I've said this before, will say it again -- Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space wasn't as sudden, surprising or otherwise different a break from the past as many seem to think. The beauty, resigned passion, sweep and flow was all here all along.
Jason Spaceman is, as has been long known, a difficult guy to work with. He left Spacemen 3 (or perhaps it left him), leaving musical legend and eternal cult status as a legacy. Everyone who performed on this, Spiritualized's full debut record, has long since left the band one way or another; even Kate Radley, his then girlfriend as well as band keyboardist, first him romantically for Richard Ashcroft, then the band entirely. So perhaps the thing to salute him for the most is his ability to get good, no, great, fantastic work out of those he works with before they decide to leave. There are much worse talents, to be sure, and when the evidence is left behind, what price personal conflict, perhaps? But then, that's a lot of art to begin with.
As for said art here -- my. Oh my. Psychedelia? Can't be, because frankly were the late sixties ever this good? It's so beautiful, 'Arcadian' I think was the word used by one Melody Maker writer at the time. Not quite Apollonian, because it's not all sweetness and light, not when the song "I Want You" is in fact about wanting somebody totally and utterly out of their life. But the trick is that the lyrics have their edge while the music moves along without it, charging and harmonic, and so very very very produced. A celebration of studio technology and its manifold possibilities, is this record, no, CD. I know it must have come out on vinyl, but I could never imagine it actually on vinyl. Like the title says, this is the promise of laser over needle technology realized in a way that isn't the province of coffee table tastefulness.
So there are four minisymphonies, I guess you could say, arranged by color on the sleeve, each in order with various songs. Pure drift and flow when "Step Into the Breeze" slurs up and out, then slides into "Symphony Space," all phasing and reverb and phasing and reverb, again and again, the softest of flutes indicating more is happening otherwise than might be guessed. A bit of, why not, kick-ass rock -- in a way -- with "Run," rewriting J. J. Cale in a way Clapton never thinks of, and with a gotcha intro to the chorus with flanging suddenly down and up. The soft as silk guitars starting "Take Your Time," and then feeling the bass appear, creep in and kick along the rhythm. The gentlest tension on "Angel Sigh," hearing "cannot know the reason why…" and then BAM -- rock of the gods, guitars launching into the infinite, breaking on through not to the other side but the other universe -- and then going through it all again and sliding out on quiet, deep strings. "Sway" collapsing in the most bottomless of echoes, Jason concluding, "Life sure is weird but what else am I to know?" before finally disappearing.
Except then there's "200 Bars," counted down in exactly 200 bars by Radley, adding a little more music each step of the way until it all kicks in and Jason pulls off another 'it stands for everything at once' metaphor about getting lost in 200 bars, and maybe it's music and maybe it's alcohol and who knows? One of the better jokes I've heard in a while, still.