Perhaps Planet Mu's clearest attribute is founder Mike Paradinas' willingness to put out diverse releases from artists he believes in regardless of where they lie on the electronic music spectrum. Yet as this budget-priced compilation demonstrates, it's also the label's most obvious weakness.
The once-pioneering Warp Records tread down this path before, initiating with the then-revolutionary cream of the Sheffield bleep crop, boldly defining intelligent dance music with its Artificial Intelligence series, and redefining it over and over again. Then, something happened. Risk taking, which had served the label so well in the past, stopped panning out, and many fans who relied on Warp as tastemakers recoiled and migrated away, turning to it on a release-by-release basis as opposed to on blind faith. These days it is impossible to say what kind of label Warp is or even wants to be, and the same applies to Planet Mu. Sacred Symbols of Mu spasmodicaly aims to please through segmentation of its audience, through fragmentation of the sounds it currently mines, ultimately for naught. Based on that premise, conceivably the listener is bound to be happy less than 18% of the time, excepting the handful of devoted fanboys who frequent the label's online message board.
The compilation missteps from the very start with Dykehouse's "The Unbearable Phatness of Being," which basically sounds like a nearly decent outtake from one of Moby's recent limp offerings for Mute. A glut of downtempo and ambient snoozers litter both discs, from the dull folktronica stylings of Leafcutter John's "Lesson" to Lo Recordings' act Mileece's kiddie-sampling, blatant B.O.C. ripping "Tau." Regrettably, the formerly visionary Venetian Snares' digresses further into tired Aphex Twin drill n' bass regurgitation on "Chinaski R.I.P." In an even more dismaying turn, the first new material from Jega in over half a decade fails to dazzle as hoped. Even µ-Ziq himself leaves a bad taste in my mouth with the noodling, glitchy "Wergle The Proud."
I would be remiss, however, not to give credit to the artists here who threaten the overall atmosphere of mediocrity. With "That Track," Shitmat proves once again that he reigns supreme as once and future king of the breakcore scene, regardless of whether or not said scene chooses to accept that or not. Virus Syndicate, despite my general and well-documented dislike for grime, somehow finds a way to entice me with "Neva," another classic MRK 1 production that ranks almost as high as the incredible "Ready To Learn," whose template is recycled here to profound effect. Pinch and DJ Distance rep the dubstep sound hard, though the peerless Vex'd devastate all with the coveted "3rd Choice." Still, of these cited highlights, only three are previously unreleased, making this compilation hardly worth the already discounted price of admission.
Worse than the stagnant acts that participated are those lamentably excluded or otherwise absent. Neither Hellfish nor The DJ Producer are represented here, a crying shame as One Man Sonic Attack Force, the former's 2005 album, was so impressive. While I'm fully aware their releases for Planet Mu are typically comprised of licensed material from Deathchant, as two of the label's finest they should have had some kind of presence. Omitted artists like Benga, Dolphin & The Teknoist, Hatcha, and Neil Landstrumm could have saved Sacred Symbols of Mu from being such a colossal flop. At least Frog Pocket didn't contribute.
samples:
- Shitmat - That Track
- Pinch - Punisher
- Mileece - Tau
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