This is part two of a two-part series. Check out part one.

Autechre — Move of Ten

Autechre’s second release of the year is officially an EP, but is just as long as its companion album Oversteps. In the case of the second half of this EP, you can certainly hear that these tracks are different versions of tracks from Oversteps, continuing the ‘versions’ concept of their previous album, Quaristice.

However, the vibe of Move of Ten is quite different to that of Oversteps. Move of Ten is more beats-oriented. It’s glitchier, and it’s funkier. And, as you would expect from Autechre, it is all brilliant.

Babe Rainbow — Shaved

I have a bit of a hot and cold relationship with dubstep. It always seems like it’s on the cusp of being brilliant, but actual brilliance is thin on the ground. Latterly, a lot of it has sounded highly derivative.

But Babe Rainbow caught my attention. Maybe it’s because he’s on Warp, a label that had seemed to have given up on pathfinding electronic music. But this is exciting. In fact, it reminded me of when I was first discovering Warp and artists like Brothomstates. For my money, Babe Rainbow is the most exciting new Warp artist since Battles.

In that sense, I am surprised that Babe Rainbow hasn’t been getting more attention. Or maybe it just goes to demonstrate why Warp have given up on new electronic artists.

Caribou — Swim

Dan Snaith’s latest is poppier and more immediate than previous albums. It’s a bit of a foot tapper. Things have been stepped up a gear.

But none of the experimental or psychedelic edge of Caribou’s previous albums has been lost. As such, Swim is as good for your head as it is for your feet. Which is exactly how it should be.

VHS Head — Trademark Ribbons of Gold

Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. It is so exciting to hear music this strong from a new artist. And it’s especially great to see it coming out on Skam Records, a label that has been largely dormant for the past five years.

Spliced together from samples taken from old VHS videotapes, Trademark Ribbons of Gold mixes the dark nostalgia of hauntology with the futuristic vision of IDM. Part Mordant Music, part Boards of Canada and part Jackson and His Computer Band — but also unlike anything that has ever come before.

This album is absolutely massive, and with the possible exception of Autechre’s releases, the standout of the year.

Jaga Jazzist — One-Armed Bandit

This is Jaga Jazzist’s first album in five years. Releases are few and far between. Apparently being a ten-piece makes it difficult for them to churn them out, though at least it’s alway an event when it does arrive.

I have to be honest. This isn’t my favourite Jaga Jazzist album. But it is still much better than most other stuff going. The band’s tip-top mix of jazz, prog and electronics is almost tailor-made for my ears.

The highlight of the album is undoubtedly Toccata, which builds and builds — no doubt with a bit of inspiration from Steve Reich and Philip Glass.

Well we now have the answer, thanks to this video I found the other day. It demonstrates how you should dance to the IDM smash hit Cfern by Autechre.

I will be trying it in my bedroom tonight!

This is the truly unique Oramics machine, designed by electronic music pioneer Daphne Oram. It will go on display at the Science Museum later this year. There was a great report on Friday’s PM programme about it.

Daphne Oram was a founding member of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop in 1958. There are many people that are called pioneers of electronic music. But Daphne Oram is surely one person that genuinely fits the bill.

Delia Derbyshire has a mass following for her work with the Radiophonic Workshop, and rightly so. But Daphne Oram, “the unsung pioneer of techno”, deserves just as much of a following.

The sounds that were made by Oram over 50 years ago — and the methods of making them — are almost unfathomable. The Oramics machine worked using “drawn sound”. The composer would feed a piece of music drawn on graph paper into the machine, which would then convert it into its signature otherworldly, haunting sounds. Daphne Oram thought of herself as “a ‘painter’ in sound”.

A couple of years ago a 2CD set of Daphne Oram’s work, called Oramics, was released. If you are interested in electronic music, I would strongly recommend you check it out.

Update: There is now an article about Daphne Oram on the BBC News website, complete with video and the full original radio report.

As any fule kno, I am massively fanatical about Autechre. All of their EPs from 1991 to 2002 are being reissued in a slick looking boxset format. In all, 11 EPs are being condensed into a resource-friendly five CDs.

I already own all of these EPs, with the exception of Cavity Job, which has never before had a CD release. So I can’t really justify spending the £30 on this box set for the sake of two new tracks.

