In the mid-nineties, as radio returned to stagnation following Nirvana's co-option, there was one safe haven for creativity, where everything seemed possible: electronic music. Any number of then-monumental releases from Orbital, The Orb, Aphex Twin, Moby and Autechre solidified the genre. Future Sound of London-- early entries into the realm with 1991's Papua New Guinea single-- joined these ranks with two 1994 releases: Lifeforms and ISDN. Lifeforms is a two-disc set that proudly (read: sticker on the cover) features contributions from the Cocteau Twins' Elizabeth Fraser and legendary experimental musician Robert Fripp, who decades earlier led the prog-rock dynamo known as King Crimson. The album, as its obvious title suggests, heaped organic sounds on ambient keyboard lines; the effects were canned, and what's worse than its sterile science-fiction movie veneer is the new age rendition of Pachelbel's "Canon in D".

And lest we overlook ISDN, there are few ironies in music history as brutal as FSOL naming their record after a telecommunication medium considered all but obsolete by the time it debuted. At the time of ISDN, the Future Sound of London's selling point was experimentation-- the album was recorded entirely via ISDN transmissions-- and they continued to press that angle on their last release, 1996's Dead Cities, a blown-tweeter and squelch screamer still charting with any number of music critics.

Given their status (with fans) as legendary proprietors sadly lost, one would expect FSOL to attempt some kind of explosive reclamation, a rebirth and reentry into the modern electronic landscape. Artists so rooted in abstraction and experimentation can always be counted on for original ideas if nothing else-- just look at Sonic Youth. Instead, FSOL have forgone more than a decade of established work to play with sounds already digested by the rest of us. Alternately copping moves off Spiritualized, Fridge and most significantly, Pink Floyd (the last track on the record-- overtly named "Goodbye Sky"-- is a tribute to The Wall, featuring classic Floyd guitar solos, 'mad' laughter and a British telephone ring fading into helicopter blades), the Future Sound of London are either hoping you can't remember them, or don't care if you do.

It's jaw-dropping, certainly, and what's more, it actually works. There's no way anyone familiar with FSOL could be bothered to compare or contrast previous work with this lush, well-orchestrated tidal wave. The problem therein, at least critically speaking, is that every band on the planet is releasing lush, well-orchestrated tidal waves. But I got to thinking: how many of them use banjo as a lead instrument (as on "Meadows", one of many instrumentals on The Isness)? Now consider how many of those could make it sound so natural that you barely notice.

The psychotic opening instrumental "Elysian Feels", for its somewhat embarrassing title, lays out the expansive territory FSOL looks to tackle on The Isness; classic Iron Butterfly organ lines blend seamlessly with glitches, guitar solos, horns, and Rephlex-style keyboard lines. Sadly, this breathtaking preamble is derailed by the staid trip-hop of track two, "The Mello Hippo Disco Show", and a brief Spiritualized impression (a reprise to the closing "Goodbye Sky"). After another good-but-not-great survey-- this time of Stereolab-- the record kicks decidedly into gear. A straight late-60s piece of nostalgia, "Go Tell It to the Trees, Egghead" (did I complain about song titles earlier?) introduces the second, and infinitely better half of The Isness with a quietly complicated, acoustic instrumental.

Arriving midway through the record is the 7½-minute "Divinity", a startling update of Final Cut-era Floyd. The recent Brit-pop sounds of Travis, the classic Dream Academy chants (a band produced by Pink Floyd's David Gilmour), and the chaotic work of the elder statesman The Bevis Frond collide with transcendent results. Plucked and drawn strings, sitar and flugelhorn (no joke) accent a ballad easily on par with its inspirations.

A psychedelic rock record this pure has been sorely missing with all the referential releases in recent years; with Oasis' fatuous albums making pure-60s psychedelia passé, and the Doves, Coldplay, et al turning big sound into pop melodrama, it's astounding that FSOL, of all bands, could come up with such a solid, heartfelt entry into the genre. I'm still working on it myself, really. One word of advice: don't leave this record playing when you go to sleep-- there's an absolutely evil Floyd finale waiting for you in your dreams.

-Chris Ott, September 16th, 2002