This release from 2006 offers 74 minutes of very lively electronic music. Here, Roach explores the realm of analog electronics. The music exudes a lively mien as tones pulse and collide with buzzing counterparts. Utilizing a surging structure, Roach achieves a melodic flow that glistens with engaging luster as the aspects slide along an uphill incline, accreting additional elements in the process. Pierced by shriller augmentation, the ascending stream possesses a synthetic charm with its chirping notes and swiftly looped cycles. The first track delivers a relentless dose of these surging electronics for 22 minutes, varying and evolving the central theme with a relaxed urgency. There are points where the lead elements seems to give in to fatigue, allowing background aspects to momentarily dominate the tune, but eventually, revitalized by their dormancy, these buzzing elements return, resurging in slightly mutated form. Then there are a pair of short pieces which display a playful disposition as they pound and pulse. In the first, the electronics present a cheerier character that pursues a quasi-rhythmic structure devoid of any actual impacts. In the second, the general tone is deeper, denser, but not darker. A sense of jubilation is still keynote. Then comes an 11 minute track that explores a distinctly relentless velocity. The pulsations and fuzzy notes come rapidly, streaming along with cheery fashion. The pace is almost exhausting. An undercurrent of desperation is designed to flavor this adrenaline rush. Finally, there is an epic track (33 minutes long) that applies this frantic onrushing delivery to a heavenly emulsion of chittering and dervish rotations. Notes are compressed, then ejected into a fluid solvent that propels everything in a steady current of bewitching properties. The piece refuses to give in to debilitation, maintaining a deliberate momentum that actually exudes energy rather than expending it. And (believe it or not) the piece actually achieves a greater enthusiasm for its climax. This release is remarkably unlike anything Roach has ever done. The style and choice of sounds are uncharacteristic for him, but his mastery of this fresh direction is stunningly rewarding.

Steve Roach is not your typical 70s musician and this is not your average 70s album. And yet it has a clear retro feeling to it. It all starts in the dry and poignant remark printed on the first page of this double-fold out digipack filled with neuronal imagery and shattering sci-fi spinal cord graphics: ”Created mostly on analog modular and real analog synths with lots of knobs”. To be clear about things right from the start: “Proof positive” is a sequencer album.

This will not come as a direct shock to all Roach-fans, as he has always allowed his music to be infused by a rhytmical pulse and, unlike many of his fellow travellers from the pioneering days, never put aside the old equipment entirely. Which is why this is definitely not a step back, but merely the most consequential in a string of releases which have combined analog sound creation with the most modern sampling and software technology. What does give it that “old school” vibe is the immediately recognisable “musical” way in which he utulises his sequencers. While techno and acid (both scenes which have embraced Steve as a sort of father figure) have purposely de-humanised the trade-mark machine of the early days of electronics, turning it into a “tool” rather than an instrument, Roach plays his babies like someone would play a trumpet, a trombone or a piano. Minimal changes in accent, subtle shifts in pattern, the congenial juxtaposing of melodic lines to create an entirely new sensation – no computer in the world could acchieve the same result with this precision, accuracy and flair. If, at a casual listen, the album sounds almost too smooth on the surface, then that only adds to the praise – you’ll discover the deeper structures later. Of course, the idea becomes clearest in the two long pieces opening and closing the record, when the beat is somehow always present, even when it has faded to a faint whisper. But the more compact tracks, such as the three-minute “Essential Occurence” are of equal inner wideness, with spaceous string textures running underneath the tonal current.

The fact that all of this was mainly improvised over endless solo jam sessions in the studio only adds to the 70s feeling mentioned in the first paragraph. If there is one aspect which doesn’t fit the picture (besides the irredescently polished sound), then it must be that these pieces all follow the rules of decay, starting at their peak and then slowly disintegrating from there, lending them an air of melancholy. But then again, Steve Roach never claimed to be a disciple of “flower power” anyway. -Tobias Fischer