All City

This fascinating dub outlier is a collection of pieces recorded between 2000 and 2005 by Berlin’s Alexander Christou. Newly reissued, Weird Fiction was first released back in 2017 on Art Yard and has since become something of a cult classic. The reason for that is instantly made apparent with the visionary opening cover of Ras Michael’s “No Hoppers,” but Christou backs up that absolutely killer would-be single with an array of mostly instrumental pieces that feel like a playfully weird and futuristic hybrid of iconic electronic dub artists like Pole and Rhythm & Sound with unexpected other influences ranging from Neu! to the sampledelic exotica kitsch of Tipsy and Stock, Hausen & Walkman. This is easily one of the most distinctive, fun, and legitimately brilliant dub albums of the 21th century.

To some degree, this album seems like it came out of nowhere, as it does not seem to resemble much else in Christou’s sporadic and elusive discography aside from perhaps a couple of pieces from his Berliner Ring quartet, but he has apparently been making music since the late ‘70s. Fittingly, I was similarly unaware of Ras Michael’s “No Hoppers” despite owning a handful of Dadawah and Sons of Negus albums. Christou’s radical reworking of the piece is purportedly based on the version from 1989’s Rastafari Dub tape on ROIR (not to be confused with 1978’s Rastafari in Dub, of course). I say “purportedly” because the vocals in that version are buried deep in the mix and Christou’s version radically reinvents every aspect of the song EXCEPT the vocals. In any case, Christou’s inventive leftfield cover is an instant all-time classic, as he brilliantly weaves magic from little more than a jaunty bass line, a soulful croon reminiscent of Dead Can Dance’s Brendan Perry, and a delightfully ping-pinging array of pops, clicks, and hisses. That is an impressively bananas confluence of influences, but somehow it all works beautifully and feels both incredibly playful and deeply profound (I definitely do not want to be a hopper now, nor should you).   

Weirdly, Christou does not capitalize further on his wonderful voice, as it only surfaces again on the mostly spoken closer “Ladder of Perfection.” While I initially found that to be a bit of a curious decision, I have gradually come to realize that several of the instrumental pieces are pretty damn revelatory in their own right. For example, the vaguely tribal percussion of “Prophet” gradually intensifies into an unstoppable juggernaut of bubbling, throbbing, panning, and heaving layers until a roiling cacophony erupts from the depths in its final minutes. Elsewhere, the lurching alien exotica of “Baudelaire” nearly steals the show, as it approximates an unnervingly viscous, blurting, lurching, and Lovecraftian twist on exotica. Christou seems somewhat less weird fiction-inspired on the similarly excellent “The Red Tower,” however, which feels like a driving futuristic hybrid of reggae, house, didgeridoo psychedelia, and a mutant motorik groove. That said, there is a shimmering cloud of strange harmonies looming above it all, so it is easy to envision myself streaking down the autobahn with the top down as a sentient alien cloud envelops everything in my rearview mirror. The closing “Ladder of Perfection” has its share of surreal elements as well, as it evokes a private press New Age guru inviting me to join him in the cosmos over a viscously rubbery, squirming, and squelching groove.  

The album is also rounded out with an instrumental version of “No Hoppers.” While it does not hold a candle to the perfection of the vocal version, the shift in focus is nevertheless illuminating, as it puts the emphasis squarely upon the vibrantly popping and panning effervescence of Christou’s unconventional percussion. While the vocal version of “No Hoppers” is unquestionably still the pinnacle of both this album and Christou’s career, it is his playful and gleefully unhinged approach to production that ultimately left a deeper impact on me. Hopefully, Christou will someday release more recordings in this same vein, but I suspect that Weird Fiction is destined to remain a one-of-kind perfect unicorn of an album forever, as recapturing the wonky, sizzling, and dubbed-out vibrance of these grooves seems roughly as likely as being hit by lightning twice. Weird Fiction is a stone-cold outsider dub masterpiece.

Listen here.