But I think this would be an ideal purchase for any Autechre fans with more significant gaps in their collection of EPs. Apparently most of them have been out of print for a while now.

I have never been so disappointed to already own all these Autechre CDs!

Here is Gantz Graf, which is from the last of the EPs featured in this box set. I consider it to be among the finest four minutes of music I know of.

Discovering the music of Broadcast was an important step in the development of my taste in music. It remains one of my favourite bands. Trish Keenan’s singing mesmerised me. Broadcast’s retro-futuristic style appealed to my then-developing interest in experimental music.

Few people can have played a larger role in the development of the genre known as hauntology, the most interesting sound in electronic music today. Broadcast returned the favour with recent collaborations with the Ghost Box record label, the primary purveyors of the genre.

Broadcast’s recent mini-album and single made with The Focus Group marked an exciting change in direction. I was eagerly looking forward to the band’s anticipated new material.

This is Echo’s Answer, from The Noise Made by People — the album that began my explorations in experimentation.

• Blog post about Trish Keenan by Jim Jupp
• Promo video for Come On Let’s Go
• Promo video for I See, So I See So by Broadcast and The Focus Group
• Live performance of Winter Now
• Live performance of Illumination

It sounded suspiciously like Gorillaz on the cheap, complete with odd psuedo-humorous band member names. A low-budget Gorillaz would necessarily be a bad thing. But it seemed like an odd move for Squarepusher to make. And the music, while clearly the sound of Squarepusher, was shockingly immediate and borderline cheesy.

The one or two tracks that had been released as teasers for the album seemed good. But would a whole album that sounds like a proggy Daft Punk be bearable?

Amazingly, yes. I have immensely enjoyed listening to this album.

In a way, it is a logical next step for Squarepusher to take. Squarepusher has been pushing on with the fantasy-prog sound since his 2004 album, Ultravisitor. This album created a novel half-live, half-studio atmosphere. The follow-up, Hello Everything, dispensed with the live elements, but placed more emphasis on the multi-instrumental talents and a further step towards a futuro-prog sound.

Then came Just A Souvenir, introducing Squarepusher’s fantasy band concept. It was as much about the stories of what this incredible futuristic band could do on stage as about the music.

Shobaleader One and d’Demonstrator appear to take the fantasy band concept and turn it into reality. Squarepusher is promising more Shobaleader One material, and live shows too. Despite my initial doubts, I’m looking forward to seeing what is coming next in the incredible development of Squarepusher’s sound.

In 2001, when I was discovering my interest in experimental music, I was advised by someone on a messageboard to listen to the Radio 3 programme Mixing It, which Robert Sandall co-presented with Mark Russell. As the title of the programme suggests, it was a genuinely eclectic affair. It showcased all manner of new (and sometimes old) music without discrimination. That’s not to say they weren’t critical — the programme’s catchphrase became “where’s the skill in that?”

I was hooked to the programme during my teenage years. When it was broadcast late on Sunday nights, it helped take my mind off the fact that I had school in the morning. When it moved to Friday nights, I was unusual among my peers. While most were developing their social lives, I was listening to Radio 3. Robert Sandall was my John Peel.

Nothing has shaped my taste in music more than Mixing It. The programme demonstrated how to approach all types of music with a genuinely open mind, no matter how outlandish or unpromising the premise of the piece may seem. The message was: you never know, you might like it — and if you didn’t like it, at least it was interesting to listen to.

In 2007, Mixing It was axed by Radio 3 having been broadcast since 1990. The word I read time and again about this decision is ‘criminal’. Mixing It was a genuinely unique programme. It was just the sort of thing you think the BBC ought to excel at. But it was disposed of — with little in the way of justification — leaving the programme’s fans angry.

Soon after Radio 3 stopped broadcasting the programme, it was resurrected as Where’s the Skill in That? on Resonance. Sadly these broadcasts were more sporadic, and I missed many of these editions as a result.

Since Mixing It ended, I have not seen the point of listening to much in the way of music radio programmes. Nothing offers the combination of eclecticism, inquisitiveness and humour that Mixing It brought. I am sad that Mixing It is not on the airwaves today, and I am sorry that we won’t hear Robert Sandall broadcast again.

