The first Voices From the Lake album has taken on a mythical status, like a Selected Ambient Works 85-92 for the Berghain generation. Donato Dozzy and Neel, already masters of trippy, ambient-leaning techno (once called “headfuck techno”) on their own records, hit on some kind of flow state when they made their collaborative debut LP. This was a cerebral style of techno that sounded like it grew out of the forest floor, where rustling leaves and padding paws took the place of kick drums, and chords moved like swaying branches and trees. Since that album, as good a full-length as the genre has birthed, everything attached to the Voices From the Lake name—EPs, a live album, the occasional remix, celebrated live sets—has strengthened their reputation. With II, the duo finally sits down to create a follow-up that breathes the same rarefied air as its predecessor. It doesn’t completely match up, but it comes damn close.
From the moment the low end rumbles to life on opener “Eos,” we’re back in glorious terra cognita. The duo’s bass tone alone is a thing of beauty, like a lightweight alloy that’s been hollowed out: You can feel the sub in your chest, but it’s never heavy, and the higher frequencies drive the mood and melody as much as the synth leads do. Bass is the duo’s secret weapon, the sound that makes their music both propulsive and curiously still, laying down an earthy foundation that feels more organic than synthetic.
Though there’s a naturalistic bent to the sounds on II—the percussion knocks like mischievous woodpeckers on the spacey, tranced-out “Montenero,” and there’s a suggestion of birdsong in “Mono No Koto”—this is hardly tree-hugging new-age music. The new record is more rooted in deep, dark, dubby dance music, including a bassline on “Montero” that hits like the foreboding strains of amapiano currently played out by DJs like Mark Ernestus. Or the rippling darkwave synths on “Blue Noa,” which has a muscular runner’s build, hard and lithe: Think Boy Harsher covering Nitzer Ebb for a late-’90s car commercial. With II, the musicians find new things to do with their chiffon basslines and pitter-patter drums, gently expanding the Voices From the Lake remit without venturing too far out of their enchanted forest.
But if you just want what they were dishing out in 2013, II has plenty of that, too. “Bespin” nails the humid atmospheres of the first record, and “Manuark” races forward but still floats, a track you could sneak into a peak-time DJ set to really make the dance floor bliss out. The most legendary Voices From the Lake cut is “Circe + S.T.,” which brought the original album to its transcendent peak about halfway through, and II has its own analog in “Aquate.” Its forceful bassline splits the difference between wonder and fear, an uncertain fork in the path, topped off with a sing-songy melody worthy of an Olof Dreijer record.
It can be hard to decide what to make of a sequel so faithful to the example set by its predecessor. It’s more of the same, but when “the same” felt like divine intervention, shouldn’t we be grateful? For me, the answer lies in “Ian,” the closing track, the third time on II that the duo hints towards something new. For all their music’s beauty, Dozzy and Neel cloak their emotions with an arm’s-length distance that lets you discern the shape of their feelings but not the actual substance. “Ian” holds no such punches, with a dizzy lead that sounds like someone snuck a Rhodes electric piano into their studio. It’s unabashedly happy, with one of those indelible melodies that seems momentarily life-changing after a few too many hours on the dancefloor. But Voices From the Lake have always been good at making their music sound that way without any of that baggage: You don’t need drugs, alcohol, or delirious exhaustion for it to feel profound. As anyone who’s seen their renowned live sets can attest, it’s still mythical, like it’s beamed in from another world, even when it’s happening right in front of you.
