#forgotten sunscreen applied by basso

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 324: Proper Sunburn - Forgotten Sunscreen Applied by Basso

Given that February is almost over, I’m slowly starting to accept that there’s going to be many great albums from 2019 that I’ll never get a chance to write about. There’s one though that I can’t imagine leaving behind, and that is Proper Sunburn - Forgotten Sunscreen Applied by Basso, which comprises the third volume of Music for Dreams’ “The Serious Collector Series.” Whereas other volumes in the series such as Jan Schulte’s Tropical Drums of Deutschland or soFa’s Elsewhere Junior: A Collection of Cosmic Children’s Songs have explored conceptual curation and highly specific soundworlds, Basso’s Proper Sunburn seeks to do nothing more than present an excellent and well-sequenced collection of tracks and thus aligns closely with Moonboots’ balearic masterpiece Moments in Time. The selections here range from bargain bin beauties to highly obscure rarities, and every single note perfectly encapsulates that elusive yet somehow well understood “Growing Bin vibe.” Across four sides of perfectly pressed wax, Basso treats the listener to wonderful expanses of sunshine positivity, wherein ambient prog shufflers and new age fusion burners intermingle with forest folk psych meditations and joyous synthesizer starscapes. Elsewhere, sugar plum pop vocals surround soulful breakbeat bangers, Italo serenades are married to interstellar AOR, future jazz beatscapes lead Afro-savanna spirituals, and spectral harp runs rain down over acidic lounge zone outs. And though the vibe is primarily of ebullience and celebration, there are also moments of shadowy intensity and dark drama, as the compilation occasionally detours towards dirgey break-up anthems, psychoactive riff rockers, tribal-tinged NDW lullabies, and cruises down the autobahn with shades drawn to the night sky.

Proper Suburn - Forgotten Sunscreen Applied by Basso (Music for Dreams, 2019) The journey begins with Hans Hass and a question: “Welche farbe hat der wind”? Delay-soaked seagull cries introduce a shuffling drum and acoustic guitar groove, with broken beat snare and cymbal patterns giving everything a folksy funk touch. Spindly six string leads weave in and out of the mix and basslines thump through up/down octave motions while Hass’ closed mic’d vocals wrap sensual threads around the heart. During the chorus, harmonious sirens back the male croon and later, during a subdued guitar solo, masculine and feminine vocal accents accompany the psych folk adventures…the whole thing taking my mind to Pentangle…as if McShee and Jantsch are scatting together while Renbourn tears up the fretboard. Pianos add a touch of western saloon magic, ambient organs hover in the distance, and at some point, seagulls, waves, and jet engine drones threaten to wash the mix away. Later, when the vocal scats return, they are more mysterious…haunted even…as they track the dazzling piano and acoustic guitar fireworks. And as the track ends, it all devolves into musique concrete, with voices speaking amidst crazed sound fx and jangling riff panoramas. In the liner notes, Basso discusses being inspired to revisit Volume 5 of DJ Food’s Jazz Breaks series due to a Moonboots set in Croatia, and so we have “The Dawn” appearing here. Seashells, rainsticks, and seed shakers introduce a jazz-kissed tabla rhythm, with tambourines ringing and trap kit touches intercutting in the form of bopping fills and tribal tom flourishes. Afro-idiophonics rain down from a sunshine sky, with balafon gourds buzzing amidst harmonious bass currents that seem to rise up from the soil. Whispers move through blinding feedback swells, synthesizers bathe paradise savannas in golden light, and virtual trumpets intertwine with ancestral choirs emanating from sticks and stones…the whole thing coming together like some dubbed out future jazz approximation of Phil Collins’ globalist world pop.

