A generally thoughtful 17-track collection, aiming to unlock minds by extolling the virtues of dance floor dehydration inside the Cocoon bubble, is the outline for what are slightly low key celebrations. Far from being an oversized retrospective — okay, some merchandise bonuses are added for the occasion, and Cocoon fans are never far from a new release anyway — it’s an onward and upward declaration from Sven Väth, planning the label’s next hundred-strong discography upon the techno institution receiving its ton-up telegram.
As to whether it should have gone all out on the catalogue classics blueprint, or at least included a mixed format, at the very least there are big names to mark a big deal. But reading beyond the headliners is where the compilation makes more of the anniversary. Out of the concentration searching for both oxygen and daylight, where veins bulge at the temple but composure never deserts, Sante & Frank Lorber methodically get window panes quivering. Timo Maas is in grouchy, bass is my master mood, Pig & Dan operate between both of these giving the neighbours what for, and Minilogue turn a foam party into a smothering, stifling swamp of techno worry as physical pressure is added to your cranium. Dominik Eulberg and Secret Cinema hold instructions to the lighting of a blue touch paper for the birthday cake candles.
Sebastian Mullaert and Marcus Henriksson flicker, disappear then reemerge behind you on an ultimate in mind, body and soul disciplining, sounding so far away yet following you closely. The Swedes perform a synesthetic Morse Code backed by simmering swells. Minilogue don’t specifically aim for widescreen highs, preferring a degree of the grounded so they can dance and unwind to the light of neon-bulbed shapeshifting akin to a jellyfish lightshow.
Deep house beats on “Everything is All You’ve Got” are gently touched, a marveling trust exercise seeing you cradled should you stumble in slow motion. Teetering on the abstract with fades of pianos and blocks of misted instruments running leylines and a consuming angelic presence, “Atoms With Curiosity…” develops a full deep techno regime pushing down on your pleasure centres. Never found pausing despite a seemingly unending stillness, “Forgotten Memories” takes on a racing pulse in a suspended cardiac episode, still telling you to relax even if pupils are dilated.
The snug jazz ether of “Nor Coming Nor Going” and wispy nightcap of the album’s slowly-stirred remainder, support the longest of the eyes-wide-shut sessions “E de nÃ¥n hemma?” Almost an LP in its own right, its naturist scenery pulled from a sounds library, synth swirls, wind chimes, rolling waves and keyboard levitations are sent teleshopping for 45 minutes, until pangs of skepticism and free-minded improvisation seep in to find progression floating through space. For those with time on their side and a mind to flush out.
File under: Son Kite, Trimatic, Global Communication, DeepChord