Time is out of joint, to quote Hamlet. The prevalence and availability of information and recording technology have made it seem as if we're living in every decade of the last 130 years, simultaneously. Want to spend yr hours surrounded by the 1920s? No problem. Want to pretend yr a quaker farmer from 1890? There's groups and communities for that, as well. What we're left with is a disorienting, but uplifting, atemporality.

The stage is set to finally realize a legitimate steampunk future, as the past rubs leather tweed elbows with the polished chrome future. This can be seen admirably in Exposure, the debut EP from the Jules Verne Theory.

Exposure is like a disco soundtrack for Captain Nemo shimmying on the holodeck of the USS Enterprise, as Italo good-times futurism meets Brad Fiedel Terminator beats, as stories of jetpacks and abandoned cities unfold.

There is great power and potential in this anachronism. We now have the ability to decide what reality tunnel we want to live in. Want optimistic futurist? What about corroded apocalyptica? Whatever makes you happy. We now have the ability to focus on what we like, and be surrounded by it, and hopefully ignoring the things we despise until they go away.

Of course, Jules Verne Theory are aware of the shadow side of this escapism, as the future they are envisioning is not entirely rosy. Like on "She's A Riot", where "every motion above ground is observed", while on "How I Get Things Done", "everybody needs something to distract themselves from getting things done." Like their namesake, Jules Verne Theory use the vernacular of classic sci-fi to critique and comment on the world.

Jules Verne Theory have the proper perspective to provide critique. While this may be their first EP, Richard Slee and Arron Clague have been in the music biz for ages. Slee's worked for the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and done successful remixes for Heaven 17, while Claque is heavily involved with theater on his home of the Isle Of Man. Between them, they've seen dozens of styles and trends come and go. They should be immune from hype, and have the perspective of experience.

This is mostly true. Jules Verne Theory are not interested in fitting in to any trending genres. They're not making trap remixes of 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea or dubstep remixes of La Voyage Dans La Luna (although Air had some success with something like the latter). Instead, they focus on classic electro-tinged synthpop to deliver their anti-gravity dance parties and detached social critique.

One wishes, however, that with the perspective of experience, that Jules Verne Theory had paid more attention to classic mixing and mastering techniques, as Exposure suffers from the loudness wars of 2014. It's hyper-polished, squeaky clean, squeezed and sculpted and compressed to stand out over car commercials and mall crowds. It's not a deal-breaker, but it can get a bit wearing on the ears.

One suspects that Jules Verne Theory's mission is to infiltrate the clubs with their steampunk grooves. Perhaps it is to offer some of that wisdom and perspective, or maybe something as simple as trying to increase awareness of classic sci-fi, both of which are good things. But surely subtlety and confidence are traits found in all eras. And isn't it the job of any good time traveller to try and correct the sins of whatever past or future they are inhabiting? Or bringing those insights back to the present?

I suspect Jules Verne Theory will be successful in their mission, and these sounds will find favor with the rivetheads, robo-jocks, and space cowboys. Here's to hoping, next time, they believe in themselves a bit more, and leave a bit more to the shadows and imagination.

Does humor belong in music?
That depends.
If your beats storm, and your synths rage, a little bit of tongue-in-cheek can be permitted.
Dance Of Atoms are an enigmatic duo of producers, known as Atom Man and The Phantom Of Funk, hailing from somewhere in Texas. They play a blend of '80s New Wave and aggressive electro rock, updated with every sub-genre of electronic music of the last 2 decades. They've been compared to everyone from Gary Numan to Depeche Mode to early Lady Gaga, to give you an idea of how many disparate sounds and styles you will find on this short afterburn of an EP.
A good portion of Atom & Eve's 7 tracks are straight-ahead electro club fare, without a hint of pastiche, delivered with adrenalized intensity. The closest style I could compare it to would be electroclash, which is to say epic, trancy club fare delivered with punk rock abandon. Anybody who's lost themselves in the grooves of The Faint, LCD Soundsystem or Fischerspooner will find something to love here.
It is in the songs "The '80s", with its cheeky mention of Swatches and Pee-Wee's Playhouse, and their dismembered cover of Queen's "Another One Bites The Dust" where the band show their satirical side, and why that's not necessarily a bad thing. "Another One Bites The Dust" sounds like it's been riffed on by Devo, before being swallowed by Skrillex chaos and wub-wub dubstep wobble bass. While this sounds like a questionable amalgam, it is in the detailed way it is all spliced together that this band shines, and shows themselves to be serious musicians.
It's in the details where Dance Of Atoms differentiate themselves from the imitators. These are no preset-hackers: there's thousands of synth sounds on this short EP, and each one seems carefully chosen and placed. On top of that, their beats are muscular and fierce, begging to be blasted through powerful PAs. And while they do frequently coast along in a forceful 4/4, they frequently switch up the rhythm to complicated polyrhythms, sometimes reggaeton, sometimes pummeling rhythmic noise. The one thing you can be sure of, you will not get bored listening to Atom & Eve.
My one complaint is that it sounds as if the band mixed and mastered the EP themselves, and things can become a bit overloaded and jarring at times. There's a myriad of elements, and they're all clamoring for attention simultaneously, fritzing out the speakers. When Dance Of Atoms return to the studio to record a full-length, I beseech them to please find some pleasing reverb, and take the edge off of some of these corners.
Atom Man (I'm assuming it's him) proves himself to be a fine front man, with a wide vocal range. Sometimes he delivers a romantic Bernard Sumner croon, before breaking into some Gloria Gaynor pyrotechnics. A lot of people accuse electronic music of being cerebral, detached and unemotional; Atom & Eve should rest their case.
All in all, Atom & Eve is a promising debut from a burgeoning act. They've got mystique. They've got studio acumen. They've got chops. They've got passion, but don't take themselves too seriously. All to the good, I say. They're off to a fine start!
Atom & Eve is only available for streaming via the band's website at http://www.thedanceofatoms.com, getting a physical release, plus the usual digital channels, on July 7th. So get a head start, and drop some of these tracks on your clubbing mixtapes.

