DREXCIYA

Twenty-five years on, Drexciya’s first full-length album, Neptune’s Lair, is still a masterclass in techno minimalism. Armed with only a Roland TR-808, TR-909 drum machines and a trio of archaic synthesizers, James Stinson and Gerald Donald produced one of the most iconic techno records in the genre’s history. Some of its success may be due to a fascinating metatextual concept as well as just some good ol’ fashioned hype. Neptune’s Lair‘s success owes even more to Drexciya’s understanding of dance floor mechanics on a genetic level and genuine imagination and personality, emphasizing the human just as much as the technological. It sounds even more refreshing and invigorating today than it did at the turn of the century, especially with a tasty new vinyl repress from Tresor in honor of the album’s 25th Anniversary.

For those new to the Drexciya myth, the enigmatic duo first emerged from the depths of the underground techno scene in 1992 with a 12″ on legendary Detroit techno label Underground Resistance imprint Shockwave. The Drexciya template was on display from the very beginning – spare, streamlined, mechanized techno laced with otherworldly sound design, sick graphic design and a remarkably cohesive mythology, straight from the start. To paraphrase, Drexciya is rooted in an Afrofuturist mythology where the children of pregnant Transatlantic slaves thrown overboard evolve to create a new civilization underwater. It’s like Sun Ra’s interstellar philosophy by way of Jimi Hendrix’s “1983… (A Merman I Should Turn To Be)” and mid-‘80s sci-fi. If you’ve ever secretly yearned for drum machine-driven electro driving John Carpenter-esque body horror, you’re going to love Drexciya.

After beginning with the slightly ominous album opener, “Temple of Dos De Agua,” a one minute plainchant with some gasping, indecipherable gibbering waiting to pull you under, the album immediately descends into a relentless, driving mixture of house, techno, acid and electro for the next 70 minutes, driving the needle into the black and never letting up. While the whole album is standup and standout, the six-track run from tracks two to seven alone justify Neptune’s Lair as one of techno’s most iconic albums of all time. “Species of the Pod” is a delicious techno/house cruise missile, virulent with acid synths and clinical SFX before it finally falls apart, shuddering into stillness. “Andreaen Sand Dunes” is catchy enough to be an actual Neptunes track, despite being built around little more than disco handclaps and a chic SONAR synthline, sounding something like crustaceans might dance to sideways in some distant spiral galaxy. “Running Out of Space” gathers itself a bit, with a metallic beat that reminds you that Neptune’s Lair was, in fact, made in Detroit and not the Mariana Trench. “Habitat ‘O’ Negative” takes a moment to catch its breath, even if it is through a set of gills, with a bare bleep or two darting into focus like some bioluminescent mystery glimpsed out of the corner of your eye; whether angel or angler fish is up to you. This anti-gravity peace is disturbed by “Universal Element,” the hardest and most driving entry of the batch, making it an ideal choice for DJs looking to inject some vintage Detroit techno into their sets. This is immediately followed by one of the most experimental of the bunch, although equally rooted in the Motor City, as “Drifting Into a Time of No Future” is built around nothing more than a vintage analog sequencer, like the EMS Synthi line on Pink Floyd’s “On the Run,” and a machine press.

Of course, there’s plenty of pleasure to be had outside of this iconic run. “Polymono Plexusgel” is a delight of light, fluttering beats and swooning, undulating strings. “Surface Terrestrial Colonization” sounds like an alien invasion scored by the Tetris soundtrack. “Funk Release Valve” is juddering proto-vaporwave with a barebones boom bap beat. There’s plenty of high weirdness too, though, like the slurping “Draining of the Tanks,” with nothing more than a burbling bassline and some snowflake arpeggiators sounding like some abstract arthouse ’80s flick featuring a submarine bathed in arctic white work lights. Everything on Neptune’s Lair is an example of workmanlike techno, displaying Detroit’s pride in manufacturing everything from sedans to girl groups, elevated and made transcendent with some truly remarkable worldbuilding and a one-of-a-kind sci-fi imagination. Modern techno would do well to borrow a few dozen pages from Stinson’s playbook for an example of how to stand out in a genre known for its anonymity and standardization. It’s a high point of art and craft, showcasing the artist’s personality while still allowing him to stay shadowed and hidden. In many ways, Drexciya helped to create the blueprint for 21st century techno, and it still has yet to be topped.