Orbital come back around. Well, it seems logical, doesn't it?

Well, slap me with a chocolate banana and call me Humphrey, I cannot believe my internet-reading eyes.

Orbital have reformed!

The brothers Hartnoll (pictured) are taking their bobbing headlights to the Big Chill, which happens at the beginning of August next year.

At their last recorded gig, I blubbered like a little girl who'd lost her chainsaw.  When the last notes of One Perfect Sunrise rang out in a live session on John Peel's show, it was the end of a band that was single-handedly responsible for my love of dance music.

My most vivid memory of the 90s (are we allowed to talk about the 90s like that yet?) was the swathe of blue light washing over gurning faces at one of their mid-90s festival gigs.

And now they're back, according to this piece in the NME.

Says Phil Orbital: "It's not an exercise in nostalgia, the time just seems right."

The timing is terrible.  It's eight and a half months away.  I'm going to have to nail my joy down and triple-wrap it in gaffer tape, lest I explode from months of delighted anticipation.

I'm still waiting for that chocolate banana slap, by the way.

Oramics is like television, only backwards

There's was something refreshing about Sunday night, like a slap in the face with a glove woven from miniature bunny rabbits.

I went to an electronic music night with seven, count 'em, seven female artists. It was a million miles from bearded nerds with bleepy toys.

But more about that later in the week.

Meanwhile, the picture above is the best picture in the world. It is Daphne Oram, electronic music pioneer and co-founder of Maida Vale's Radiophonic Workshop.

She created the Oramics machine, a piece of gear that would make the super-sleek geeks at Korg recoil:

It was about the size of a chest of drawers and was constructed from metal shelving materials. Electric motors pulled eight parallel tracks of clear 35mm film stock across scanners that operated like TV sets in reverse.

I love Daphne. Read about her in the Guardian here.

Six wheels on my digeridoo

I've been hiding from my keyboard for the last couple of weeks.

While I rediscover my blogging rhythm, here is some music to mash up your ears, um, big style.

First up, Manchester's grime collective Virus Syndicate bring on their mechanistic style on second album Sick Pay (pictured). Sub bass with intelligence.



This next band is more entertaining than a marching band of kazoo-playing sealions dressed as go-go dancers. Gang Gang Dance offer a sort of tribal prog-techno that probably needs to be seen live to be appreciated. Their new album is Saint Dymphna, and it makes me want to roller skate through Brooklyn on a six-wheeled digeridoo.

And lastly, go and listen to Mira Calix. The Elephant In The Room: 3 Commissions is lovely and orchestral and evocative, and is ideal listening when you've been so busy working, you ain't had no time to blog.

Swimming with the sharks in the (Basic) Channel

This week, I have been mostly listening to the relentless stabbing* of German techno.

Basic Channel's BCD-2 is well worth a listen if you like watery synths splashing on top of throbbing waves of shark-infested drum machines.

For the dedicated techno fan, this compilation of a decade or so of Basic Channel releases renders all those rare 12"s dead. But it's worth it for the inexorable attack of the bass drum. Go buy.

Off State-side now. Producer Mike Cadoo has reissued his 2005 internet album Shimmer And Fade in a real life album format.

Released under his Bitcrush moniker, the three ideas here are electronic noodling, pop sensibilities and live percussion. With guitars. Four ideas, then. Like an indie Lemon Jelly. Five.

It's a pleasant enough 70 minutes of listening, but I wish it didn't wear so many influences on its sleeve, whether it's Plaid, New Order, Boards Of Canada, early Verve, MBV, Lackluster or Proem. If he stuck to the drudging indie stuff, this could be magnificent.

Finally, holy child of Detroit Kenny Larkin (pictured) has made his Chronicles 12" series available on one double CD for the first time. Detroit's a little too smooth for me, but the packaging's pristine and you get a free mix too, so give the boy some love.

I'm not sure if Detroit has many sharks, so I can't end this post neatly by looping back to my original theme of infested waters. You'll have to write your own ending in the space below.
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*if you like relentless stabbing, there's a new documentary in which Justice slash up the face of a psycho fan. That's, like, soooo Dead Set.

Badger badger badger set

Nexus Art Cafe is hosting a bash for people in the Northern Quarter (Manchester) this Saturday from 7pm (see picture for details).

If you're not going, basically you don't exist. Literally.

I'll be doing some art type co-ordinating stuff with Nexus over the next few months, so I hope they let me win the tombola.

Nexus, by the way, is home to the wonderful cascading rabbits. I'm not sure they'll still be there on Saturday, so shuffle down to the cafe as soon as you can.

Time again for mulleted monkey-man Guru Josh

December 2015 edit: gone too soon. My thoughts are with Paul's nearest and dearest.

Forget Obama. Cast the credit crunch from your mind. History was made tonight when Guru Josh (pictured) secured an impressive comeback to the singles chart.

Former nightclub entertainer Paul Walden hit number three with a new version of his 1989 classic Infinity (1990s... Time For The Guru).

Apart from a wee handful of cover versions by Stockport's heroin-hazed noise-blender V/Vm, Guru Josh's post-89 career has received little public attention.

Until now.

I fear the new version lacks something by editing out the 1990s references in favour of a Basshunter-style house vocal. We don't get Guru's 'ooh ah' monkey noises for a start.

Here are both versions for your consideration. The first is the original 1989 single, with mullet on full show. Below that is the un-mulleted single that's currently riding at number three under Walden's new guise, the Guru Josh Project.

Just one creamy falsetto (warning: contains nauseating levels of false modesty)

Musical comparisons are a dish best served pithy, with a generous side-helping of originality.

That's why, sometimes, my blog makes as much sense as a Lego pipe-wrench. I'd rather describe something in a way you haven't heard before than rely on the usual journalistic cliches ('Tricky is like Morcheeba... on heroin.')

But I'm afraid, Piccadilly Records have whupped me at my own game.

Following my post about Max Tundra and the Sound Of Music, I spotted this description of Tundra's new album in Piccadilly's weekly email guide:

"It sounds like Yes playing glitch techno with Pharrell Williams, fighting Todd Rundgren at the controls while Green Gartside offers his creamiest falsetto."

I never pretend I am the best writer on the internet; I am barely in the top, ooh, four. But I wish I had written that, darn damn'd it.

Exploding wheelchairs: how to explain Squarepusher to normal people

I'm fed up having to explain Squarepusher to drones who are too busy bopping to Pink to succumb to the clanky magic of drill n' bass.

And so it goes:

My boss: I need to get into your log-in. What's your password?

Me: Squarepusher.

My boss: Square pusher? That sounds like some sad kind of dance.

Me: No, he's a, er, he's the guy that does... erm... you can't really hum his tunes but...

Fail.

For my own future reference as much as anything, and in celebration of his new album Just A Souvenier (in shops next week but already in at Bleep), here are a list of ways I shall refer to Squarepusher from now on:

1. A nail-bomb thrown into a skip, which in turn is being humped by R2D2.

2. An iron bin full of iron filings being rolled down a hill made of iron.

3. Six hundred beards trapped in the Large Hadron Collidor.

4. Exploding wheelchairs.

5. A jazz bassist being attacked by a wasp.

6. A wasp being attacked by a jazz bassist.

7. Spiders scurrying over your face while you're dreaming about fluffy penguins.

8. An army of hammers. Laughing.

9. Protesters throwing Amen break samples at a Chris De Burgh concert.

10. A bit like Aphex Twin but not very.

I should point out, for career reasons, that my boss is a very nice man and has never bopped to Pink in his life. He does, however, have cacking awful music taste.

Oh and the cheery Squarepusher design above is a great poster from Standard Motion.