Another essential Ninja landmark

An imposing boxset for an imposing producer, we were still struggling to get through the hidden trapdoors and secret stashes of the Ninja twentieth anniversary bundle when this tome of terror landed on the doorstep with a convincing, never-settle-for-less thud. In many ways Amon Tobin IS Ninja Tune - unpredictable, unrelenting, inventive, ever evolving (see his film and computer game credits), and with a visual sound that has taken the idea of attacking the senses that step further by rewiring eyes and ears since 1997.

It’s always more fun to discover the outer extras at your leisure, and you’ll be praying for rainy days indoors upon receiving the...takes deep breath...double DVD, seven CD, six ten-inch, posters for your bedroom anthology.

So, concentrating solely on the music for now, a flood of unreleased curios and revelations has the Brazilian working on the edge of chaos, travelling through worlds reacting with volatility to having their undiscovered status rudely overturned. While the electronic helixes don’t always lurch towards a negative or high impact - Tobin is accountable for as just as many intangible quirks through his career as a Ninja thoroughbred (the going phrase back when was funkjazztical tricknology) - instrumentalist gloom sobs tears of granite next to jungle/drum ‘n’ bass whack attacks (the harrowing ‘Grief ’ remix for Ryuichi Sakamoto) and drill ‘n’ bass obliqueness.

Then, in summary of a freehanded sequence and the ways and means of the man, Tobin has the chutzpah to waltz in front of a Royal Albert Hall audience. Another essential Ninja landmark.



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