Over the decade-long stretch between 1992-2002 that Gerald Donald and James Stinson released electronic music as Drexciya, water was a constant fixation. It was as if the ocean was a third member of the band. Their name described the group’s vision of an underwater society built by the children of pregnant slaves thrown overboard during the Middle Passage. EPs and albums bore titles like Neptune’s Lair, Hydro Doorways, and Digital Tsunami, and were littered with clues that outlined a byzantine afrofuturist mythology. “There are only two wavejumpers in existence today,” they creepily intoned on 1995’s riveting, white-knuckled “Wavejumper,” positioning themselves as the last representatives of a lost tribe. “A lot of things that come through water, all these different molecules—that’s the way I see the music we do,” Stinson once said in a rare interview. “It’s so endless.”
Each of Drexciya’s records—whether collaborating or going solo as Abstract Thought, Lab Rat XL, or Transllusion—had deeply considered conceptual and philosophical premises. Thankfully, Drexciya were never too forthcoming, offering far more questions than answers. Their final album, 2002’s newly-reissued Grava 4, continued to engage in this complex game of world building. It was originally released during a massively prolific 18-month period between 2001-2003, when the duo used various aliases to release seven albums, which they dubbed “storms,” a set of tantalizingly disparate works that hinted at strange new developments in the Drexciyan fable.
Grava 4 is an album of stark, brooding introspection, alternately expansive and oblique. It sees Drexciya turning their attention towards the cosmos, as song titles shifted from aquatic themes to “700 Million Light Years From Earth,” “Drexciyan Star Chamber,” and “Astronomical Guidepost.” A web of constellations was drawn on the cover. In the press surrounding Grava 4, the group claimed to have “finally discovered Utopia (Drexciya Home Universe),” and they allegedly named a star after themselves on this website.
Opener “Cascading Celestial Giants” casts a solemn, slow-motion tone. A churning rhythm sets a sluggish pace, while majestic choral pads suggest a reckoning with the infinite. (Close your eyes, and it’s not hard to imagine a pair of lonely travelers in a small spaceship drifting into the vast unknown.) This is followed up by the languid thrums of “Powers of the Deep,” which cruises at a melancholy clip and is ornamented with slithering, pinging effects. Though the group’s rugged electro drum programming remains intact, everything else sits back in a moody reserve, trading their terrestrial aggressions for something more contemplative.
Throughout their career, Drexciya could be by turns nimble, slamming, or willfully obtuse. The one constant was their live chemistry in the studio. Their records feel proudly DIY, with a raw, unvarnished sheen and track structures that could confound all but the most dedicated DJs. While Grava 4 skips the two-minute pipe bombs of their earlier EPs, the arrangements maintain this proud humanity. The gradual congealing and playful dubbing of “Drexciyan Star Chamber” feels too spontaneous to be the work of careful computer programming, with a sense of discovery and frenetic focus giving life to its spacious funk. “Gravity Waves,” meanwhile, has the tense, wiry urgency of a late-night jam.
Grava 4 is a grower, to be sure. There are no instant-classic, earworming anthems on the level of “Andreaen Sand Dunes” or “Black Sea” here (though the Kraftwerk-saluting “700 Million Light Years From Earth” comes close). Nor does the vulnerability Stinson showcased a year prior under the Other People Place moniker rub off on the duo. But Grava 4 opens up to those who give it space and attention.
Drexciya were pushing to the outer reaches of their sound on this album, and by the year’s end, Stinson would pass from heart complications. In this context, their final deluge of material was perhaps an attempt to sum up the totality of their vision before time ran out. (Stinson had spent his last months in Georgia “for health reasons,” and fans have interpreted his ’02 Transllusion title L.I.F.E. to stand for “life is fast ending.”) Album closer “Astronomical Guidepost” rides a bit of slippery funk, suggesting that space perhaps isn’t so different from the aquatic depths they spent 10 years exploring. Halfway through the track, the music drops out and a metallic voice comes in: “Use the star chart to fix a celestial navigation point. From there you should be able to plug your path back to Earth using rudimentary astronomical guideposts.” It’s a poignant bit of sci-fi ephemera. At the end of Drexciya’s journey, and of Stinson’s life, they’re leading listeners back home to begin the quest all over again.