"how i learned to stop worrying and love the grid"

The cover of Vittoria Fleet's debut LP, on the quality French label n5md, shows a geodesic dome rising from a forest canopy. It's a decent analogy for the electronic sculpture of pulsing waves and acid melodies, rising from the earthy foundation of beats and vocals.

At this point, naysayers and doom merchants decrying the death of everything, have become a tired and broken refrain. Yes, we know; there are no new ideas. Yes, we understand; your generation was so much better than ours, and we are doomed to a dwindling twilight half-life of recycling your regurgitations. Obviously, the only art that is meaningful emerges from a vacuum, like some tribe of noble pygmys, untouched by civilization. Or Jandek.

For the rest of us, however, living, working and seeking inspiration in 2014, you have probably heard a lot of records. Possibly millions of them. Maybe even billions. It is just as suspect to deny your influences as it is to ape or cop them, maybe even more so.

So, yes, let us get the obvious out of the way: Vittoria Fleet sound a lot like late '90s Bjork, mainly due to the floating quality of Giada Zerbo's vocals, which features a slight, hard-to-place accent. This similarity is furthered by shifting, skittering percussion and squiggling analog synths, that brings to mind late '90s IDM/braindance, from the likes of Aphex Twin or Wagon Christ.

This late '90s esoterica is augmented by a late '70s/early '80s analog electronic quality, Vangelis minimoogs and acid squelches - all hands on deck, riding knobs and twisting faders.

Vittoria Fleet are clearly re-organizing sounds from all eras, anything that strikes their magpie tastes, which are refined as a sommelier's palate. They may be drawing sounds, styles and influence from all over, but there is nothing scattered, slipshod or random about their approach. Instead, they are trawling the annals of history, particularly the history of Electronic music, choosing what they like, jettisoning the rest, and then carefully polishing and placing every incident. While this record may have it's roots in academic and futurist musics of the past, there is no mistaking this as anything other than completely contemporary.

The secret is in the bassweight: you hardly ever heard drums this tight and muscular before dubstep. In 2014, we are getting bass and compression down to a mystical science, making beats that are able to simultaneously bludgeon and caress, like the best sex ever. And you're not even sore the next day.

Where their influences sounded distant, airy and aloof, through the disassociation of the intellect, Acht manages to be futuristic while still having heart, flesh and heat.

Acht is the duo's debut LP, following 2011's well-received Kissing Cousins EP. Since then, VF have migrated from east London to the cradle of Techno, Berlin. Here's hoping this move will be beneficial, as this pair deserves to be heard by tens of thousands.

In the press release for Acht, they talk about "A careful balancing act that is the nature of the music they make and the processes required in nurturing it." A balancing act, between the organic and the electronic, between the delicate and details and the fierce and forceful. It's hard enough to get these fluttering walls of sound, but to adorn them with lace and Christmas lights is a mystical science, indeed.

A very impressive debut; a must hear.

In an interview with the website Fluid Radio (fluidradio.co.uk) Italian composer described the origins of the title Tarsia, his first release under his own name.

"The term Tarsia (or Intarsia) denotes an ancient technique of wood inlaying. The first examples of this practice date back to the XIV century and come from the Siena region. I have chosen this title because I consider this technique similar to the that of a lot of contemporary electro-acoustic music. To make these wood inlays they used rare and carefully selected natural elements, which were then treated, and sometimes individually coloured, and subsequently placed next to each other in order to create complex patterns, which is what many musicians within this field tend to do."

It seems like the terms 'field recordings', 'modern classical', and 'soundscapes' could be interchangeable, so often are they found in the same sentence. It seems like every time an artist lays a cello or a piano to tape, it is accompanied by handheld tape recordings, the sounds of rippling brooks, and the ringing of churchbells. It is hard to stand out in this saturated field, but Giulio Aldinucci achieves this rare balance, by creating whole compositions, that don't merely sound like 'classical lite' with some voicemail pasted on top.

