LTJ Bukem would have you believe that he took drum-n-bass to a new level. He would have you know that he gave that gritty style an elegance, a grace, an acceptable glamour. His Logical Progression DJ sets and the labels associated with his Good Looking Records organization all promoted what he and his acolytes termed "intelligent drum-n-bass." Herein lies the problem.
Bukem is a snob. The internal logic of the term "intelligent drum-n-bass" requires that we must think of everyone else's as moronic, noisy, and unkempt. Bukem's style, so the logic runs, is progressive, pioneering, and ground-breaking, yet when you listen to the many Good Looking compilations, they recall Roger Dean's Hypgnosis artwork and the preposterousness of 1970s progressive rock. Why would anyone use the term "progressive?" How many melodramatic trance tunes have beset us under the nauseating guise of "progressive house?" Progressive is code for "a load of wank."
So it's ironic then that Bukem has abandoned his so-called progressive sound to produce Journey Inwards, a record that invites comparison to 4 Hero's Two Pages. Bukem is no longer interested in stunning us with his liquid ambiance. Instead, he's joined other junglist deserters in their common and quite pointless quest for a lost sequel to Herbie Hancock's Sextant. Mix it Bukem's delusional Rick Wakeman keyboard theatrics and Ian Anderson flute malarkey, and you've nailed this double album.
Yep. Two-discs. This extended set only gives further evidence of Bukem's Yes tendencies. The session musicians he's hired are solid enough, though. (They are session musicians, after all). They proficiently flesh out Bukem's undernourished ideas. But there's a passion lacking from the proceedings. Each of these 14 tracks are laid down to satisfy the requirements of your local hip martini and sushi bar. This album's mellow Rhodes piano and ride cymbal flourishes will complement your local's frosted windows and utterly sophisticated white walls.
Nonetheless, Journey Inwards outs Bukem as the conservative I'd always suspected him to be. His junglist work eschewed the grit and psychosis of the original hardcore breakbeat cadre to return to a dreamy, unspoiled, unreal place in space. Unlike genuine offworld pioneers like Sun Ra and Derrick May, Bukem's journeys into the universe weren't exactly in search of a harmonious world, free of Earth's manifest bigotries. I suspect him of more middle class aspirations. Hopefully, he'll find his own happiness on Journey Inwards, because this isn't the species of joy I'm comfortable being surrounded by.
