SCSI-9's debut album from 2002 is one of the better-kept secrets of the first wave of microhouse. Released on Force Tracks at the precise moment when its powers-that-be were talking up "digital disco" and rediscovering pop, Digital Russian instead opted for an almost purist take on dubby tech-house, emphasising hypnotic, endless grooves, carefully programmed house rhythms, deep dub bass, and simple, mnemonic melodies-- again, purist, but frequently perfect. It was also surprisingly energetic, and this unexpected physicality gave a sense of purpose to its anti-eclectic, anti-song formalism. The contrast between each groove's hard core and soft surfaces generated a dancefloor intensity that overrode charges of sameyness, not to mention making it a great housework album.
On 2004's Mini 12"-- their first for Kompakt-- SCSI-9 gave the impression that they'd finally caught the digital disco bug, or at least some closely related strain: "Autumn Love"'s juxtaposition of a sunny breakbeat disco rhythm and majestic strings verged on Balearic, while "Mini"'s skipping, stuttering, stereo-panning groove was positively blessed-out, recalling Orbital's "Belfast" or "Halcyon".
On The Line of Nine, SCSI-9 return to the dreamy, longform grooves of their first album, with little of the rainbow-colored pop immediacy that the Mini single implied. What SCSI-9 have retained from Mini is a certain warm gentleness: with its cheerful basslines and glittering trebly melodies, The Line of Nine is mostly relaxed and unhurried. Many of the songs feature percussion that mimics the crackle of vinyl, perhaps in homage to Farben's supremely sluggish microhouse of yore. Despite this, the album still feels "of a piece" with its predecessor-- if anything the shift is one of perspective. While Digital Russian concentrated on propulsive rhythms which gradually accumulated lush atmospherics, like a stylus picking up dust from the grooves in a record, The Line of Nine favors glistening arrangements which slowly coalesce into a groove.
This gear change from throb to drift ultimately renders The Line of Nine the lesser album, if only slightly. While its supine shimmer allows the duo to focus on sculpting even more scintillating textures than before, in the absence of an obviously pop sensibility, its accommodating glow occasionally encourages the mind to wander.
What's more, I can't help but feel that these albums would make more sense if the chronology was reversed: Digital Russian's long stretches of driving, multi-layered percussive grooves-- putting the tech back into the tech-house-- would fit comfortably into many current DJ sets, while The Line of Nine's tic-toc rhythms and spacey keyboard work would have made perfect sense on Force Tracks or Kompakt in 2002.
Putting all this to one side, it's very difficult to fault this album in any significant way: SCSI-9 are blessed (or cursed) with such sturdy consistency that it's tempting to wish for just one terrible track, if only to hear what a terrible SCSI-9 track would sound like. Instead, the most one can say is that some tracks are more memorable than others, cautious variations on the formula resulting in "the one with the graceful piano" or "the one with the eerily woozy chimes."
It's these little touches that frequently make The Line of Nine a joy to listen to, albeit a quiet and unassuming one. While never courting outright weirdness or hippie abstraction, the album finds SCSI-9 at their most intricate, and the interplay of bouncing, rattling percussion and spiralling synth tones is enough to carry tunes that might otherwise seem insubstantial.
Towards the end of the album, SCSI-9 wander into some darker corners: The keyboard riffs become more foreboding than soothing, and the sparkling surfaces begin to feel icy. These culminate in "Morskaya" and "Ne Contsom a Coltsom", two gorgeous but dark-hearted widescreen epics reminiscent of Luciano at his best. It's these tentative gestures towards other sounds and other emotions that confirm the creeping feeling that producers as consummately talented as SCSI-9 should be pushing themselves further outside their own creative margins. One or two duff tracks would be a small price to pay.
