldn’t tell you if the campaign is well thought-out or worthwhile in anyway, I’d love to hear insight from anyone who might know.

Not a great album, but definitely a fascinating one, and a wonderfully dated product of its time that I think is ripe for rediscovery by a more accepting audience. I hope you find it as fun as I do.

Before I get to the music tonight, I want to share a few things I wrote over at that other site. I put up a review  of some recent game music releases, wrote a thing about how I’m done with horror movies for now, followed that up with a hella bizarre piece about Kiki’s Deliver Service, Amazing Grace and Chuck and the lack of human empathy (I was having a strange week), did a quick write-up of another Nirvana re-issue, put together a sadly relevant piece about a movie that predicted America’s mass shooting problem, and then closed out with a piece on STP.

Been busy. Anyways, some weird shit for the holiday season.

I’m consistently impressed by the oddball shit I find in Japanese record stores.

This is Life In The Future, a bootleg compilation of obscure Swedish post-punk.

Quick, ask me anything about Swedish post-punk.

Okay, I’m going to be honest and tell you that I don’t know shit about Swedish post-punk. I didn’t know the Swedes had post-punk. I thought they only had two genres in Sweden, ultra-poppy and cheery dance-pop and hardcore death metal. Shows you what I know.

But I wished I knew more, but because damn, this is a really great record. It does kind of get off to a rough start with the intentionally abrasive “Forlast Javel” by HörförstÃ¥else, but it picks up soon after that, with all flavors of post-punk getting due mention here. Like dissonant, depressing post-punk ala Joy Division? Then check out “Vanda Inat” by Unter Den Liden. Into quirky dance-punk with an electronic bent? Be sure to play the utterly manic “Happy Funeral” by the wonderfully named Kitchen & The Plastic Spoons. If you like darkwave synth-pop with a touch of New Order you’re more than covered here with great tracks like “East People” by Vitality and “The Gift” by Reasons To Live. And if you like weird shit that would make most people’s head explode, skip straight to the utterly bizarre “I Throw Punches” by one Friz Be.

As I said before, most of the stuff on this record is incredibly obscure. Most of the acts here didn’t even release a full album, and instead just offered a single or two before vanishing completely. Of the acts on here, the most well-known is probably Cortex, who get their material re-issued on a semi-regular basis. I couldn’t tell you much about them though.

Keep in mind, this is a vinyl rip of a bootleg record that was in itself most likely sourced from vinyl. So don’t expect killer audio quality with this one. Still, good stuff overall, so if you’re like me and have exhausted nearly every post-punk act that England and America had to offer, check it out!

Complete Tracklisting (Download Link)

1. Forlast Javel - Hörförståelse
2. Tristess No. 3 – GPJ
3. Happy Funeral – Kitchen & The Plastic Spoons
4. Envy – Modern Art
5. Jesus I Betong – Cortex
6. Chinese Junkies – Njurmannen
7. Dance – Odd Stories
8. Rekordmagasinet – Mats Olofsson
9. The Gift – Reason To Live
10. I Throw Punches – Friz Be
11. Vanda Inst – Unter Den Liden
12. East People – Vitality
13. She’s A Waitress – Elektriska Cellskapet
14. Operator – Tres-Operator

Things I know about New Zealand:

• Kiwis
• Sheep
• Peter Jackson movies
• Steriogram (New Zealand’s Sum 41)
• Sheep
• That fucking OMC song
• Split Enz/Crowded House
• Sheep
• Kiwis

And sadly, I’d venture to say that I know more about the tiny island country than most. Let’s be honest, New Zealand is mostly known for…not being Australia. And that’s too bad, because I’ve recently discovered that a hell of a lot of great rock has come out of kiwi country, far more than enough to make up for “How Bizarre.”

From what I’ve read about New Zealand rock music, it seemed to have really hit its stride in the early 80s, and even grew enough to have cultivated it’s own scene dubbed the “Dunedin Sound,” an indie/jangle pop sound with a lo-fi bent. If the Wiki is anything to be trusted (and why not), the Dunedin Sound was a direct influence on R.E.M., Pavement and Mudhoney. Those bands, of course, laid much of the groundwork for what became the indie rock sound of the late-80s and early-90s, which in turn became the alternative rock sound of the mid-90s that absolutely dominated the cultural landscape for a few brief and wonderful years. I don’t know if it’s fair to say that without the Dunedin Sound we wouldn’t have had Nirvana, but it probably didn’t hurt.

