µ-Ziq
Tango n' Vectif
[Rephlex; 1993; r:2001]
Rating: 9.4
In 1993, before the IDM phenomenon had drawn enough recognition to merit so much
as a name, David Toop penned an exposé for The Times on the surge of
Britain's up-and-coming "bedroom composers." The photographs that ran with the
article showed a slight young man with a prominent Adam's apple, gym-teacher
glasses and a gnarled ponytail, and the pubescent shadow of a moustache spreading
over his upper lip. Dressed plainly in a sweatshirt sporting the name of his
former band, he tapped at the ivories of his Casio FZ-1 keyboard amid the clutter
of his mother's house. Some laughed when Toop said the future of music rested
in this man's spindly, awkward hands. But Mike Paradinas, for it was he, laughed
last.
In the eight years since that article ran, Paradinas has emerged as one of the
most influential magnates of the avant-electronic scene. He's now a married
father of one, living in his own home and managing a first-rate record label
that he started from scratch. The moustache is gone, along with the ponytail
(sold for roughly $80 on eBay)-- and with them, any question of whether Mike
lived up to Mr. Toop's monumental charge. Operating under a total of seven
pseudonyms (omitting collaborations), Paradinas has guided the growth of
electronic music with genius and grace. And few works showcase his talent more
ably than 1993's Tango n' Vectif.
Paradinas' second release, after an impossibly rare 12" issued under the Diesel
M moniker, Tango paints in sweeping, creative strokes, unrestrained by
the genre-based trappings that often limit contemporary IDM. A few weeks ago,
Richard D. James' Rephlex label reissued this gem, compiling several unreleased
tracks with material from the original CD and vinyl releases, as well as the
long-lost "PHI*1700" single. At two discs and 26 songs, this reissue retails at
most online vendors for a few dollars less than the 13-track U.S. original. Nice.
Most of the material on Tango n' Vectif was composed well before its
release, and in places, the album betrays its age. The granular fidelity sounds
unrefined, and straightforward instrumental arrangements like those of the
"Phragmal Synthesis" suite have long since fallen out of favor with the
"intelligent" crowd. But nitpicking aside, Tango is by all measures a
truly staggering album.
Consider that in 1993, Autechre released Incunabula, James issued
Surfing on Sine Waves, the Joyrex 12-inches, and Analogue Bubblebath
3, and Beaumont Hannant drew critical acclaim for his Tastes and Textures
series. Against Tango n' Vectif, even such notably progressive albums
sound dated and one-dimensional. And in today's climate of vain experimentation,
scrupulous precision and perfect sound, µ-Ziq's debut, in all its raw glory,
continues to hold its own. It's hard to believe that a gangly young recluse
with no musical training could imagine such bold, poignant textures from the
confines of a bedroom.
The self-titled opening track wastes no time in showing you where the album
stands. A yawning bassline creeps out from the song's recesses, fastened down
by punishing drums and jagged metallic clangs. Paradinas tempers the song's
stark ambiance with simple, playful melodies, lending an emotive irony to the
piece that is uniquely µ-Ziq.
"Swan Vesta," a long-time resident of my pantheon of perfect songs, eludes
comparison. This song overwhelms the listener with its stylistic and emotional
versatility-- the violent swaths of blistering snares, the melancholy strings,
the idiosyncratic bleeps, the plaintive mechanical cries, the funky tribal
interludes and the haunting clarity of the central eight-note refrain. The
result is as ambiguous and intangible as it is blissful-- a liminal listening
experience that not only makes you dance or think or cry, but compels you to
do all of that at once.
It's a hard act to follow, but Mike does his best. "Iesope" is a tranquil
melodic number whose resonant cave-dubbed samples culminate in a powerfully
understated three-note resolution. "µ-Ziq Theme," one of several songs from
Tango that involved the cooperation of Frank Naughton (he left the
project to focus on schoolwork, but has since released a handful of solo songs
on Spymania), brings the beat back amid a swirling arpeggio and a lush bed of
mournful strings.
"Ad Misericordiam," previously available only on the vinyl issue of Tango,
opens with the drone of gothic synth pads, then slowly phases in jangling
percussion and squelchy electro melodies. The pace of the record flags with
songs like "Whale Soup" and "Die Zweite Heimat," but these disappointments
comprise a clear exception to an otherwise consistently strong album.
Paradinas mines a different vein with "Xolbe 2," a subdued, rhythmic piece bathed
in layers of tinny static. The new additions ("Driving Is Easy," "Methyl Albion"
and "Glink") also go down well, though only "Glink" parallels the standard set by
the original album. Even so, I have a hard time finding fault with their
inclusion on the reissue-- all three songs offer something of value and, thanks
to the absurd politics of the record industry, they won't run buyers any extra
flow.
Eight years ago, Tango n' Vectif offered to change the code of modern
electronica. Until recently, its plea fell on deaf American ears. Now we've
entered the 21st century, and in some respects, we're still catching up with
what Mike Paradinas did in 1993-- perhaps the finest period of his career. You
can call this record groundbreaking, or relevant, or just a real riot to listen
to. I call it a masterpiece, and I don't think any IDM enthusiast can tell the
sky from the ground without it.
-Malcolm Seymour III, November 9th, 2001