Review Summary: Surgical precision
There's a symbiotic relationship between DJs and live audiences. They feed off each other's energies; even though the audience is subject to the choices of the DJ, a mindful DJ gauges the temperature of the room and elects his next track based on that. When an artist enters the studio, however, the audience is at the mercy of their urges and inclinations.
Crash Recoil by Surgeon is the best of both worlds: it's a studio album informed by the artist's decades of experience as one of the foremost DJs in techno. Surgeon, real name Anthony Child, said of the album: "In the same way that bands tour songs before going into the studio to record an album, I was able to explore these songs and hone their effectiveness during my live performances before creating a studio version."
Crash Recoil's live history is palpable in that it could serve as a meat-and-potatoes DJ set on its own. First track "Oak Bank" is practically begging to open a set as its whisper-y intro unfolds into a serpentine metallic romp. Like the rest of the album, it's an anxious track that can hardly settle for a minute or two without shifting gears. With every track hovering around the 6-7 minute mark (not particularly long in the world of techno), this frenetic pace may sound exhausting, but it allows Surgeon to stay true to the art of live DJ-ing. While sounds come and go, one can feel the imprint of Surgeon behind the decks, examining and reacting to the needs of the audience. For example, as "Leadership Contest" melts into nothingness after a torrent of bassy synth, it feels like Surgeon is giving the crowd a breather after a five-track barrage. Directly afterwards, "Masks & Archetypes" brings perhaps the densest and most frenzied sound of the entire album. The clinical precision of
Crash Recoil's structure shows Surgeon's many years of experience as both a producer.
It's interesting hearing Surgeon's modern twist on his classic style. There's nothing overtly cutting-edge or "new school" about his approach here, but the sound of each instrument is so crisp and powerful that it's nearly futuristic. Otherwise,
Crash Recoil is techno preserved in amber. The buzzing mechanical hum of "Metal Pig," the pad-heavy melodic denouement of "Hope Not Hate," the crushing drum programming of "Masks and Archetypes"–this is techno distilled into its rudimentary elements, and the building blocks here are as finely tuned as they come. Even though
Crash Recoil may not exceed the quality of his legendary trio of albums on Tresor back in the nineties, Surgeon has nothing left to prove as an artist. It's a treat to hear someone of his caliber release exciting music so long after his career began. Without breaking new ground,
Crash Recoil finds the DJ bringing intense energy to the studio and reminding audiences what makes him a titan of techno.
