I have two OtherSide (look at https://www.otherside.audio/ ) releases this week being reviewed, and I start with Xan Alexander, a prolific musician who releases his thirteenth album, Ouroboros II.
He was a part of The Omega Syndrome (who I can’t trace) and then Magnetron, who do have a Bandcamp presence at https://magnetron.bandcamp.com/album/archive
This UK musician brings his own interpretation of Berlin-style electronica, and the label’s promotion exhorts us that “this is both a journey and an experience, something way more than the sum of its’ parts. The meal awaits you…bring wine”. In fact, that last bit isn’t too far from how I feel about this very clever, and in parts extremely melodic, electronic album, that it is a suite of connected music which is best appreciated with a glass in hand washing over you. Once you allow it to do so, you are allowed into a very satisfying musical experience. The title of the album, incidentally, refers to an ancient Egyptian & Greek symbol depicting a snake or dragon eating its own tail (as you do).
We have six pieces of music, a couple of which are of epic length, so let’s discuss them.
Alexander kicks off proceedings with an epic, so his intent is made clear from the off, and we have The Horn of Monoceros I, II, III. Said Monoceros was first described in Pliny the Elder’s Natural History as a creature with the body of a horse, the head of a stag, the feet of an elephant, and the tail of a boar. It had one black horn in the middle of its forehead and was alleged to be impossible to capture alive.
It opens mysteriously, the groaning of the creature at the heart, effects providing for a sense of mystery. Now, some electronica can be hard work, but immediately with this, you realise that the inspiration, composition, and performance is so much more. There are symphonic sensibilities at play within this, in a similar way to the legendary Vangelis, with the artist seeking to provide for a cinematic experience surrounding you. The second suite starts just short of six minutes in, signalling an increase in volume, the synths bursting across your headphones, a pulsing bass, and choral effects at the top of the range. It is dreamy and has a touch of the jazz to it in terms of irregular timekeeping. The main synth lead here is questing, searching, mysterious, not by any means violent or to be feared. The whole sound becomes richer and fuller as it develops, and this announces itself as a song and artist not to be dismissed in the background, ignored, but quite vital, the closing passage stripping back again, but with some playful notes.
The Changing Man follows. There is a dystopian feel to the opening here, screaming synths, seemingly in pain, so, I imagine, some form of transition. This dissipates somewhat as we progress, the soundscapes larger and certainly brighter, our man having come through the other side, the pulsing underbelly certainly singing a form of freedom, and five minutes in distinctly funky in its core rhythm segueing into a symphonic wall to the close.
Meglos is up next, the title referring, I believe, to a Doctor Who creature when the legendary Tom Baker was wearing his scarf in the chair. This was a xerophyte, a species of plant capable of surviving in arid conditions. It is over nine minutes and starts with some disturbing vocal effects. In keeping with the nature of the plant, the music is somewhat spartan, but I do enjoy the notes which come to the forefront three minutes in, and the whole track expands halfway in, the same core being overlaid by a vast layer of sound, orchestral and lovely, as pastoral as electronica can get.
Architekts of Aquila may, I believe, refer to the Roman God Jupiter’s eagle (there is a constellation named after it), used as a standard in the army legions. It is the shortest track here at just shy of seven minutes. This is another bright piece, the underbelly insistent, parts of this reminding me of Oldfield in his instrumental pomp. It is embedded below.
Wings of Arke follows this, and is the penultimate piece, the subject of the title being a messenger of Zeus who betrayed him and the gods by joining against them with the Titans in battle, her punishment after defeat having her wings ripped off and banished for all eternity. I like the contemplative opening passage interspersed with bright pulses, a third of the way through the piece taking a dramatic turn with synth riffs heralding the punishment, harsh and unforgiving, the choral soundscape that of the gods safe in their security and dominance. The closing passage is thoughtful, preparation of timeless exile in wilderness.
We close with an epic as we opened, this being ChronoGenesis I, the title referring to how our mind senses and remembers the passage of time, Chronos, of course, being the personification of time in Greek mythology. A ponderous start leading into more vocal effects, a rising cinematic feel, music used as an expression of the eternal passing of time, no matter how we personally feel it as moving quickly (as you get older), or slowly (when bored or disconnected). As we move into the second half, melodies come to the fore, delicate on the gossamer of old father time, trancey, almost psychedelic in its impact on you.
This is a deeply impressive album, and not merely one for fans of electronic music, either. Telling its fascinating stories through the breadth of instrumentation, I have no hesitation in recommending this to you. Take a look at https://othersideaudio.bandcamp.com/album/ouroboros-ii and crack open that bottle!