23 Skidoo
Urban Gamelan

One of the most original experiments of the early '80s English scene can be found in the music of 23 Skidoo. This trio, in fact, after two EPs and a full-length record that gradually defined their personality, coined a unique and very personal language with this album, which at least apparently distanced itself from the more fashionable influences of the period. In reality, their music metabolized those influences, namely funk, dub, industrial, through a synthesis that elevated a single element to the forefront: rhythm. Their entire sound was indeed based on percussion, mostly of oriental origin. As the title of the album suggests, 23 Skidoo was very attracted to Indonesian sounds, exotic and often esoteric. They merely performed an operation of transfiguration, revisiting those sounds in light of new Western techniques, a bit like the On-U Sound guys did with black reggae.

When you hear the desperate cries of a wounded Vietnamese, it means the first track, "F.U.G.I.," a syncopated funky, has already started, though it hides industrial undertones. The masking is due to their oriental-tinged polyrhythms brought to the forefront, far as sound from the electronic cacophonies of "classic" extremists, but close in the sickly spirit of the genre.
In the following track, "Fire," we fully enter dub territory, with a very dark and oppressive bass rumble, from which beguiling guitar notes emerge, perfect for a belly dance, and under which percussionism halfway between ecstatic and tribal unfolds, truly seductive. The track sounds like how Mark Stewart would have played it if he had almond-shaped eyes.
The album becomes more experimental as it progresses; in fact, by the third track, "Misr Wakening," it winks at the avant-garde, with its dreamlike pace from a night jungle, studded with eerie bamboo ticking. Africa is the great mother of "Jalan Jalan," a nocturnal journey among villages, vodoo tribes, marked by an obsessive tribal rhythm of a purification ritual. We move forward, increasingly fascinated by these disorienting atmospheres, among the sparkling bells of the title-track and the very brief and demonic "Sirens," the hypnotic plots of "Helicopterz" and "Kongo Do," until reaching "Language Dub," 5 minutes of great percussionism, with gong blows and metallic clanging of xylophone, where everything that can give rhythm is made to vibrate in the air, giving life to an occult and morbid orgy. The pace slows down again in "Drunken Reprisal," a prelude to the concluding and lashing "Coup de grace," a crescendo that becomes increasingly violent, gaining strength as seconds pass until it stops and delivers the final blow, almost like a kung-fu move.

A suggestive and pioneering album, it certainly represents a voice outside the chorus in its time, boasting a truly rare originality, and a charm that seduces little by little as the listens go by.
It's not an easily digestible piece of work, but savored at the right pace, it offers very appreciable rewards.