The Feelies - 'No One Knows' (Coyote)

There's not much to this 12" - it's an extended single, marked on the label as 45rpm but actually 33rpm, so you don't even get better sound quality on the two Good Earth tracks, 'the High Road' and 'Slipping (Into Something)'. Well, I guess you do, as a shorter run time means it can be mastered louder, but I couldn't tell. They are great songs, and the two b-sides are both covers - the Beatles, again, with 'She Said, She Said', not quite as luxuriously reinvented as 'Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except for Me and My Monkey' but with a nice psychedelic vibe - a thicker middle than most of the other songs from this period. 'Slipping (Into Something)' is a pretty great song, with very minimal vocals and a thick, accelerating ending that builds to an inevitable But then the kicker - a cover of Neil's 'Sedan Delivery', done in the same tossed off way as the Beatles cover. This is faithful, and the high pitched voice is even accurate, though out of character. The singing on both of these covers has an exuberance that hasn't been heard since Crazy Rhythms and that's very, very welcome - the saving grace of an otherwise unnecessary EP.

Kate Bush - 'The Dreaming' (EMI)

She's a household name in the UK, but resigned to "cult" (or even worse, "college radio") status in the US. This is a US issue of The Dreaming, definitely my favourite Kate Bush record as it strikes the perfect balance between big bold glossy pop record and major weirdo art-statement. Production-wise, Bush is rooted in 80's drums and bass sounds - specifically the Fairlight synth which is just everywhere to be heard. This is Bush's vision of music, which she's stuck to fairly consistently - I love how her 'comeback' record, Aerial, is fairly timeless in that it could have been produced in 1987 at the peak of her powers. Her weirdly synthetic bass, heavily compressed background vocals, and processed instruments are a really distinct place on the electro-acoustic axis. This record isn't dripping with hits like Hounds of Love, but it's chock full of near-hits. 'Sat in Your Lap' and 'The Dreaming' were the big singles, and both are ferocious. The former is thunderous and pounding and I always sing along in falsetto to the 'Some say that knowledge is...' banshee screech. 'The Dreaming', well, it's just an amazing tune, a bit of car crash and murderous stalker at the same time. No one would typically compre this to Brian Wilson's SMiLE sessions but that's as close of an antecedent as I can hear - just bathed in minor key hysterics instead of sunny Americana. The Aussie coda blends into 'Night of the Swallow' which is more of the Never For Ever piano balladry - the signature K. Bush sound. It's here where the production really separates these cuts from her earlier works. The strings on this album sound fake - but they're credited as "strings" and "fiddle" so I'm sure they're not MIDI. It all strangely works. The Dreaming edges out Hounds of Love for me because it contains my personal favourite Kate Bush tune, 'Suspended in Gaffa', the most fractured piece of bubble-gum imaginable. It's direct and driving, and in opposition to the lyrical stasis described. I've listened to it hundreds of times and it never gets tiresome. "This album was meant to be played loud", says the liner notes, and that distinct Bush bass warble sounds absolutely sick when you crank it. But the lesser-remembered cuts on The Dreaming have beautiful, mesmerising passages. 'Leave it Open' is a wonderful bit of melting energy, and the dark edge of lyrics like "Harm is in Us" sets a nice element of unknowing. 'Houdini' touches on the canyon ladies vibe, though maybe not intentional - and has a great dark growl at times. 'Get Out of My House,' has a bit of crunchy wobble in the 'This house is full of...' part and I love how it's pretty much all tribal echo-drums. 1982 was a hell of a year and I can only imagine walking into a record store that year and leaving with both The Dreaming and This Heat's Deceit under my arm. It's even more impressive that this record ends with Paul Hardiman imitating a donkey.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Untitled' (Ernst)

But wait, there's bonus Brinkmann! Discogs tells me this is untitled, where the label offers "Max Ernst + (square root of 3)". The square root of 3 sounds like the name for some late 90s electronic dude so I wouldn't be surprised if this was a collaboration. Musically we get two very similar sides, bursting with eclectic beats, all quite clean of course. But this isn't just the territory of shiny handbags and glow sticks, cause there's something very soulful about these sonorities. At times the second side reminds me -- slightly -- of worldbeat hybrids, or even bands like O.Rang (not a bad thing, not a bad thing!) but there's also some 70's disco soul as well. It's more Detroit than Berlin, but actually someone who knows more about electronic can make that call, not me. I'm not sure how much I'd ever spin this unless I was having a party, but that ain't happening soon, cause, well, I'm too busy listening to records! I can't imagine ever needing to hear more Brinkmann but I guess this stuff works like that.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Olga/Petra' (Ernst)

