In launching "Minimal Wave", a label entirely devoted to reissuing lost synth-pop meteors from twenty-odd years ago, New York promoter Veronika Vasicka has undertaken work that is far from mere musical archaeology reserved for a narrow circle of analog-synth devotees and nostalgics. On the contrary, it's an operation of the utmost relevance to the present day. That same secondhand, thirdhand vintage 80s electronic music, with its raw, necessarily lo-fi production, has in fact been increasingly rediscovered and dusted off in recent years by legions of more or less indie musicians, the latest and trendiest of whom are the outsiders of that varied universe that insiders lump together under the brand of "hypnagogic" pop.
A trend that, like much of the music of the 2000s, has its upside above all in its cross-cutting ability to unite sound cultures once divided by insurmountable barriers. It's no surprise, then, that in putting together a collection meant to capture the state of the art of her Minimal Wave, label head Veronika Vasicka found herself collaborating with Peanut Butter Wolf, aka Chris Manak, boss of Stones Throw – currently among the most respected labels in hip-hop and its offshoots.
An omnivorous passion, free of preconceptions and ideological divides, lies behind this collection of fourteen gems by artists rescued from obscurity, groups that are all very far apart from one another in context and period of activity. And yet what's truly striking is the internal coherence of the selection made by Manak and Vasicka, so much so that you quickly forget you're listening to a compilation.
The crystalline melodies of Linear Movement parade past (and how current, modern, "hypnagogic" the opening of their "Way Out Of Living" still sounds), as do the mechanical dances teetering on the edge of the Iron Curtain courtesy of Crash Course In Science, Das Kabinette, and Esplendor Geometrico, while the morbid synth-pop of Das Ding shines through (startlingly current ancestors of Cold Cave).
This is the cold, magnetic sound of Brighton clubs in those early, wonderful years of the Eighties. It's an orgy of synthetic swarms and transmissions, wrapped up and served with class. You get up from your seat and head straight for the dancefloor. Bringing up Oppenheimer Analysis across the Channel is a bit like reminding nostalgics of the Riviera about the early Righeira. Songs like "Radiance" are flowers sprouting from the asphalt, or rather the indirect, almost inevitable byproduct of the atomic age, as Andy Oppenheimer and Martin Lloyd themselves suggested at the time.
Seen in a different light, the jagged, Commodore-based stride of Tara Cross reduces vintage synth-pop to mere voltaic guerrilla warfare. Likewise, the noir palpitations etched into "Thing I Was Due Forget" by Somnambulist and the French new wave of Martin Dupont leave no room for any further claims.
Let Veronika Vasicka and that madman Chris Manak be sanctified on the spot.
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02/03/2010
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Mauro Roma, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.