The Rubber Room column is a monthly look at recent and notable releases that don’t fall into the rubric of traditional reviewed material—namely 12”s, EPs, and MP3 only releases.

Various Artists
Detroit Underground Vol. 1
Detroit Underground Vol. 2
[Neuton, 2004]
{7}

Detroit by way of Miami, that is, because both of these excellent 12 inch releases showcase the trademark Schematic sound of Ischemic Folks as opposed to classic Detroit techno. The two discs include eleven first-rate constructions of glitchy IDM filled with cavernous bass lines and metal machine beats. Richard Devine leads off the first volume with “126 BIS,” but, relax, it’s no nightmarish DSP experiment. Instead, it’s an intricate concoction of whirring machines, creaking breakbeats, and laser piercings, a definitive example of the classic Schematic style. Kero’s “Turrets Irie” follows, and it may be even better. It’s a slow burner, with spacious breakbeats and a delectably subterranean bass line. Like Devine’s track, Derek Michael’s “Wasted Again” is textbook Schematic, but contrast is provided by the mellower Hip-Hop funk groove of Modeselektor’s “Emulgator 410” and the manic Jungle stylings of Direkt Jive’s “hormonal imbalance.” Volume two slightly downplays the Schematic sound, although the massive bass lines and intricate beat constructions on Kero’s “26th Birthday” and Direct Jive’s “Peripheral Diversion” definitely fit the mould. Phon.o’s “Kitchen” and Kero’s “10:40 Done” have a lighter, more nimble feel but they’re satisfying nonetheless, Phon.o’s glitchy beats and whomping bass inarguable proof of that. It’s all great stuff, so great, in fact, that by the time volume two finishes, the idea of permanent residence in this particular Detroit Underground should have an undeniably strong appeal.
[Ron Schepper]

Silvah Bullet
Se7en 10"
[Control Tower, 2004]
{8}

Darker than Michael Jackson's hidden room, this is an ugly, rolling, dark bass bastard shows that UK Hip-Hop production needn't sound like bad Acid House mixed with Commodore 64 game music. Taking a break from the sessions for the upcoming TLS album, Keith Tenniswood constructed some live downtempo beats that sound right out of Black Sunday or a prime cut Havoc production. Silvah Bullet's 2004 brand of ragga Hip-Hop is certainly slower but much rougher than it was back in the days of "20 Seconds to Comply".
[Scott McKeating]

Jimmy Edgar
Access Rhythm (EP)
[Warp, 2004]
{6}

Stemming back from trip-hop to broken-beat to the recently dubbed "click-hop," the mixture of jazz and hip-hop laced electronic music has become such a staple that makes Jimmy Edgar's debut on Warp, Access Rhythm, instantly recognizable. Despite overt sonic similarities to label-mate Prefuse 73 (Scott Herren), Edgar's layering takes a decidedly more restrained and minimal approach, which finds better affinity with DJ Cam's Mad Blunted Jazz.
[Nate De Young]

Ellen Allien
Astral
[Bpitch Control, 2004]
{6}

In anticipation of her US spring tour comes this three-track release from Bpitch Supremo and reigning IDM It-Girl, Ellen Allien. Where the choicest moments of 2003's Berlinette were to be found in her precision drum programming and melancholy vocal cutups that sliced through the mix like Exactos on industrial-strength construction paper, Allien's brand of so-called "technoid elektro" here juggles the formula some, putting an emphasis on the whirr and buzz over vocals and melody, with beats that feel considerably more four-square and decidedly less intricate. Not that that's a terrible thing, per se—it's just that when the delicate robo-orchestrations of yore briefly kick in about two-thirds of the way through the title track, rather than being some kind of revelation, it seems she's almost taunting us with a reminder of "Sehnsucht"'s glories. The little vixen.
[Matthew Weiner]

Matthew Dear
Anger Management/Future Never Again (12")
[Spectral, 2004]
{8}

Releasing a profuse amount of music last year, Matthew Dear's Anger Management is a continuation in his electronic gem factory line. The single "Anger Management" follows through with his play between minimal house/electronic pop best characterized on his breakout LP, Leave Luck to Heaven. Using the buoyant synth-pop of "Dog Days" as a starting point, the song's nervous (and infectious) squeaked synth-line attempts to slither out of the tight rhythm. The song unfolds until 45 seconds left, when it ends with a glorious bass jam. The B-side, "Future Never Again" is a monolith of gravelly swooshes and long wet synths - less compulsively catchy, but nonetheless an engrossing work-out.
[Nate De Young]

Fear Factory
Cyberwaste Label Download
[Roadrunner, 2004]
{5}

If Fear Factory of old was man and machine in ultra-syncopation, then this signals that the human has won. But it's unlikely that the human out thought the machine: this sounds like it beat the shit out of it with tree trunks. Circling itself without an agenda or a mind to innovate, "Cyberwaste" is brutally heavy, tight riffage with head knocking, punching drums. Bell roars with a renewed offensive, giving up nothing to either melody or fear of permanent throat damage.

"Nothing you say matters to us".
[Scott McKeating]

Freeform
Wildcat
[Skam, 2004]
{7}

Freeform (Simon Pyke) distinguishes himself from his electronic peers by the ethnic sound materials he uses (perhaps exclusively, judging by the music here) to construct his tracks. On this twenty-eight minute EP, all six songs appear to have their roots in ethnic folk materials that originate out of African or Eastern (Middle and Far) locales. But then, while retaining the natural, identifiable qualities of those materials, he morphs them modernistically so that the resultant beats, rhythms, and arrangements straddle the worlds of older recorded sounds and new electronic rhythms. While it’s a clever concept and one that he pulls off convincingly, one is ultimately more impressed by the expansively orchestrated arrangements and overall sound character than by melody per se. The best tracks here go beyond evocation to conjure a fresh fusion of older folk sounds with electronics. A prime example is the jittery and infectious "Nothing to Say" whose vocal whoops, hand percussion, tribal drums, and harmonica are transformed by Pyke into a mutant hoedown emanating out of some postmodern African outback.
[Ron Schepper]