• Robert Sandall obituary in the Telegraph

Autechre may be perceived as being wilfully difficult. Maybe they are. Almost without fail, the first time you listen to new Autechre material it is impossible to get your head around. It sounds like a mess.

But the music always reveals its majesty after repeat listens. It is the aural equivalent of a magic eye puzzle, only less naff and much more stylish.

‘Intelligent dance music’, the genre of music most often associated with Autechre, has fallen off a cliff for me in recent years. It just isn’t exciting to me in the way it was five or ten years ago.

Sure, there are a few big names that you can depend upon. Those are the Aphex Twins and Boards of Canadas of this world — although releases from these artists become less and less frequent. Once you start searching for new acts beyond them, the quality drops steeply. Most ‘IDM’ these days is disappointingly derivative.

But Autechre still always push the boundaries far beyond what anyone else can even think of. It says a lot when even Autechre’s off albums are still more fascinating than the music of their peers.

Listening to Autechre’s back catalogue is like hearing a pair of audio explorers in search of the pinnacle of electronic music. 2001′s Confield was the culmination of the search. My jaw still drops when I listen to it, and it disappoints me that no-one — not even Autechre — have come remotely close to creating another album as good as this.

2003′s Draft 7.30 was a fine follow-up. But since then new Autechre material has felt like a step below what is possible — even though it was still miles ahead of the rest.

Oversteps

Following the slightly clunky and plodding Untilted, and the sketchy and uncohesive Quaristice, their new album Oversteps marks a return to form for Autechre in my book. In both previous albums, it seemed like Autechre were operating within their comfort zone. Quaristice especially sounded like it was churned out without much thought, turning to styles they had explored in previous albums.

In a reversal of the trend, Oversteps brings us an Autechre we haven’t heard before. Their ability to push things forward like this is what I always admired most about Autechre, which is why for my money their new album is their best since Draft 7.30. (I gather the reaction of many Autechre fans has been more negative, which I think is a shame.)

Autechre have probably not been this melody-focussed since 1994′s Amber. But this does not mean that they have sacrificed any of their uncompromising approach — quite the opposite in fact.

As you would expect, this is music unlike anything you have heard before. It is dense and viscous-sounding, yet also shimmering and liquid. Somehow it all feels right, as though this was the way music was always meant to be.

After just a few weeks of listening to Oversteps, it feels like I have been listening to music like this for years, even though it is totally unique. Much of the album has a pleasingly organic vibe to it, ‘krYlon’ perhaps being the best example.

For me, ‘ilanders’ is as catchy as music gets, even though the beats are particularly unconventional. Another highlight is ‘known(1)’, which is deceptively — perhaps irritatingly — simple at first, before transforming into one of the most mind-bending pieces of the album. In that sense, this is the ‘Surripere’ or ‘Fermium’ of the album.

It’s not all about the melodies though. My favourite part of the album is probably the rip-roaring ‘d-sho qub‘, reminding us that Autechre are making (what might be loosely described as) dance music.

Move of Ten

The accompanying EP, Move of Ten is released today. Although it was common in the 1990s for Autechre to release an EP related to each of their albums, that trend had stopped. With Quaristice, they released new ‘versions’ of the album’s tracks. It was a nice idea, almost like a “making of” the album, although by the time the last ones came out it was starting to sound quite repetitive.

Move of Ten sees a refinement of the concept. It reminds me of the 1990s approach where Autechre would remix their own tracks, but with originals being almost unrecognisable. But the relationship with the original tracks is much clearer in many of these tracks — closer to the Quaristice Versions / Quaristice.Quadrange.ep.ae model.

As you might expect, Move of Ten shows us Autechre with their hair down a bit, relative to the ‘serious’ work of an album. Some of the tracks here are very immediate. Autechre have brought the funk, and you can clearly hear the duo’s roots as hip-hop aficionados.

The best example of this is ‘rew(1)’. This track teases you, hinting at an immensely funky basis. But like many of Autechre’s best music, it never fully reveals its full powers, leaving the listeners to fill in the gaps to their own delight.

