Stuart McMillan and Orde Miekle are techno's equivalent of a Revolutionary War reenactment society. But rather than dress up like patriotic Mel Gibsons and careen about the fields of former colonies, Slam recreate Detroit circa 1988, when Derrick May was formulating the techno Arcanum. Slam adore Derrick May. Every pimple, every skin tag, every unsavory itch they possess professes a cosmic appreciation for May's "Strings of Life," "Nude Photo," and "The Beginning." And why not? They are the preeminent examples of techno soul.

Slam's second full-length, Alien Radio, continues the homage McMillan and Miekle began in 1994. In 1995, the two released Positive Education which didn't exactly steer clear of May emulation, but at least added some filthy analog action to May's chrome sheen. By 1996, Slam had got round to releasing their debut album, Headstates, on which they drizzled some fairly basic electro sugar, again distancing themselves from being tagged mere pseud copyists.

We can explain McMillan and Miekle's intermittent releases by remembering that they set up the highly influential Soma label, thereby giving proto-tech-house a home. Slam's DJ sets at the Arches in Glasgow gave the yet-to-be-formalized genre a venue. It's impossible to underestimate their influence at the Arches. Their determination and confidence, coupled with Glasgow's embracing of danceable techno, led Chicago gurus such as DJ Sneak and Gene Farris to spin there. They were utterly energized by Glasgow's willingness to be dazzled. Slam wouldn't have pulled off their clubland coup if they'd trotted down to the capital to get their exposure and lucrative rewards. London crowds, like those in New York, are aloof tossers and far harder to win over-- it's easier to get a nun to wear a see-through thong than to persuade these folks to have some fucking fun.

Fortunately, Slam's relationship with their audience wasn't just one way. The tunes that they, Sneak, and Farris spun influenced Glasgow natives such as One Dove, Silicone Soul and DJ Q. Tunes by those artists are now permanent residents in the boxes of masters such as Derrick Carter. Soma and Slam have been very beneficial for techno and house music.

Despite their keeping a candle lit for techno and house as the rest of clubland went delirious over cacky trance, McMillan and Miekle are far from familiar names. If they'd been London-centric media skanks, they'd have wiped the floor with the pock-marked hides of Paul Oakenfold, Pete Tong, and Fatboy Slim. But McMillan and Miekle made a conscious and somewhat sacrificial decision to keep their distance from the glossy sheets of PR land. And, by maintaining their residency at the Arches, they've remained in touch with the clubbers who adore them. Integrity in the music industry is rarer than a straight guy in an International Male shirt, and McMillan and Miekle remained respected by their globetrotting bandwagon-jumping peers.

As you'd expect, then, Alien Radio is not two-step. It's not even trance. Just like Headstates, Alien Radio is unapologetically another techno album that Derrick May never got around to creating. Beginning as expected with a beatless ambient swoosh entitled "This Is," Slam send us back to a time and place before time-stretching, glitch, and EQ-fading roamed the tundras of clubland. "Lifetimes," featuring former Felix da Housecat vocalist Tyrone Palmer, is a perfect example of this lost world. Palmer's serene vocals skim off an undulating, grinding surface of analog bass, punctured by TR-909 kick drums and synthetic claps. The title track, a menacing Model 500 sound-alike, makes a single concession to post-1989-house by incorporating the clanks that speed garage pioneers Double 99 used to anchor their "RIP Groove."

With the grime of the single version scrubbed off, the album version of "Narco Tourists," Slam's collaboration with Mo'Wax vanity project UNKLE, fits comfortably onto Alien Radio. Some trace of the big-beat percussion remains, but Slam keep it 'Troit with understated "French Kiss"-style stabs. Dot Allison lends her lungs to "Visions," as right she should, as her former outfit, One Dove, were one of the many bands that McMillan and Miekle gave a break to. While never reaching the bliss of "Fallen" (the One Dove track most closely associated with Slam), ecstasy's own Astrud Gilberto affords this brooding number a typical bliss.

Palmer's second appearance continues the visual conceit. Though "Eyes of Your Soul" is as profound an inquiry into ensoulment as a twelve-pound sack of spuds, Slam's delicate tribute to DJ Pierre's and Felix da Housecat's robo-dervish Wild Pitch more than compensates for its lyrical doggerel.

But however charitable I can be towards this album's lyrics, I am vehemently opposed to the inclusion of "Positive Education," Slam's breakthrough single. Predating Headstates, "Positive Education" has appeared on enough compilations and remix EPs (most recently remixed by Josh Wink and Carl Cox) that even the tribes of innermost Papua New Guinea have probably grabbed a copy by now. Including it on Alien Radio is unjustifiable padding. Nonetheless, I forgive them, because they close Alien Radio with the aptly titled "Virtuoso." "Virtuoso" is a tour-de-force and blatant reworking of Derrick May's "Strings of Life." But Slam are modest enough to recognize that May is the commander, and they're mere space cadets. Thus, they devotedly conclude the album with a genuflecting tribute to the master of techno and the most sublime realization of techno soul.

As well as refusing to aspire to membership-of-clubland's bling-bling corps, McMillan and Miekle deserve our respect for nurturing other people's talent at the risk of appearing work-shy and scarce. Though Alien Radio would have sounded relevant and not-like-nostalgia ten years ago, it has an illustrious pedigree that will ensure that we'll be tuning in to it for many years to come.

-Paul Cooper