The Art of Chill 4
October 7th, 2007
The Art of Chill series is a compilation that delves into the dark back alleys of electronica to score us some quality ambient music.
The series comprises of various tracks compiled and mixed by guest artists, who share their eagerness to smear the two CD canvas with their own visions of chilled sound. From its fledgling beginnings mixed by Altitude, who stumbled through its infancy with tracks from Charlotte Church, Sinead O’ Connor and Oakenfold, on to Jon Hopkins’ mix of rebellious adolescent experimentation with Aphex Twin and Brian Eno and graduating with a third installation into System 7’s conglomerate with mixes of Tosca, I:Cube and Gaudi.
Therefore it seems only natural for the series to enter into its fourth run under the listless eyes of ‘The Orb’. An act so ambient, Noel Fielding of ‘Mighty Boosh’ fame coined the phrase ‘…more ambient then the Orbs third album’ to describe the hyperbolic blandness of his colleague’s personality. Obviously an absurd concept as its common knowledge (okay, that’s clearly a lie) that little exceeds the ambience of the Orbs third album.
Trust them then on the second CD of this compilation to deliver us an ambient rendition of the angst saturated ‘Smells like Teen Spirit’, a razor-wire song once belted from the raw throat of Kurt Cobain. Utilising the opiate lament of a sitar, the song is rinsed free of any former rage replacing it instead with subversive Eastern chill.
Beginning the compilation with Bowie’s Warszawa is a brave move setting a standard of legendary proportions, especially as it is Eno produced. Alex Patterson of the Orb reminisces in an aptly nostalgic tone about how in the humble surroundings of a bedsit in Earls Court circa ’78 they ‘would put a record on to fall asleep to and that was usually side 2 of Low album by David Bowie’
Given the stamp of approval by the man himself with his cooperation in the making of this album, I think gives the Orb adequate reason to establish it with this song.
Of course, no chill out record would be complete without the token Eno track, but oddly his input into this album lacks the electronica edge that usually gilds his songs. Instead the Orb have substituted it with a more acoustically directed track of Eno’s, which serves effectively in breaking up any threat of an electronica white-wash. Other songs that mercifully splinter the ambient relay of tracks include ‘Dub Power’ (you can probably guess the genre of that one yourself) and a track brought to us by Ulf Lohmann which would feel more at home among derelict Soviet block buildings in some Eastern ghetto.
Other tracks are simply beautifully arranged pieces of music as heard on the melancholic strings of Nina Walshe’s Narcissist and of course Ennio Morricone’s orchestral track which dodges in and out through the chicanes of an epic score and nonchalant stroll. Obviously, the Orb had the luxury of mixing their choice of tracks on this album minimizing their excuses for any erroneous features. But regardless of this they still provide some of the best material on these CD’s themselves, demonstrated on their song ‘Codes’.
That’s not to say that this album is fault free, perhaps at times shimmying on the ledge of monotony with tracks like ‘Gas 1’ as its relentless ventilator rhythm pulses through, unchanging until the subsequent track rescues it from plunging into the banal. The 2 CD anthology of all things ambient concludes with the mellow lullaby of Husky Rescue enticing us to ‘Sleep Tight Tiger’.
In a perfect world (one free of Irish weather, supplemental exams and the swarms of Spanish students hell bent on bottle-knecking Grafton Street) this album would be best listened to while relaxing lightly tipsy beneath the warmth of the evening sun outside post-exam Pav…in a perfect world.
I confess that when I heard that the Orb were to be the compilers of ‘The Art of Chill 4’, I expected a litany of tracks taking ambience to extreme lengths of minimalism, best indulged while getting baked Vancouver style.
But now after experiencing its tranquil but by no means mundane mix, I gladly concede defeat and stub out my insult. Better still, follow Patterson’s advice and “Crack open a chilled Guinness and think on…”
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