At the Soundgarden, an alternative music store in downtown Baltimore, the techno section boasts a hand-lettered sign identifying it as "Stuff we'll catch people stealing." Aficionados of electronica are insatiable - only the freshest sounds and newest albums will do, and they tend to be expensive. Moreover, the ever-churning genres of electronic music are too many to count and too specific to handle (while you read this article, a kid in a basement somewhere will likely invent a new name that covers only the music that he just made on his parents' computer).
There's still merit in the older stuff, however. Enter BT, a.k.a. Washington, DC-native Brian Transeau. Transeau has been on the scene since the mid-'90s which makes him virtually a classic name in the short history of electronic music. And while his style has evolved along with everyone else's, his earlier albums still pull their weight against most artists on the market today.
His first album, 1995's Ima, feels symphonic at times as Transeau flirts with his classical influences and provides an excellent "non-threatening" introduction to electronic music. The superior ESCM departs from that, however. It's more intense but arguably more beautiful, and if you're one of the die-hards, you shouldn't pretend to own a complete collection without it.
ESCM marked the beginning of BT's attempt to pull away from the trance that he pioneered - a variety of electronica later artists called "dream-house." It represents the start of his move toward a progressive form of house music. Hard tracks like ESCM's "Solar Plexus" and "Love, Peace, and Grease" mix in an element not usually found in electronic music: rock and roll.
This trend continued in 2000's Movement in Still Life, which featured little that you could pin down as purely electronic. At concerts on that tour, Transeau would sometimes apologize for the heavy influx of rock, promising that he would get back to playing progressive house in a song or three.
It's not so much a problem as a trademark. BT's music is known for its eclectic themes. Like much of his work, ESCM teases back and forth between dark intensity and lighter, cheesier fare. As that rift between styles has grown, however, his albums have become less continuous and more song-oriented. Unlike popular DJs Paul Oakenfold or Sasha, BT remains focused on producing original music rather than mixing together other people's work, and on creating individual tracks rather than nonstop sets.
Of course, that means people in the market for traditional trance music (a genre that's been supplanted of late by an infinite variety of darker music) won't fall in love with ESCM - too little of it falls into the trance category. In fact, the tracks that demonstrate the greatest trance influence stick out on the album.
If all of ESCM's ten tracks were as head-thrown-back inspired as the emotional climax of its opening number, "Firewater," the disc would sell off the shelves even today. The oceanic opening - complete with mumbling surf, splashes, and the calls of tropical birds - and the tinkling thread of piano notes should feel familiar to listeners who know BT's Ima. After a full minute, however, these soothing sounds take a backseat to increasingly intense rhythms and several soaring sets of intertwined vocals. The song can't be said to crest the opening and hit its stride until three minutes in - an appropriate touch for the introductory track. The only regret: the best musical theme only emerges in the last two of the song's eight minutes, leaving you begging for more.
But BT doesn't waste all his ammo at once. Instead, he brings things down to a more manageable level by playing more with rhythm and less with emotion on "Orbitus Teranium." He then snares the listener in the ethereal melodic hook of "Flaming June," likely the album's most widely recognized song.
One sticking point on the album is the slightly cheap sappiness of "Lullaby for Gaia," but the problem is more with the listener than the music. Why? Because it's embarrassing to get caught listening to something so unabashedly cheesy. Everything in the music itself is solid, from the extraneous melodies that creep into the layered sounds to the coordination between rhythm and vocals. For the sake of your dignity, put some headphones on for this one. Otherwise, your friends may never let you hear the end of it.
The biggest potential problem for most listeners: BT tends to be pretentious from time to time. The lyrics in "Lullaby for Gaia" and "Remember" are prime examples. You shouldn't expect anything else, however, from a style called progressive house - emphasis on the progressive.
If you're looking for a distinctive style, some classic electronica, or just some clever, mind-blowing music, BT's ESCM is a strong ticket - even if it's five years old.
