Tim Hecker is the best-kept secret in the North American electronic underground. The Montreal native debuted last year as Jetone, releasing Ultramarin on the esteemed German imprint Force Inc. On that impressive record, Hecker put his unique stamp on minimal techno, creating nuanced tracks filled with depth and feeling in a genre that can seem clinical and emotionally remote. Ultramarin received a bit of notice, and then late last year, Hecker dropped the vastly different Haunt Me, Haunt Me, Do It Again under his own name on the Alien8 sub-label Substractif. Released almost six months ago at the time of this writing, Haunt Me made only the tiniest ripple in the electronic music press. A couple stingy hundred-word blurbs have been the extent of it.

But Hecker's pint-sized level of notoriety just ain't right, because Haunt Me is a hugely great album. Jettisoning the beats and club references of his work as Jetone, Haunt Me is a journey into abstract drones and cinematic atmosphere. The sound fits squarely with what's happening in the laptop scene-- Fennesz, Janek Schafer and Microstoria are all valid reference points-- but once again, Hecker's approach is distinct. While these tracks never comment on traditional song forms in the manner of Fennesz' Endless Summer, they project a similar level of accessibility. The thick, meandering drones that permeate the record are shot through with seams of noise and static, but the dissonant elements are never off-putting. Haunt Me is alien, amorphous and occasionally noisy, but always welcoming.

The photographs adorning the artwork of Haunt Me are of building roofs and telephone poles, but the pictures are framed in such a way that 95% of the image is sky. The sleeve design, oddly reminiscent of Modest Mouse's The Lonesome Crowded West (or, cover-wise, the Dismemberment Plan's Change), conveys an aspect of the music. Unlike the microscopic soundworld of someone like Jan Jelinek, Hecker's music seems designed for vast spaces, and the sound minutiae seems less important than the vibe of the whole. Keeping with the theme, Hecker's music, while celebrating open space, feels very isolated. Some tracks contain a melancholy edge that suggests loneliness; others hint at the healing power of solitary meditation. Either way, this is not an album for sharing-- you have to go it alone.

Haunt Me is laid out beautifully. Nine individually titled pieces are spread across twenty CD tracks, and the whole thing flows together as a long piece. Befitting the music, this is a record for one sustained session. "Music for Tundra" takes up the first three tracks on the record, setting the mood with rumbling undercurrents of bass, a continual upper-register buzz, and unsteady synth chords that cut in unpredictably. As it flows into "Arctic Lovers Rock," a highly-processed pop song is woven into the sheets of sound. Though the vocal treatment is more wistful than aggressive, the mood shifts drastically on "The Work of Art in the Age of Cultural Overproduction." This is where Hecker brings his harshest sounds, as deep bass throbs teeter on the edge of complete feedback and dense harmonics pack the high end.

"October" provides welcome relief, a peaceful amalgamation of synth drones that would sound great on a Kompakt Pop Ambient collection. The tension begins to return on "Ghost Writing," but this more reserved track, which combines gradually shifting sustained tones with the sounds of disembodied voices, could still work as background music. "A City in Flames" slowly builds in density, working with the same basic material, and the last several tracks wind down with spare, interweaving lines of drone that recall the first two albums by Stars of the Lid. Each listen is deeply satisfying. Haunt Me is not a shift in paradigm, but it does explore this particular sound with taste and invention, and I wouldn't hesitate to place it on the top tier of current abstract electronic music.

-Mark Richard-San, May 10th, 2002