Stafford, UK-based producer Andy Meecham is probably best known to wider audiences for his electro-funk/disco outings as part of Chicken Lips, and his more breaks-centric explorations as Sir Drew, but he’ simultaneously traversed a somewhat darker and more downbeat path as The Emperor Machine, emerging back in 2004 with the acclaimed debut album “Aimee Tallulah Is Hypnotised.’ Four years on, this second album “Vertical Tones & Horizontal Noise’ compiles together the six-part 12†series of the same name, originally released by DC Recordings during 2005-07. Meecham’ output as The Emperor Machine continues to be characterised by a distinctly band-oriented approach as compared to his other production persona, and in this case the emphasis falls firmly upon downbeat disco and punk-funk grooves, touched with a tangibly Italo-electro indebted edge. It’s also something of an analogue synth fetishist’s wet dream (as track titles like “Seka Wants Your VCS3′ indicate), with the vast sweeps, washes and squeals of what sounds like a veritable arsenal of Arps, Moogs and strange oscillators taking up the foreground on the majority of the 14 tracks here.
While live bass and snare-focused tracks such as opening track “Who You?’ and the Italo-arpeggiated “‘Monkey Overbite’ manage to provide an enjoyable dose of nocturnal punk-funk groove that comes across in a similar vein to a slightly more downbeat version of Munk or Whomadewho, it’s the repeated use of the same basic instrumental elements on many of the tracks here that ultimately leads to the sense of repetition beginning to creep in. Thankfully, it’s the moments where Meecham decides to go further off-track that result in some of “Vertical Tones…’ more memorable offerings. “Lift Up Chong And See’ tosses in cut-up reversed female vocal samples to inspired effect as a battery of rattling conga rhythms and drum machines trace a path beneath streamlined electro pads and wasp-y bursts of analogue synth noise, while recent single “No Sale No I.D.’ also manages to provide plenty of highlights with its psych-tinged fusion of retro-lounge exotica, John Barry-esque theatrics and slinky garage funk. While at times “Vertical Noise…’ feels like little more than a compilation of 12â€s than anything else (and it’s perhaps not to be blamed too much for that, because that’s what this second album basically is), longtime Emperor Machine fans shouldn’ be disappointed with what’s on offer here.
