The 21st century has produced few industrial classics, leaving many to wonder if the genre has passed its prime and is now slouching towards Gomorrah. Labels have folded, veteran acts have reached middle age and gearheads are still waiting for the industrial renaissance to begin. Meanwhile, the gothic subculture has soared into the mainstream, leaving behind her younger, less depressed sibling.
While gothic music is associated with the horror genre, and ethereal music with the fantasy realm, the industrial scene claims science fiction as its playground. The crisp, clean, and often crunchy beats sound like the cooling pings of a newly-minted spaceship; the ominous scuttling noises are akin to those of the crablike creature in the hospital ward of “Aliens;” the ambient interludes and overlays mirror the moments before the “Pitch Black” dark.
In order to understand Totakeke, one must first return to 1994, the year in which haujobb’s debut album, Homes and Gardens, took Europe by storm. The duo’s incredibly intricate keyboard and drum patterns helped to inspire a new industrial offshoot: IDM (Intelligent Dance Music). When Homes and Gardens was released, many reviewers (myself included) believed that the Golden Age had arrived and that we would soon be inundated with amazingly complex and dynamic productions from around the globe. We neglected one salient point: IDM is by design an elitist genre. Few artists are able to do it well, and even fewer label executives are able to recognize it when they hear it.
Fast-forward now to the internet era. The internet produced a sea of change in the means of discovering and distributing new music. Artists no longer needed to rely on A & R departments to get noticed; instead, they began to accumulate fans through downloads and self-produced cd-r’s. The more proficient artists finally had a way to separate themselves from the sludge.
Totakeke is one of these artists. A one-man band from Ronkonkoma, New York (former home to industrial pioneers Controlled Bleeding), Totakeke (Frank Mokros) had released a number of albums as Synth-etik and two under his current guise before being snapped up last year for a new label called Tympanik Audio. The signing turned out to be fortuitous for both parties: Totakeke gained a great promotion and distribution network, while Tympanik ended up with a potential superstar.
Totakeke has many predecessors, but few contemporaries. His sound is distinctly his own, but offers echoes of Gracious Shades, Gridlock and the aforementioned haujobb. For the most part, he operates without vocals, and is frugal with the movie and TV samples (a notable exception being the Lance Henriksen “it’s my blessing, it’s my curse” sample, arguably “Millenium’s” most memorable quote).
Listening to Elekatota produces a dual sense of heightened alertness and calm. The album is both familiar and foreign, accessible and complex. All of the IDM tropes are present; Elekatota has a beat, and one can dance to it, but one can also listen in a state of raptured wonder, trying to wrap one’s head around the multiple themes and overlapping patterns. The 13 tracks meld together, fall back on each other, and reference other points on the album. For this reason, Elekatota is best listened to as a whole; sampling individual tracks provides a skewed image of this artist’s capabilities.
Most musicians would lie low for a while after releasing a work of such high quality. Totakeke, however, is not content to rest on his laurels. This fall, he is scheduled to release Things That Disappear When I Close My Eyes, a double album featuring new and unreleased material, for Tympanik Audio. This young label has been quietly making a name for itself over the past year with a slew of solid, well-concieved releases. I would not be surprised to see them become the next Off Beat and finally give Metropolis a run for its money. Tympanik and Totakeke may be the best marriage since Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and it’s an honor to have been invited to the reception.
-Richard Allen