There have been times when getting through 36 tracks of minimal techno seemed like an impossible task, but I'm proud to say I made it. There were ups and downs - maybe even a consistent wave of ups and downs - but at the end of 'Petra', my final entry in the female names series, I felt relief and satisfaction. It helps that this is one of the strongest entries in the series, with 'Olga' particularly probably most successfully realising the idea of "minimal techno". The two tracks here are incredibly stark, unadorned bass drum thuds with little/no variation. It's not a rich psychedelic tapestry, but it's a perfectly acceptable attempt at extreme aesthetics. 'Petra' picks up the pace a bit, with the first track falling into a 1-2 rah-rah techno beat, though again Brinkmann holds back and the piece is marvelously monotonous. Part of me almost wants to hunt down Q-Z because I *hate* incomplete collections, but, they day I bought these, that's all that was available. Possibly, that's all that had been released at the time. I always assumed a DJ died that week and his mom sold his records. My partial collection is not worth holding onto though, so, offers welcome in the comments thread. I have a friend who tries to follow a "format rule" as strictly as possible - if he started buying, say, Dead C albums on CD, then he must always try to get the other Dead C albums on CD, not vinyl. I think he maybe has even passed up some gems because it would break the rule, though given the infrequency of dual-format releases these days (particularly with smaller labels and a more marginal market for physical media) this is probably near impossible. He might be reading this now, in which I say "hi".

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Monika/Nicola' (Ernst)

The end is near, but first we gotta trudge through four more techno tracks, named after Monika and Nicola. 'Monika' starts with a full on dance party, but it's the second track that gets back to what I'd actually call minimalism. There's a lot of chirping and high-pitched oscillators zig-zagging back and forth, and I like it. I don't think it's enough to keep my interest though; by the end of 'Nicola' I've tuned out, unable to lock into the relentless grooves. I know Brinkmann is really celebrated but it's still dance music to me; I don't think he fights the impulse for the easy dancefloor hook enough, and that stuff is just kryptonite to my ears. Space is good, and on the best tracks I think he achieves this despite the frantic pace. But 'Nicola' thickens up the mix with resonating bass frequencies and wider brushstrokes; I'm sure this approach has its champions but I'm unfortunately not one of them. We've only got one more named Brinkmann to get through, and at the moment, I'm thinking these have to go on the sell pile. They've been cluttering up Dislocated Underbite Spinal Alphabetical Encourage Templates for far too long, and the parts I'm fond of aren't enough to justify keeping them. Maybe there are one or two sides I like, but these belong together as a set, even though I don't have anything past P.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Karin/Lotte' (Ernst)

Instead of the two sides of this record representing two personalities, it's somewhat sideways. The Women of Brinkmann series is always two tracks per side, but in this case the first track of both 'Karin' and 'Lotte' bear similarities, and the second tracks too - there's more cross-side affinity than same-side, dig? To analyse this in musical terms, well, the easy way to put it: the first track of each side is fun and the second one is intense and menacing. 'Karin' is so fun that I truly don't enjoy it, as it's upbeat dance clang is marred by excessive vocal sampling. These voices keep urging me to shake my ass or something like that; I try to tune out the meaning and just focus on the human voice as instrument, but alas, I fail to appreciate it. 'Lotte's opening cut is less loquacious but just as bouncy. I enjoy it more, though part of me thinks I've gotten stuck in that horrible rave scene in Matrix 2. Of course, this is eletronical minimalism but it feels like Brinko's lost the plot a bit; it's all right to desire diversity and development in one's work though, so I don't want to fault him for not making record-after-record of 'clicks and cuts'. I've enjoyed the sides that show the more pulsing, dark atmospherics, and the second half of 'Karin' is exactly that. The undercurrent builds up and it's relentless, though hammering with dull thuds instead of the icepick poise.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Inge/Jutta' (Ernst)

I might call the first half of 'Inge' the LEAST minimal effort to date. Yeah, the beat is constant, but it shifts gears quite a lot, and is based around a thick, vampy synth organ. The accents are nice icing on this cake but the whole feel changes up a lot and it's hard to really lose yourself in the mindless repetitive thik-thik-thuk that the better tracks in this series achieve. Yeah, you know I'm flipping out every time I listen to this, bashing into walls and shaking my elbows at the mechano-motor. 'Inge's second half retains the artificial submarine seascape but with a more propulsive bass patch. It's also not immune to a few changeups, which if the sound sources weren't so barren and strange would probably feel extremely clichéd. 'Jutta' is practically triumphant, with an open-arms beat that starts to feel a little bit immature once the synthy drum fills start. But it's Brinkmann's stadium rock, I think. After all, he's the rockstar who's made a 12" side to prove he's banged the whole alphabet, right? The doot-doot-doot factor is high on 'Jutta' but that's the way it goes I guess. Please forgive these terrible images I stole from discogs.com out of lazyness; but I guess you get the idea pretty quickly.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Gisela/Heidi' (Ernst)

As these go on, I swear they are getting less and less minimal -- or maybe I am just hearing things I never heard before, which is always a way to gauge a minimal product's success! 'Gisela' starts with a rather hip-hoppy vocal sample which pops up a few times as it goes along. This is a testament to partying down, good times, having fun, and shaking booty. There's more upper mids than the last 12" and it's a bit less special, less exotic. But no worries, cause this is one to just cut back and dance to. All proceeds according to plan, particularly across the sides with 'Heidi's first half, but the second half, my god, is a nervous, cluttered nightmare. Brinkmann likes to take it to the dark side now and then; here's another dense, anxiety-driven fever dream to close out the disc. It's effective theatre, yes, but I admit I was already wondering about the next one.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Erika/Frauke' (Ernst)