RVDS’s “Minuet de Vampire” is the most recent cut here and sees rhythm boxes leading a heroin-soaked lounge sway, with hissing hats decaying, square wave synth pulses bopping like a contrabass, and wavering chords hovering like morning fog. Decaying note trails seems to stretch towards infinity, subtle filter manipulations transform into ghostly howls, and guitar volume swells generate billowing hazes that are both angelic and sickly at once. There’s a touch of fever dream delirium as resonating vapors overlap and just as you’ve resigned yourself to the almost oppressive atmospherics of midnight exotica, flashes of light enter via spellbinding harp runs…these immersively gorgeous string melodies that intermingle with the downer atmospheres of firedance future jazz in a way recalling Alice, though as if backed by band of cyborgs. Brass-generated dub chords flutter into the stereo field and the plucked strings continue to shimmer like starlight…increasingly sounding not like a harp, but some crystalline structure that produces melodic waterfalls of every possible color. Then in “Light of Darkness” by Horizont, acoustic guitar rhythms shimmer like underwater gemstones…with dueling six strings generating golden fireworks and refracting lightwaves. Hand drums pop all around the spectrum and shakers keep the body afloat on a soft ambient pulse, with everything doused in reverb and rimshots pinging like sonar blips. There’s a growing sense of anticipation that is eventually rewarded by the presence of smooth basslines, which execute enigmatic conversation with the drum and six string panoramics while sometimes sliding up high and disappearing amongst layers of arpeggiated magic. Almost nothing is allowed to break free from the polyrhythmic folk ritual, so that as the song progresses, it starts to evoke Methany and Hiett, only as if surrendering in total to ceremonial new age minimalism…like a spiritual dance through seascape universes and realms of balearic fantasy.

Xiame’s “Nosso Destino,” from the group’s 1990 LP Xiame, begins with slap bass soloing and guitar chords flowing through reverberating gas clouds. Rainforest percussions underly a narcotizing duet between voice and guitar, wherein sensual pop serenades are back by ringing dreampop chord jangles, and all through the background, Michael Shrieve-style fusions fills splatter and clatter amidst liquid tabla accents. The fragile Italo vocalisms and soft focus touches of mediterranean balladry sweep the heart away towards some seaside paradise...the whole thing scoring a romantic beachside dance bathed in moonlight. There’s a moment where the mix gives over to indulgent fusion fantasy as basslines alight on crazed prog adventures while elsewhere, we push ever further towards a world of transcendent romanticism, with guitar riffs growing urgent and cooing vocalisms suffusing the stereo field…these radiant babbles and child-like croons that eventually climax in a beatific angel chorus. And during an epic passage of closed eye dreampop perfection, a brief yet jaw-dropping laser light guitar solo sets the very air aflame. As Basso tells it, Miko’s “Im Garten” made its way into the balearic consciousness when he live edited two 7”s together at the Garden in Zadar, Croatia. The track sees drum fills communicating with rhythmic birdsong before giving over to a smashing tribal stomp, with bending funk synths and fourth world electro-flutes creating visages of otherworldly jungle environments. Miko enters the scene like some priestess of the night, her operatic vocal mysteries moving in lock step with the militant percussive exotica. Further layers of future funk synthesis arc across the sky and overdubbed voices join in with the sunbeam spells and tribal jazz diva breaths. Industrial winds blow across the mix, hissing voices are obscured by bell tree sparkles, and at some point, the track gives over to rhythmic rainforest psychedelia, with idiophones splashing alongside a mystical drum processional.

Massimo Stella’s “C’e Una Donna Sola” sees touches of mediterranean fusion intermingling with romantic disco and galactic AOR. Sometimes planetarium synthscapes, orgasmic diva moans, and polyrhythmic guitar and piano patterns dance over prog basslines and bongo-led lizard funk drum jams as keyboard star-trails ascend towards the sky. Elsewhere, pleading vocals pull at the heart, heatwave pads wiggle and squiggle, and Rhodes chords skip on sunbeams while octave basslines anchor energetic disco rhythmics. And after some evil vocal chanting and enigmatic angel cooing, we flash into a section of anthemic phaser brass riffing and kaleidoscopic piano soloing before working towards a climax of prog fusion pyrotechnics. Trimolo follows with “Tempe 100” and its congas executing a fantasy jazz bop amidst sparkling guitar harmonics. Pads blow like a cool sea breeze, vocalized bass pulses float the soul, and a flute alights on flights of forest folk fancy while occasionally being joined by pan-pipe virtualisms. During a dramatic instrumental chorus, piano chords bang and sprightly woodwinds flutter above hand drums before the track gives over to a strange midsection wherein digitized clavinet basslines wobble through alien funk motions while western twang acoustics snap overhead. And moving back towards the balearic sway, synthesizers suffuse the mix with sunset colorations as flute leads and Bibiloni-style guitar solos score a beachside forest paradise. Diedel’s “Wo Seid Ihr” is built on rigid machine drums, ethereal pad hazes, and throbbing bass pulsations…the vibe like cruising down a mysterious highway under the dark of night. Claps crack and hi-hats tick anxiously behind Diedel’s sensual singing…his voice whispered and hitting like hot breath on the back of the neck. During the chorus, the track title is repeated in desperation and as darkwave arpeggiations filter over swelling pad cloudforms, we find ourselves in a world of horror-tinged synth-pop that brilliantly presages many aspects of the Italians Do It Better aesthetic. Best of all, the track climaxes with not one but two guitar solos: a Flamenco-kissed acoustic adventure and a molten fuzz guitar eruption.

