Flanger - Outer Space/Inner Space (2001)

It's ja-a-a-a-zz folks, but not as we know it. How could it be when it's Burnt Friedman and Atom™ setting the controls for the dyslexic heart of the dark side of the moon?

Agents from a more distant future, Flanger echo JG Ballard, pondering the question "Which way to inner space?". Kubrick's vision of 2001 showed us that the quest for space exploration is, of course, underpinned by an inner journey. Flanger pose in silver space suits for the cover art, recalling the anecdote about Salvador Dali, who donned a diver's suit to deliver a lecture, and nearly suffocated. As a playful apparition of an alternate future, it sure beats all those laptop clicks, eh?

But more seriously, Flanger is the piss-take version of the Compost Records thing – Germans with samplers appropriating jazz. Not only do Burnt Friedman (Drome, Nonplace Urban Field) and Uwe Schmidt (Atom(tm)) do their wanking while wearing smirks – humor being a very rare commodity among Teutonic jazzbos – they don’t shy away from the conceptual implications of what they do either (pontificating is another no-no for cool studio cats). The liner notes, for instance, claim that the title is inspired by a J.G. Ballard essay, and offer a rambling, half-bullshit/half-on-to-something critical analysis of the album’s music in a marvelous spoof of real jazz sleeve commentary.

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