Aphex Twin - Selected Ambient Works Vol 2 (Expanded Edition) Review
Like the unconscious mind of which it is a product, Selected Ambient Works Vol. 2 is vast, mysterious and often troubling.
Is this what Warp Records were expecting, not long after they signed electronic whizz kid Richard D James back in the early 90s, and he submitted 3 hours of largely beatless experimental soundscapes? Having gained attention for his pounding acid techno tracks, before transitioning to more experimental pieces characterised by deeply emotive melodies, was this new direction some kind of joke, a way to wrongfoot critics or simply an attempt to avoid being pigeonholed? Maybe it’s all three, but somehow Selected Ambient Works Vol 2 became a classic of the genre, and sits among the best-known ambient albums of all time.
This reissue sees it pressed onto vinyl for the first time since its release 30 years ago, as well as a triple CD and double cassette. Each format contains the original 25 tracks, including Stone in Focus which was previously only available on the vinyl, plus two new tracks, ‘Rhubarb Orc. 19.53 Rev’ and ‘th1 [evnslower]’. So for many fans, it’s an opportunity to own an iconic release on their format of choice without paying exorbitant prices on the second-hand market (albeit Warp are still charging a pretty penny for the new edition).
Despite SAW2 being one of Aphex Twin’s most well-known albums, I doubt many people tend to play it in one sitting. While there are plenty of serene and lush passages which are pleasant on the ears, at the other end of the spectrum is an equal, if not greater, proportion which is nightmarish, creepy and downright unsettling. Even to this die-hard Aphex fan, taken as a whole it tends to feel unapproachably monolithic. So one potential advantage of the vinyl - depending on your view - is that the skip button is no longer an option, and one is challenged to take the album on its own terms. Although making repeated trips back and forth to the turntable given the 8 sides of wax more than breaks up the experience.
There’s a sense in which SAW2 represents the logical conclusion of a certain strand that runs through Aphex Twin’s discography - ideas and experiments are taken to their absolute limit, resulting in some of his best work and music which defies categorisation. At the pleasant end of the spectrum, the stately Blue Calx moves at the serene pace of an object orbiting the outer solar system, and the otherworldly drone of Parallel Stripes (#14) sounds like the background hum of the universe if you could just turn everything else off. Rhubarb (#3) is the perfect example of how to convey heartfelt emotion with the utmost grace and simplicity, four chords doing the work of 1,000 words to create something deeply tender without a shred of sentimentality.
However, at the unsettling end of the spectrum is a piece like White Blur 2 (#24), which repeats a short disharmonic refrain over 11 minutes in a nightmare that never seems to end. Or Curtains (#7), which again employs a sparse refrain to induce the uncanny sense you're being observed by an unfriendly presence. Or an even more sinister example, White Blur 2 (#12) which supposedly features voices from a witness interview tape, obtained by a “mate” of James’ who worked for the police.
It's a lazy generalisation to suggest all ambient music is for chilling out to, and SAW 2 is not alone in not sitting comfortably in that category. But what especially strikes me is how divorced it sounds from any of its contemporaries - and really anything since. There was a slew of double disc ‘ambient’ albums released around the same time by acts like The Orb, Future Sound of London and Global Communication, which all fall comfortably in the post-rave sound. But most of SAW2 would push anyone on a comedown into the full-blown horrors. Not to mention the style of the music is much closer to Brian Eno and experimental composers of the mid-20th century, than anything resembling techno.
From the subtly corroded synth drone that opens Cliffs (#1), there settles an unshakeable sense of stillness, of being held in time - or rather, outside of time. This could be a reflection of the altered mental state James supposedly accessed creating the record. Sleeping in his studio for short bursts, he would experience melodies and while lucid dreaming, develop them into tracks which upon waking he would try and recreate. How much of this is true and how much is self-mythology I don’t know, though I’m inclined to believe it more than other past outlandish claims Richard James has made.
Aphex Twin’s persona has always been mysterious; the man behind that grinning face has deployed humour, obfuscation and mischief to characterise his work. But when it comes to sincere emotion, he tends to let the music speak for itself. So it was surprising to find a direct quote in the liner notes where he movingly reflects on the death of his mother, for whom the track Rhubarb is dedicated.
Making use of his lucid dreaming technique once again, James said he regularly has conversations with his parents ‘about nothing in particular’ and next time he hopes they can listen to this track together. The bonus cut of Rhubarb is a live orchestral rendition, which has then been reversed, leaving the melody altered but recognisable. It's a touching way of closing the album with an unexpectedly warm human touch, and fitting epilogue given the track's importance to the author.
How many listeners will arrive at this point after an uninterrupted 3 hr sitting, I’m not sure. Like the unconscious mind of which it is a product, SAW2 is vast, mysterious and often troubling. And even on this ‘definitive’ reissue, still ultimately unknowable.