Move of Ten mixes the best of Autechre’s always-forward-looking approach with nostalgic reminisces of vintage Autechre. ‘nth Dafuseder.b’ in particular sends a chill up my spine as it begins sounding like a lost Autechre recording of 15 years ago. But it brings with it also a jazz vibe with a cold wind blowing through it like the best work of Brothomstates.

I gather that Move of Ten has gone down better than Oversteps among fans in general. For me, it feels more like an EP than an album. It just lacks that extra bit of cohesion that an album should have. But with both releases, Autechre have demonstrated that they are still at the height of their powers, and at the absolute pinnacle of path-finding electronic music.

I just wish that others could step up to the plate and make music as good as this. If not, I hope Autechre are documenting their approaches so that this wonderful approach is never lost.

The Designers Republic back from the dead

The excellent artwork for Oversteps and Move of Ten was designed by The Designers Republic. This marks the rebirth of the firm, which closed down in early 2009. Just another reason why Autechre’s material this year has been great!

The original was described by some as the anti-iPod. It looks like the sort of iPod knock-off that you might get free in a cereal packet. Instead of loading it with several gigabytes of your favourite music, the Buddha Machine comes pre-packaged with nine low-fi loops, which vaguely emanate from the fuzzy in-built speaker.

And it’s marvellous. The Buddha Machine may look cheap and tacky, and the sound quality certainly is not great, but this all adds to the quaint and charming nature of the device.

It became a cult object. Brian Eno is said to have been so entranced that he bought eight of them on the spot. It was treated by some as a musical instrument in its own right. Artists created remix albums inspired by the Buddha Machine. It even spawned a bizarre game, Buddha Boxing. Any resemblance to World Championship Stare-out is purely coincidental.

The second version of the Buddha Machine brought new loops, and the addition of a pitch-bending function, adding an extra dimension to the curious box of sounds. But it still retained its charm.

Now the idea has been developed further with Gristleism. It is a new variant on the Buddha Machine concept developed by the revered experimental group Throbbing Gristle.

As you can see from the demonstration video, Throbbing Gristle’s take on the Buddha Machine is rather more brutal than FM3′s more relaxing version. And while the originals come in unassuming, antiquated, almost second-hand packaging, Gristleism has a very slick, modern and extravagant style to its packaging.

Gristleism is an altogether different product. But it chimes with the same ideas about what it means to buy music in a physical format in these days of digital downloads. Record companies are increasingly seeking to make the physical editions of albums more appealing by making the package more of the product. The stylish packaging of Gristleism asks questions about music, just as the original Buddha Machines did.

Musically, Gristelism fulfils a completely different role. The originals, with the music composed by FM3, were more ambient in nature. They could sit happily in the corner, quietly emitting unobtrusive drones.

But as you would expect with Throbbing Gristle, things are a bit more madcap here. I have to admit that when I first started playing with this, I couldn’t stop grinning. I had to interact with the music. You can really utilise that pitch altering knob to great effect.

If the reports that the BBC will close down 6 Music are true, it is a great shame. Of course, this could be seen coming. The BBC has been utterly weak in almost every respect for the past few years, and it is difficult to escape the notion that it is too big, with too many outlets. Of course, when effectively forced to cut back, it will opt to close down the high quality products, rather than those that are merely popular.

6 Music is the only mainstream radio station where you can regularly hear genuinely experimental and alternative music on a regular basis. It is the only station that confounds expectations and delights in challenging the listener.

The Freak Zone is a jewel in 6 Music’s crown, dedicated to playing esoteric music from today and undiscovered gems from the past. For sure, it is a challenging listen at times — but that is the very point.

Similarly, Jarvis Cocker’s Sunday Service is truly unique. One of the most eclectic playlists I have ever heard is mixed with ponderings on, for instance, the sad beauty of abandoned Christmas trees.

I have effused before about Adam and Joe, which I think was genuinely the best programme on radio. These are just three of the must-listen radio programmes that 6 Music has brought us.

6 Music should have broadened its horizons

There is simply no commercial alternative. In short, it is precisely the sort of thing that the BBC should be doing.

