Review by rA Octopus (PS 08/79) by Charles Uzzell-Edwards

What a dark image CUE plays with on this, his first, solo album. The silhouetted molecular biologist on the cover looks menacing enough but the cavernous soundscapes and echoes that constantly weave their way through this album have left many feeling more than a little cold. Having waded through the warmer waters of the second and third incarnations of this aquatic beast I felt it was time to return to a disc which provided an excellent soundtrack to one of my worst nightmares for years. All of this is unlikely to spur people into grasping at the opportunity to hear this oddity but the more I listen the more I get from this album.

To the casual listener the first two tracks sound like little more than subterranean hissing but when you realize that the sound of CUE's bike and environmental sounds are being tied in it all becomes a little more interesting. A prize should at least go for the bizarrely titled Mile Long Grand Canyon Bra Chain which listens in on the artist who attempted to construct it. Whathefigulookigat is about as aggressive as ambient might like to get with tapping static and vehicle echoes; absolutely no idea what is going on here but the water looks pretty murky. One of may favourites is the softer Island (Gardening Club Anthem) which uses a subdued repetitive electronic vibraphone to create a much needed space for relief from the whiteout of the earlier segments of the album. Strobelight brings back the watery echoes and sounds of birds while Popcorn allows the sound of static to be overlaid with whispering electronics and modulated beeps and a breathy whirring bass sound. Another of my favourites is Giving Up Skenge which, along with Technology (We Represent) and Point Reyes Anthem from Octopus 2 plugs in a massive sub-bass beat resembling the inner workings of some kind of massive machine and testing the capabilities of your stereo and the patience of your neighbors downstairs. Love (for Martha) starts off with unnerving echoing male screams but they are less unnerving because they seem to be the kind of scream that you make to test out the size of the echo rather than scaring the life out of your friends. Clockwork beeps and a slow clicking drumbeat pace out this oddity for the rest of the track with a wavering bass sound underneath. This speeds up and eerie TV show laughter is woven in. Why Can't We All Get Along in Harmony brings in a mish mash of bass, echoes and low-key madness to round off the disc.

Octopus is pretty isolationist listening on the whole and sharper details in the clouded sound are often hard to find which may have tired a lot of ears. But I find that wheeling out the old Octo is a pretty rewarding listen now and again.