In the world of New Zealand indie-rock, the big record label was/is Flying Nun. From what I can tell, if any Americans in the 80s and 90s were exposed to any New Zealand rock at all, it was because of that label and its efforts to promote their acts overseas via compilation albums. The first of these compilations was Tuatara, and it came to the US via the indie label Strange Weekend in 1985.

But Flying Nun weren’t the only label in town (which amazes me, because I thought there only 28 people in New Zealand), and Strange Weekend must’ve thought those other labels had talent worth promoting because just a year after the release of Tuatara they put out Unexplored, which focused more on even smaller labels from the small country.

Most of the acts on Unexplored were on Propeller Records, a label that was mostly known for it’s post-punk bands. The label apparently quite well-regarded at the time, but it didn’t last long. In fact, by the time Unexplored came out, Propeller had already shuttered. Its founder, Simon Grigg, went on to run a couple high-profile concert venues in the country before giving it another go with a second record label called Huh! Records. One of their first releases was the debut album by OMC. Which just fucking figures.

I thought I’d be able to connect OMC to this record if I tried hard enough, but I didn’t expect I’d be able to do it so easily and with so few degrees of separation.

But let’s not hold OMC against him (and honestly, OMC were better than “How Bizarre”) because if this album is any indication, he discovered some downright amazing talent during Propeller Records’ short time, and it’s a pity that most of it has been lost to the ages.

Lot of highlights here, pretty much every song on this album is worth a listen. It all really reminds me of the post-punk Liverpool scene of the late 70s. If you dig on Echo And The Bunnymen, Joy Division, The Sound and Comsat Angels, then you’ll probably eat this stuff up big time.

Complete tracklisting (download link)

1. Marsha – Blam Blam Blam
2. Falling – Johnny Bongo
3. Scarred – Car Crash Set
4. Dancing With Stars In My Eyes – Screaming Meemees
5. Grey Rooms – Sonya Waters
6. Auckland Tonight – The Androidss
7. Queen St. – The Posonbys D.C.’s
8. Conversation With A Machine – Big Sideways
9. I Like To Drive – Scott Calhoun
10. Strange Weekend – Martial Law

My pan-American trip continues. Since my last post I have left Portland, traveled south to see my brother in Florida, and am now in my lovely hometown of Toledo, Ohio, where it is dark, dreary and raining.

It’s good to be home.

Coming back to America after living abroad for over a year has kind of been a mindfuck in a lot of ways. I’m not used to driving, and everything is so fucking far away! In Tokyo if I want to get a drink or a quick bite to eat, I’m no more than a 10 minute walk to a convenience store or rice bowl place. But now that I’m out in the boonies of Northwest Ohio, it takes me a good 20 minutes to drive to the nearest decent grocery store, and all my friends are, at minimum, a good 30+ minutes away. As someone who never had patience to begin with, it’s quite the challenge.

I also didn’t miss driving, and the gigantic sprawl of construction barrels that is the Ohio interstate sure is a blast.

Oh, and this is the first time I’ve been around friends and family since the whole coming out thing. And that’s been a series of awkward ordeals that I don’t want to even get into.

But at least I can get a decent bloody mary mix here, so that should solve at least some of the problems I have at the moment.

Now drum and bass!

The Legendary Dreamscape Presents the Millennium Collection – Disc 1
In SalemI stopped into a little record store called Harvest Records. It’s not the biggest or best store I’ve been to, but it is a charming little place, and it features a wonderfully diverse selection of music, from hip-hop to classic rock. I picked up the new Modest Mouse there, as well a crazy nine CD electronic box set entitled The Legendary Dreamscape Presents The Millennium Collection. From what I can gather from its Discogs page, it’s actually a compilation of compilations, collecting three separate three-disc box sets – each of which dedicate one CD to happy hardcore, one to “old skool” and one to drum and bass.

Tonight I’ll post the first CD, which is a radical mix of classic drum and bass that goes from techstep to more fast-paced “classic” dnb before sliding back into the sci-fi tinged techstep for the finale. It features a good array of DJs, including my favorite dnb producers of all-time, including Ed Rush and Optical, who together are responsible for Wormhole, which is easily in my top five electronic albums of all-time. That shit is legendary and if you consider yourself an electronic music fan and you don’t own that, then you are fucking it all up and should be ashamed of your punk ass.

Enjoy the hardcore electronic music. Next post will be all Madonna.