So begins Paul Mounsey’s first and most spectacular work, blending the stories and sounds of Scottish folk music with the rhythmic language of Mounsey’s adopted homeland of Brazil. Though at times it sounds dated, “Nahoo” is both thought-provoking and, at times, deeply arresting. Tracks like “Robert Campbell’s Lament” conjure up images of riots, police brutality, and of a world out of control–all without saying a word. Others, such as “As Terras Baixas da Holanda”, are almost comically cheerful, culminating in a wistful ending both unexpected and remarkably beautiful. Paul Mounsey has achieved an incredibly rich blend of humor, excitement, sadness and love using exceedingly simple instrumentation (drum machines, even!); yet despite its simplicity, the work conveys complex emotions far more effectively than one would expect. “Nahoo” work seems dedicated to those who have been pushed aside (by time, place, and culture), to those forgotten or being forgotten. Simultaneously honoring the Gaelic-speaking Scots (whose language is featured prominently) while remaining hopeful of the potential for cross-cultural polination, this album is truly in the grandest spirit of “world music”.
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It begins with a female voice intoning astronomical statistics.

It becomes one of the single greatest albums ever recorded.

It ends leaving you starving for more, desperate to replay, stunned by what has just transpired. It’s Enigma’s 4th album, and it’s as close to perfection as Michael Cretu, the sole writer/composer of Enigma, may ever get.

Carl Orff’s masterful opera “Carmina Burana”, and particularly the piece “O Fortuna”, forms the leitmotif of The Screen Behind the Mirror, sometimes blasting full-force like a Gothic cathedral being upended and thrust headfirst through your speakers; and sometimes retreating to a tiny whisper in the corner of your mind. Always, the drama and passion of that piece is reflected in the sounds it finds itself wrapped around. Opener “Push the Limits” has all the right elements in all the right places, and is a textbook example of what Worldbeat should be: sexy, sophisticated, danceable, and deliciously ethnic without ever feeling cheap. And then there is “Gravity of Love”, a soaring, stirring meditation on life and purpose: when “O Fortuna” filters through the intoxicating percussion, descending like a flight of Valkyries onto dusky desert, you’d swear Orff’s opera was meant for this alone.

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It’s no secret that I love the Mercury Program. Their 2004 album “A Data Learn the Language” brought a surprising intelligence to what could have just been droning repetition. Lush, beautifully-recorded orchestration, the use of vibes as a melodic center, and intensely geometric (there’s no better word) song structures all led to an atmosphere of unusually vivid texture. Sadly, there’s not much work by the band to be had, and I resigned myself to the expectation that perhaps they, like most bands I enjoy, had already come and gone before I found them.

Enter this 6-track, two-band EP. I’d never heard of Maserati before, but their contributions to this disc are both arresting and moving, forming a virtually flawless collection of tunes. Similarly, the Mercury Program seem to have enhanced their signature sound in this EP, bringing a richer and more sensitive dynamic to their playing. The vibes are not as harsh, the drums are not as predictable, the melodies are simultaneously more emotional and more intriguing, and above all, it’s new music from the Mercury Program! As a friend of mine would say, “when am I not ready to dance?”

In keeping with the grandiose post-rock tradition of titles that are either absurdly long or simply absurd, here we have the strange “Wires Were Towers”, “You Give Me Problems About My Business”, and “Closer Than You Know How”. The first of those is definitely the best track on the disc, and surprisingly, it’s by these new upstarts, Maserati. (You can bet I’ll be looking for their work in the future!) Adding a bass to their predecessors’ vibes-based lineup seems like an obvious choice, but the superb sonic detail it affords Maserati is something magnificent. The track positively envelops you with sound, in waves that seem to continually push, pull and swirl in unexpected ways. Steve Reich-inspired (but what isn’t?) melody lines drip with delay, coursing like electric veins beneath the humming subsonics of drums and bass; entire cities seem to rise from the ground and give way just as easily beneath the blurry, rain-slicked notes.

Here is a collection of soaring, spiralling movements that can take you away from your day-to-day life within moments; at times relaxing, at times almost furious, it’s a strangely lonely journey you’ll be happy to make again and again. However, I’m somewhat disappointed in the quality of the Mercury Program’s third track, “Crusading (Theme)”, due to its simplicity and comparative lack of anything very provocative. It’s also the shortest piece on the disc, at 4:45, and while it’s by no means a terrible track, it lacks the virtuosity usually found in their work (and on the rest of the EP). It’s quiet and relaxing, but offers little in the way of innovation.

With internet music stores now the norm, it makes sense to purchase an album like this a la carte, if possible. I highly recommend every track here besides “Crusading”, with a particular nod towards “Wires Were Towers”.

“Confines of Heat” runs 36 minutes.

It doesn’t look like this is on iTunes (another track by Maserati called “Towers Were Wires” is completely different…). Try eMusic - that’s where I got the EP.

My Rating: 8/10

The Junior Boys--masters at conjuring emotion and sensuality out of exceedingly sterile electronics---- have released their second full-lenth, “So This Is Goodbye”. Their prior work, “Last Exit”, possessed a haunting beauty despite its simplicity; here, too, amidst the beeps and blits of an NES-inspired afterlife, caught between Jeremy Greenspan’s chalky lyricism and the undeniable barrenness of the whole affair, there is something surprisingly sexy, something almost disturbingly human. It’s almost as if the decidedly retro technology reminds one of their own soulfulness.

This time around, the Boys have lost their “stutter effect”--originally pioneered by BT and brought to the masses by Timbaland--and moved on to more traditional, song-structured work. The vocal scales are more eerie and unsettling now-- singer Greenspan’s high(ish) voice is stark, often distressing, and unbelievably compelling. On “In the Morning”, his words are inflected with pop sensibility and injected between heavily-saturated analog leads, while “When No One Cares” could almost have been the darker, grittier candidate for a James Bond movie theme-- think Sinatra on downers.

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I’ll start with a guarantee.

There is no album, anywhere in the world, like this one.

It’s magic. Shpongle, the child of Raja Ram and Simon Posford, simply creates the most infectious and stimulating music of this era.

When “Dorset Perception” (oh, how clever) starts, you might wonder what it is you’re in for--seeing as the Latin guitar work quickly gives way to gorgeous synth arpeggios, flashes of chant, Vienna-in-1780 basslines, psychedelic sound effects, and an increasingly-pervasive feeling that this might, in fact, be the most bizarre and intriguing thing you’ve ever heard. While one could define it as “psytrance”, it is so multi-hued and undefinable that even the act of labeling it is a sign that you haven’t heard it. Shpongle is liberation in the form of sound.

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