Si Begg, a mechanical man of many monikers, adds another to his collection. It's obviously not sufficient that Begg has also been known as Buckfuck 3000, Cabbageboy, and Bigfoot; he now prefers S.I. Futures. Under this guise, Begg's techno and electro-funk poke fun at conventioneering and shareholder meetings. Quite why he's chosen such targets for his satire is not clear to me. Does he object to the great and the good of Proctor and Gamble coming together to discuss investment strategy and revenue streams? And why does Begg consider dance music a viable saber with which to lay into these things? In the absence of even the vaguest of answers, I'll state that the tracks here are sufficiently well put together to stand apart from such distractions. After all, Begg's proven strengths have always been his appreciation and execution of dancefloor mechanics, not his ability to deliver a withering critique of corporate hospitality.
So away from concerns about Begg's secondary motivation, how does the music really fare? Well, if you haven't been absorbing the Plump DJs' frenzied cuts, the filthy electrofunk on the pioneering UK Botchit and Scarper label, or Rennie Pilgrim's equally innovative TCR Records, you'll be mildly impressed.
The Mission Statement pushed Novamute one step further away from pure Berlin/Detroit techno, and closer to the applied mechanics of breakbeat-enhanced funk. This new direction began with Luke Slater's Wireless and continued in a more abstract fashion with Cristian Vogel's Rescate 137. Unfortunately for Begg, Slater and Vogel arrived first on this block and they brought something fresh. Begg, in turn, now presents us with what many others have become accustomed to. The guy also hasn't done himself any favors by releasing The Mission Statement so soon after the Leaf Label put out his Complete Death of Cool compilation, on which Begg focused on similarly fractured, jokey beats. As a result, The Mission Statement sounds as though Begg has retrieved leftovers from those sessions and presented them to Novamute as fresh sounds.
After a daft spoken word intro about this disc being "another quality S.I. Futures project," Begg slaps down the M/A/R/R/S-emulating "This is the Way." This opener gives me no way out from unfavorably contrasting it with "New and Different Experiment," one of his nostalgic tweakings of the Beat Street sound on The Complete Death of Cool. Before long, its cuts, scratches, and synth cowbells get dropped for "I Like That (Brand New)" which features scene-stalwart, T-Power (aka Marc Royal).
Royal has been on the UK jungle/breakbeat since the beginning. His first release in 1991, under the Bass Selective alias, foreshadowed the raw techno that evolved into jungle. As T-Power, his debut album, The Self-Evident Truth of an Intuitive Mind, blended the raga ruffness of Shy FX and UK Apache's "Original Nuttah" with avant jazz and a vast appreciation for experimental music. After parting ways with jungle music and the S.O.U.R label, Royal goofed around as Chocolate Weasel on Ninja Tune's dime. Since then, Royal has become the dependable axis around which the immensely successful Botchit and Scarper turns. Royal's manky beats and unmatched understanding of electro-dynamics have made him a highly sought after remixer and collaborator. Working with Begg on "I Like That," however, brings little distinction to either party. The track hinges on crackle-caked snares and dapples of nervy atmospherics. The "I Like That" sample that is supposed to bind the track which obviously hasn't got the strength to hold this disjointed series of soundfiles together. The atmospheric elements too often break up the rhythm, rendering the track either a brief drop-in for DJs or an irritating spliff symphony.
Begg enlists the hip-hop collective Aspects for "All Terrain Aspects." The trippy flute lines and sparse beats could have made the track a fave for bowl-packers. But the concrete-bound, stilted Aspects crew solidify the track's innate fluidity. Begg, in turn, resorts to vocoding them, showing how desperate he is to give the track some vitality. Plus, UK hip-hop has far better crews than Aspects. Roots Manuva could have made this cut a crucial joint.
In a reference to the trains that pass through the Channel Tunnel, "Eurostar" connects The Mission Statement with 1998's Commuter World, Begg's travelogue-ish documentation of commuter habits and suburban attitudes. However, "Eurostar" relies too heavily on Belgium's poorly imaged facsimile of Kraftwerk, Telex, to compete with the virtuoso command of form and function that hallmarked Commuter World. The closing track and single, "We are Not a Rock Band," is similarly hampered by Begg's appropriation of Telex's dopey moves.
For every unqualified success (e.g. the growling, theremin-led fear of "Assault on Precinct 14" or the mutant sub-bass jungle of "Ionic Funk") Begg lets us down with derivative idiocies such as "The News" or "Freestyle Disco," a steroid-scarfing remake of "Gym and Tonic," Bob Sinclair's filter disco sampling of Jane Fonda's workout tapes.
I find it useful to compare The Mission Statement with Commuter World. Both are concept-driven albums. The difference between them is unmistakable, though. Commuter World was insatiable in its appropriation of styles; Begg never fumbled as he traveled from blunted beats and collages of passengers' conversations to Orb-inspired ambient house/jungle through to hard, unforgiving techno. For The Mission Statement, Begg applies similar rigor only to the album's artwork.
Had Begg spent an equal amount of time on the music as he did on the presentation of his conceit, The Mission Statement would have had a defining and winning purpose. But like 99% of company mission statements, Begg's is a collection of threadbare cliches, knackered phrases and cursory will-this-do's.