The composer achieves this effect by carefully mixng and balancing the sounds, creating a delicate interplay that suggests technical mastery and a sensitive ear. Most of the sounds are synthetic in nature, overlaid with pristine soundscapes: crystal running rivers, dogs barking, snippets of conversation. It seems like a memory of wandering the Italian countryside. Aldinucci's music may have originated in a soundcard or a circuit board, but they beautifully complement the acoustic recordings with masterful mixing, making a cohesive whole, like the wooden boxes Tarsia is named after.

Once upon a time, a record like this would be merely considered 'new age' and left at that, mainly due to the soothing synth ambiance that makes up most of this record. However, with synthesizer opuses making a heavy comeback for the last 10 years or so, perhaps we are ready to consider these electronic instruments on their own terms. I would like to amend the newage tag with 'heavenly' or dare i even say it, 'beautiful'.


Giulio Aldinucci, and the Nomadic Kids Republic that released this, are ones to watch out for, seemingly creating reams of gorgeous modern classicism. Physical copies of Tarsia are long gone, but you can stream or download copies from the label's bandcamp site.

Lovely stuff! Recommended.

On ((Sjalvskalv)), Swedish electro-improvisor Herman Muntzing delivers a tangle of genre-bending electronics.

'How would a contemporary folk-electronica that was born in the country sound like?'

Herman Muntzing draws tiny tones and textures from the world around him, creating a microscopic electronica that bobs and grooves, as well as sizzles, hisses and fits. Sjalvskalv could be placed in the electroacoustic improv trajectory; it's easy to imagine the artist bowing metal, eliciting small taps on resonant chambers, gathering sounds like a magpie, and then splicing them together as an incongruous whole. Overall, the music exists in a grey zone where Autechre's glitch, Wolf Eyes post-industrial scrape, with Voice Crack's unpredictable crackle crawl beneath rusted barbed wire lines, looking for water. Muntzing seems like a direct descendant of the AMM school; idealistic, communist electronic music, full of radio crackle and grit. ((Sjalksvalk)) (which means Self Quake in English) crosses the boundaries of 3 decades of experimental music.

Most of the information I could find on this disc was in Swedish or in badly broken English, so I had to leave a lot to imagination. Half of the fun of listening to improvised records is imagining where it comes from, what's the context? To let cinematic landscapes unfold in your mind, to let yourself wander and lose yourself in wondering. So it's safe to say that Muntzing draws a lot from the traditional electroacoustic improv (EAI) toolbox of springs, tiny bits of glass, bowed metal to make an industrial clockwork mechanism that is wired up and made to dance like a twitchy marionette. It is unclear how much of this sequenced or how much is created in the moment, but ((Sjalvskalv)) seems composed, put together. The main thing that seperates this album from the legions of Onkyo imitators is that it actually grooves. It seems like Muntzing is using EAI as a source of interesting sounds, like a sound designer, and then spinning the results into unique but still traditional art gallery techno.

It feels like an Autechre/Oval/Warp Records glitch album, but a good one; unexpected rhythms and industrial sparks, a bit of a late '70s vibe. It's got a modern Juke/Footwork plastic sequenced drum machine sound to the rhythms, at the same time, that will appeal to younger music fans. It sounds like the sounds were triggered from a video game controller, a live-sampled techno. Standing at the crossroads between various genres, perhaps explaining the one to the other. ((Sjalksvalk)) sounds like a classic arthouse improv CD, the kind that you would mail-order from Sweden, but starting to cross over into the clubs. Which could really help to introduce some fresh blood into EAI, which it needs for survival.

Brings to mind this Hacker Farm record i reviewed the other day, U/H/F http://forestpunk.wordpress.com/2013/03/24/hacker-farm-uhf/
. They're weird British duo that uses homemade electronics and found sounds to approximate the feeling of watching grimey CCTV surveillance cameras. It's a feeling in the air, people are looking for unpredictable dance music, i think we've burnt out a bit on slick club bangers. People are looking for tactile things, things they can hold on to. That's part of why we're seeing a resurgence in late '70s, Throbbing Gristle-style Industrial music. The post-punk axis continues.
If you also factor in that the mighty Autechre have released a new album, Exai, that's got everybody talking, perhaps this is a good time for Herman Muntzing's music to hit people's ears. It's got a good groove, oftentimes, and covers a wide range of styles, seems like it was recorded in a series of events. It's an interesting patchwork; I've played it around the house quite a bit, it gives a sense of malfunctioning appliances, reality falling into a lockwork rhythm, everybody's head starts to nod. The best glitch makes you listen to your environment differently, slows down time and attention.

Muntzing's music is a worthwhile addition to the canon. He is a talented sound designer, and seemingly a talented rhythmists. I applaud him for expanding the pallet of both techno and improvised music, both of which are so full of possibilities, but are so often limited by form and cliche. The press release says:

'So there is no refinement, just a great sense of style and design. The music also becomes a part of the debate of how improvised music sometimes tends to anxiously cling to their own conventions. With sounds that with closed eyes can develop pictures of chicken incubators and cowmilking units and impertinent flies buzzing around your ears, this is an improvised music that has moved away from the usual style exercises, and sustains an unpretentious approach to improv and who just wants to play on his own terms.'

Herman Muntzing is playing on his own terms, and making something worthwhile. Keep going!