In 1981, Philip K. Dick published what is arguably his most demented, paranoid and self-referential slipstream novel, Valis. What meager plot the book contained concerned Vast Active Living Intelligence System (VALIS), which, in short, attempted to explain what every religion and creed known to humanity is really on about. Valis was Dick's search for discernable reality, if such a thing exists, through the Tractates Cryptica Scriptura, a system of precepts that Dick's alter-ego Horselover Fat had constructed. Given that Horselover Fat was the English translation of Dick's name, Valis was a dialog between segments of his mind, which had been driven ever more to fracture since Richard Nixon's resignation in 1974. The message of Valis seemed to be that the only coping mechanism for a bonkers world is to go mad yourself.

But Christian Kleine offers a second solution-- one that actually might offer temporary respite. Kleine's Valis will definitely not answer any nagging theological doubts you have, nor supply you with a first-class ticket to paradise, but these six indie-inflected chill-out tracks are soothing enough to release you from your woes.

Kleine's music is based on the principle that simple things can become complex when aggregated. For instance, the bassline of the opening track, "Boon," is the bassline from the Cure's "The Forest" but played by a simpleton. This otherwise inept bassline deftly props up all manner of chiming Cocteau Twin-ish guitar sounds and digital atmospherics that everyone has been familiar since Warp's Artificial Intelligence days. Kleine adds a minimal hip-hop rhythm for the chillheads to bob along to, and lets his concoction roll out. "H:Y" sounds like a dubbed-out b-boy instrumental as performed by those austere manipulators of sound, Appliance. Oddly, "Red Norvo" contains no detectable vibraphone, as one would expect a track named after one of the foremost players of that instrument. Yes, Kleine's "Red Norvo" has plenty of chimy rings to it, but whereas your typical IDM track achieves the effect with synthtones, Kleine appears to be using an electric guitar.

"Accent" is an altogether tougher beast-- the beats are spiked brass knuckle-dusters and their patterns are almost as furious as Norwegian junglist DJ TeeBee's. But to maintain at least the sense of chill, Kleine swamps these angry beasts in tranquil ambient pads and a nervous melody that skitters through them seeking resolution. "Unauthorized" finds Kleine at his most fractured. Here, the militant beats win out over the ambient pads-- they're still present, just buried under the thrall of beat-down percussion.

"Several" is something like a fusion of Papa M, Carsten Nicolai, and the highbrow applied jungle of Elliot Sharp. But however unsettling that sounds, Kleine tames these competing elements to produce a gentle compromise. This compromise is the key to understanding Kleine's version of Valis. Kleine juxtaposes antithetical elements and challenges himself to seek a resolution to the contrast, just as Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth used massive blocks of stone to express the form of voids. If the solution to any problem is to be judged by both its efficiency and its beauty, Kleine's version of Valis far outranks Dick's. But if I were you, I'd hold out for the much more daring Our Noise, Kleine's collaboration with Morr Music labelmate Thaddeus Herrmann-- it's far less beholden to Ulrich Schnauss' Far Away Trains Passing By and elevates both Kleine and Herrmann to the top of the premier league.

-Paul Cooper, April 3rd, 2002