Album: Timo Maas

Loud, Perfecto

Thursday 28 February 2002 20:00 EST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

For his first album proper, after the compilations Music for the Maases and Connected, the German techno stylist Timo Maas offers an interesting set of variations on what he calls his "wet'n'hard" sound – everything from hustling Eighties stompers such as "Old Skool Vibes" to sunset chill-outs such as the closing "Bad Days". Tracks tend to loom into view via shuddering waves of resonant noise, then head straight for the dancefloor, where intriguing shapes are thrown by the treated samples and synth-lines that provide most of Maas's hooks, such as the liquid swirl of reversed guitar at the heart of "Hash Driven" and the bass vocoder belch that drives "Hard Life". Occasionally, he takes the opposite course, as when the rootsy jungle-conga groove of "Like Love" is overtaken by a sprawl of electronic noise and synth pulses. Most familiar is last year's Top 40 hit "Ubik", a slice of crisp breakbeat techno featuring Martin Bettinghaus declaiming mysteriously about being "on a vicious dream into the time-slide", whatever that means. Lyrics have always been a problem for DJ/producers, which is why the more high-profile draft in the likes of Richard Ashcroft to lend a little song-craft to their creations. Here, the best-known collaborators are Kelis, singing about her destiny over the spooky theremin whine of "Help Me", and Finley Quaye, with his semi-improvised ramblings on "Caravan". Less effective is Phil Barnes's dumb cliché lyric on the current single, "To Get Down", the polar opposite of Billy Bragg's verbosity, but none the better for it.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in