Big Chill Classics – Compiled and sequenced by Pete Lawrence (Universal)
April 8th, 2004 by susanna
So much has happened since the murky days of 1994. It’s hard to imagine now, but back then manufactured boy bands were battling it out for the number one spot; a right wing Home Secretary was chipping away at our civil liberties while hundreds of thousands of bolshy youngsters were revolting on the streets, and the politicians ignored them. Hardly anyone was interested in Oasis or Blur, while across the pond an Afro-American icon had been arrested and awaited what they were calling ‘the media trial of the century.’
Plenty has happened since then. Most of it has been deeply depressing of course, but at least Noel’s House Party is no longer on the air. For a lucky few, and then a lucky few hundred, and latterly a lucky few thousand, respite from the cruel vagaries of the world has been but a ‘play’ button away. The music we have been introduced to by the Big Chill has been our haven, our comfort blanket, our anti-depressant and our court jester. The impact of tunes like Doctor Rockit’s ‘Cafe de Flore’, or Instrumental’s version of ‘Little Fluffy Clouds’ is not only in their inherent beauty – though beautiful they certainly are. For those of us lucky enough to have attended more than our fair share of Big Chill events, these are pieces of music which can transport you to another place as quickly and surely as the dressing room in Mr Benn’s favourite fancy dress shop.
Wherever you are right now, wouldn’t you prefer to be sipping a Champagne Lush on a glorious summer’s afternoon? Slip on Roy Ayres’ ‘Everybody Loves the Sunshine’ and, as if by magic, an Enchanted Garden appears. Would you like to be emerging from a flower on the Art Trail at Lulworth? Revisit 4Hero’s ‘Les Fleur’, and as if by magic a castle appears. Disappointed you missed the very first Big Chill Gala in the Black Mountains, 1995? Close your eyes to Global Communications ’12:18′ and you’re nearly there. Want to be going crazy in the cocktail tent at Eastnor? Grab hold of Duelling Banjos and as if by magic you’re in a scene from ‘Deliverance’. Actually, best scrap that last one.
The Big Chill’s series of compilation mixes, all the way back to ‘Eyelid Movies’ in 1996, has represented the creme de la creme of the downtempo, ambient and chill-out scene. At their best (2001′s ‘Glisten’ for my money, since you ask) they could be counted among the finest Various Artists albums ever released. So when I say that ‘Big Chill Classics’ is by a comfortable margin the finest one yet, it is not a claim I make lightly. I once nearly went apoplectic when I heard a so-called music journalist say on the radio that there wasn’t really much to chill-out music – buy a decent compilation, she said, and you’ve got it covered. Having heard ‘Big Chill Classics’, I think she may have had a point after all.
What does a great chill-out album need? It needs to take you on an aural odyssey, an adventure through mood and tone. It should balance the familiar with the obscure, offer the opportunity to rediscover long-forgotten gems and discover artists who had previously passed you by. It should make you want to smile, make you want to wipe a tear, make you want to dance, make you want to grab the person next to you and give them a spontaneous hug. Classics does all of this and more. Listening to it on a Walkman at a bus stop can get you some funny looks – not to mention some new friends.
Traditionally an album reviewer at this point will pick out some favourite tracks and talk about them in more detail. Big Chill Classics has 33 of them, and you don’t need me to reprint the tracklist once more. Suffice to say you need every single one of these tunes in your life. You may already own the likes of ‘Albatross’, ‘Lovely Day’ or ‘May You Never’, but you’ll appreciate them so much more in such exalted company. You may even have original copies of Global Communications, Osibisa or Ulrich Schnauss. But just think, one day you might catastrophically drop a three-ton filing cabinet on them and then what would you do? You see, I’ve thought this through.
As if the music wasn’t enough, the limited edition CD also contains a sublime 132-page booklet, containing everything you ever wanted to know about the history of the Big Chill, quotes from many of your favourite Big Chill stars, and hundreds of superb photographs which shall have you drooling in anticipation of this summer’s contribution to a very living history. Look at it this way, for less than 15 quid you can buy a gorgeous little book and get a double CD completely free.
Complaints and grumbles? Of course. We’ll all have our own idea of Big Chill classics that didn’t make the cut. I for one would have liked to hear more from Big Chill Recordings, with Alucidnation and Lol Hammond for starters. But I’m damned if I know which tunes I’d have left out to make space. Oh, and you’ll probably want to grumble that Lemon Jelly’s ‘Soft’ fades before the famous vocal sample. Blame licensing difficulties if you like, but I have a feeling Pete Lawrence did that just to annoy.
After all, there is nothing so boring as perfection.
Enchanted Gordon