'Erika' begins as a bit of a minimal nightmare - the most rudimentary kick and click, but you're trapped inside a closet where you can distantly hear birds outside but someone in the nearby room keeps making the "error" sound on their PC. It's maddening and effective, and I wonder what LaMonte Young would make of it? This is music that has the ability to affect the body and brain in strange ways, though not in the least bit of a fun dance kinda vibe. The second part is a bit fruity, reminding me someone of a Holger Czukay bassline. There's always a nice juxtaposition between incredibly cris and synthetic sounds, and hissy, thick wooly ones. There are a few keychanges but don't blink or you'll miss 'em. It's quite a lot of gumballs and other goofyness, so it comes as a strange surprise to those expecting nothing but austere German minimalism. 'Frauke' has a hint of ethereal mist, but the synthetic bass pulse is undeniable. It builds up a combo of spastic keypushing and wailing sirens, but all mixed so low they're easy to tune out. A weird effect. The second side of 'Frauke' is even moodier - a repetitive woodpecker pulse is there but it's subsumed by the cloudy ambience. It's a slightly detuned, warped synth pad and you can't help but feel that things are melting, despite the rock-solid pulse. This has been my favourite so far.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Clara/Doris' (Ernst)

'Clara' is a dark and somewhat pounding number that in it's first half (see, all of these 12"s are four tracks, two per name, so I am treating them as two suites -- although because there's lock-grooves galore, I have to pick up the needle constantly just to get these started) changes things up a bit at the end. But no worries, as the second half returns to it's minimal, muted-bass pounding and never lets up. There are weird gasps - some sharp blocky sounds hiding in the corners of the stereo field and the occasional white noise flourish. It's extremely routine techno but conjures a dark enough woodsy feel to me that I dig it. 'Doris' is different beast entirely. The first half continues along the bassy, wood-block feel but it has a few sampled vocals creeping out, but only a hint! The second half is truly sublime - sounding like all natural percussion samples, this relatively chilled-out track bounces around with some intense tinny clicking and some heavy low-mids eating up the stereo field. It stops and adjusts itself a few times, and ends up reminding me a bit of some AACM/Art Ensemble jams, like on Bap-tizum. Yeah, I know, i tend to like the most organic sounding of the techno records I own, but kill me.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Axel/Bernd' (Ernst)

Oh yeah, this is why I hate techno - cause it sucks! 'Axel' begins with a streak of white noise that continues over a beat, creating a Tron-type of universe that's probably fun to dance do if you're zonked out of your mind on some shitty pills, but pretty boring to listen to at home. The second half of 'Axel' is the same beat with the white noise pulled back, so there's a little more space to bounce around, but it still does nothing for me. I like music that celebrates humanity, and the sparse, more clicky-based Brinkmann stuff somehow does that through it's repetition and negative space. But this stuff is just like listening to a computer jacking off. Now 'Bernd' is a little better but still too active for my tastes , with the beats all flanged out and jittery. I don't know why this 12" has male names and not female ones; maybe this is the reason for my dislike of it, since it's not really all that different from the female records. I should also take this point to comment on how amazingly strange the surfaces of these LPs look - I don't know if they were cut to have all of these patterns in them, or if that's just an inevitable product of having such repeitive music. But they look awesome and sometimes my tonearm slides all over the place while playing them, making me wonder if this is even a good idea. So cheers for that, Thomas - the flourishes, design-wise, are in the details of the grooves and not in the packaging.

Thomas Brinkmann - 'Anna / Beate' (Ernst)

I've always been the type to say that I hate techno music, which is mostly true. However, I came across the chance to scoop up a cache of Brinkmann 12"s for a really good price - this was in or about 1999 -- so I leapt at it. And I really love these records, or at least I say that even though I haven't listened to any of them in a decade. When I was going on some rant about shitty house music techno Detroit ravers not too long ago, I remember that I had these and said "Wait, I like techno!" I then proceeded to throw on one of these records and my company said "This isn't techno, it's clicks-and-cuts." Well, forgive me for not knowing all of the subgenres of this particular subculture. So maybe it's just clicks and cuts that I like. It's certainly true that the majority of the rhythmic bursts on these 10 records would fall into a "click" or a "cut". The 'Anna' side in particular has a more resonant tone that comes in, like a pipe or bell, but with all of the reverb truncated. It's going to become incredibly difficult for me to describe these records so I'll just turn to the abstract: 'Anna' is a bit like trying to vacuum underneath a sofa, but not being quite able to get there. 'Beate' is two tracks that ramp up the momentum, doubling up on themselves to make me feel pretty nervous. The second one brings in an acoustic bass lick and for a moment the beats stop, and it's just an utterly stupid, cartoonish moment that kinda makes me laugh. Yes, humour abounds in the dryest form of minimal Euro electronica. I could fill this post with my explanation of why I like this and my feelings and interest in "minimalism" but I gotta save something for the next nine.