Pitchfork

Probably the most notable thing about the Orb's increasingly frequent residencies on Kompakt is that the group seems to be rotating back to its German side. The Orb, and especially its chemical enthusiast co-founder Dr. Alex Paterson, may be thought of as a quintessentially English project, synonymous with acid house and Balearic ambient weirdness, but from the beginning they were looking East: As early as 1993 Paterson's WAU label released "Ploy", from Basic Channel member Maurizio, and before that, in 1989, Paterson's A&R work for Brian Eno's E'G imprint led to collaborations between E'G and Thomas Fehlmann's Teutonic Beats label (which itself had its eye on Detroit).

Berlin's Fehlmann came aboard the Orb in 1994, and he's been a steady presence in the inner circle ever since; no doubt his own releases on Kompakt helped pave the way for this eureka-deeka moment. In the end, Okie Dokie has Fehlmann's swirly fingerprints all over it, from the stubby keyboards and schaffel rhythms of "Cool Harbor" to the ambient oompah of the opening "Komplikation", which sounds a little like moon-stomping in the Mariana Trench. Fehlmann's trademark eddies-- fading loops and spiraling delay spun into hypnotic sequences-- run through Okie Dokie from surface to seafloor, and it's his dub rhythms and fondness for density, washing everything with shifting layers of sound, that describes the album's overall aesthetic. (Also notable are the titles: Fehlmann's frequent aquatic metaphors run through "Ripples" and "Cool Harbour", while "Snowbow" echoes Fehlmann's recent Plug Research album, Lowflow.)

Paterson has taken on so many guises and collaborators over the years that it's difficult to say where he is in the picture, aside from the occasional vocal loop and sample (like "Lunik TM"'s "Gotta be free," drawled with a dry abandon that recalls classic Primal Scream). Then again, that same track pulls in cycling wind instruments that, if not sampled directly from Steve Reich, might as well be-- and it was Reich's "Electric Counterpoint" that anchored the Orb's biggest hit, 1991's "Little Fluffy Clouds". Trading classic Orb's celestial aspirations for a glass-bottomed boat, Okie Dokie announces a new port of call, but familiar tides run through it. Listeners expecting nu-Kompakt's bombastic trance or poptastic indulgences might be put off by Okie Dokie's heavy water-- even though gently skanking whisper-anthems like "Kan Kan" and "Ripples" could, properly timed, flood a heaving dance floor. But those who remember M:1:5's eerie polyrhythms on pre-Kompakt Profan, or Dettinger's slurry dream-techno will find that having the Orb on Kompakt makes perfect sense, a bit like an astral body returning to a favored house after a long, elliptical journey.