Mikey D.’s “I Need You (Dub)” sees fat bottomed breaks boom bap’n beneath tropical synth accents, syrupy sampler vocals, orgasmic breaths, electro-tom fills, and bouncing synth basslines. Ethereal hazes and glowing symphonies surround bubblegum vocalisms…these magical boy band fairy hooks that combine with the equatorial dance grooves in a way reminding me of The Knife’s Deep Cuts. At some point, the mix devolves into pure b-boy breakdance mesmerism, with rhythms slapping beneath a panorama of trance electronics and that familiar sample of “you make me feel so good” from Mikey Dread’s “Comic Strip.” Elsewhere, a moment of silence sees ambient percussions, soulful claps, and synthesized orchestrations rushing in alongside a heavenly choral cascades, with repetitions of “Baby! / I Love You! / I Want You! / I Need Your Love!” resulting a pitch perfect moment of electronic gospel pop. And as the song ends, we found ourselves in a surgery sweet paradise of a capella wonderment. As Basso discusses in the liner notes, Wolfsmond’s “Fühl Dich Frei” was an all too short floor filler, one that was begging for an extended dancefloor edit. And so we have “Basso’s Maxi Edit,” which sees evil bass descents leading to a shaker-led rock groove…a pot smoke boogie pulse with tapped hats riding behind squiggling blues guitars while e-pianos sparkle like crystal. Gothic bells ring out as a smokey voice enters the scene, working through stoner lullabies while backing vocals hover mysteriously. The choruses have an almost country western feel, with the track title sung hopefully amidst saloon piano accents and soulful diva whispers, and during an instrumental bridge, woodblocks tick strangely as psychosonic blues solos ride into the night. There’s a moment where it all breaks down into repetitive hand drumming and looping feedback, and as we build back up through scatting guitar riffs and funked out basslines, the track eventually erupts into a jaw dropping 60s psych organ solo.

Apparently, Ghia’s “You Won’t Sleep on My Pillow” was at one point intended to be the closing track, and would have ended this compilation quite dramatically with some shadowy synth pop narcotica touching on Violet Eves and Portishead. Basslines echo and downer drum machine rhythms crack into the void while sci-fi electronics transmute into a heatwave mirage. Lisa Ohm croons over it all with defiant break-up poetry and declarations of independence and as we move into the chorus, the anthemic vocals are backgrounded by golden guitar arpeggios and howling fuzz leads, which create a mesmerizing contrast wherein epic fantasy melodics pull the mind towards cloudland castles even as the lyrics grow ever more angered and intense. There’s a breathtaking moment where the mix explodes open, seeing layer after layer of romantic angel harmonizations pushing the heart towards a climactic synth-pop dreamworld. And later, the group leaves behind the pop paraisos by giving over to tripped out bass fx, boom bap drum expanses, soloing fuzz guitars, and skittering electro accents. A find inspired by a CDr acquired from Tako Reyenga of Music from Memory, Jean Phillipe Rykiel’s “Fair Light” ends the journey on a note of radiant ebullience. Spectral click rhythms underly pads that hit like seafoam, resulting in a polysynth panorama of ambient fusion mastery. Aquamarine hazes are chained to bubbling bass currents, yearning leads modulate through layers of ocean mist, and majestic chordscapes hover like clouds while whale song tracers set the air ablaze. Sometimes we venture off into noodly prog wankery, though it’s always seen through a soft-focus new age blur, and at some point, jangling fuzz guitars enter the scene and give the mix an enhanced fantasy sparkle. The pads lock together to score some impossible sunrise while the leads push ever further towards psychedelic abstraction and nearing the end, kosmische arps billow in from underwater depths and intermingle with the light of refracting starbeams.

(images from my personal copy)