In fact, I have in the past been critical of 6 Music for not being adventurous enough in the past. The BBC does, after all, already have three other major music radio stations, each of which is dedicated to playing different strands of mainstream music. There is, of course, nothing wrong with that. But this should have provided 6 Music with the opportunity to explore the outer reaches of music more freely.

Instead, 6 Music has ended up being slightly unsure of its role. It has come to attain a dual identity. One is that of a genuinely exploratory musical agenda, for discerning listeners who are passionate about the music they already love, and are itching to discover new music.

The other is that of a mere weakened popular music station with a vague indie bent. This aspect made it like a transition station for listeners who have moved on from Radio 1 but can’t yet bring themselves to listen to Radio 2. Hence the travesty of George Lamb. There are plenty of commercial alternatives for these people to turn to. This is an audience that doesn’t need to be catered for by the BBC.

Instead of trying to gain listeners with gimmicky attempts to cater for the masses, 6 Music should have set its sights higher by increasing its quality. It could be transformed into a station that is genuinely dedicated to music that you won’t find on other radio stations.

And there is no need to stop at music. It could encompass culture as a whole. Why shouldn’t such a station also champion alternative comedy, experimental drama and the like? It could be like a well funded version of Resonance FM.

Instead, the BBC appears to have taken the coward’s option. Instead of setting its sights towards enhancing the station so that it becomes a great hub for alternative and experimental culture, it has weakly chosen to throw in the towel. Instead of realising the potential of 6 Music and promoting it properly, the BBC has left it in a corner to gather cobwebs and eventually die.

The BBC’s disregard for experimental culture

This would be palatable if it weren’t for the fact that experimental music has been increasingly marginalised on the BBC’s other radio stations over the past decade as well. As if the passing of John Peel wasn’t enough of a blow to adventurous music on the BBC, the corporation appears to be determined to dismantle every last piece of its experimental music programming.

A decade ago Radio 1′s evening schedule was brimming with experimental music. But the station’s few remaining programmes dedicated to experimental music have all been shunted to shorter, graveyard time slots. To take just one example, Rob da Bank’s programme is on at the truly insulting 5-7am on a Saturday. Meanwhile, Mary Anne Hobbs’s Breezeblock is on at 2-4am on Thursday morning.

New experimental music has all but disappeared from Radio 3 as well. Since Mixing It was removed from the schedules, all that has remained is Late Junction, which has itself been marginalised in recent years.

In short, the BBC is doing less of the sort of programming it should be making, and replacing it with the sort of thing that ought to be left to its commercial rivals.

Absolute to the rescue?

The Times suggested that Absolute Radio may be interested in buying 6 Music should the BBC decide to close it down. It seems to me as though Clive Dickens was merely making a point about the inefficient way the BBC has run 6 Music.

But the idea that Absolute might acquire 6 Music and keep it alive is an interesting prospect. I have find myself being increasingly impressed with Absolute. I am sure that it has taken inspiration from 6 Music as it tries to re-build itself without the Virgin brand behind it.

Like 6 Music, Absolute thinks of itself as a home for good music (although in practice it just trots out middle-of-the-road dad rock). It mixes this with the use of comedians like Dave Gorman, Frank Skinner and Iain Lee as presenters.

This is the exact model that 6 Music has used throughout its existence. The station was launched by Phill Jupitus, who presented the 6 Music breakfast show for several years. Since then, 6 Music has been home to several comedians.

I find it doubtful that a radio station like 6 Music would flourish as a commercial operation. But if anyone can pull it off, it is Absolute. It would be fabulous.

The BBC has failed to convincingly promote digital radio. The lack of publicity is the real reason why 6 Music has so few listeners. Fewer than 10% of Radio 1 listeners are listening on a digital platform. When 6 Music is only available on digital platforms, it is no wonder it appears to perform so poorly. Only one in five people in the UK have even heard of the station. Hence Adam Buxton’s joke that it is “the secret station”.

Yet, over 54% of Absolute Radio’s listeners (approximately 31 minutes in) outside of London now listen on digital. The BBC, with all its supposed marketing might, has failed to generate anything like this sort of result, despite having shedloads of cash dedicated to the exercise.

The BBC is now weak and ineffective. It has failed digital radio, and it is now failing to commit to the very adventurous programming it is supposed to be dedicated to.