Sirius Sounds – Children Of The Bong – Released July 31, 1995 Planet Dog Records
Children of the Bong’s Sirius Sounds is a unique-sounding album, an exotic smorgasbord of pre-Goa psy synths, soothing ambient pads, crunchy breakbeats, wacked-out electro sonics and deep, blissful dub.
It was an integral part of the soundtrack of my yoof and remains a faithful perennial album I return to regularly. Partly because I loved it so much at the time, but also because nothing has sounded quite like it since.
Sirius Sounds has a distinct character that sets it apart from other albums of the time, not so much in terms of its sound pallet but how the sounds are used. In some cases, the lead synths sound like dub basslines, other times the dub sounds like electro, all sloshing about in a potent lysergic stew.
Melodies appear, ebbing and flowing, often mutating other times being replaced by whole new melodies which whisk you away in new, unexpected directions.
In this sense, Children of the Bong reminds me of Orbital, another dynamic duo from the world of electronica with a penchant for long-form tracks filled with unforeseen but hugely satisfying melodic surprises.
Daniel Goganian and Rob Henry’s project may be less known, which is a shame, and, until this month, Sirius Sounds was the only album the pair released. (They’ve just put out a compilation of unreleased tracks called Sonic Ambulance.)
Sirius Sounds came out at a very special time for me, the summer of 1995. I’d just bought my first set of decks and was busy building up my record collection.
I couldn’t have timed it better either, since so many of my all-time favourite albums were released that year. Which is why, unlike most summers, my memories of that summer are all warm and sunny.
I’m sure there must have been rainy days too, it’s just I can’t recall them. I just remember the sticky heatwave days. On days like this, all one can do is ease back the BPMs in favour of something more chilled – enter Children of the Bong.
It was the name that grabbed me first. Just a small, one-column review in Mixmag and I was intrigued. Later, on a visit to my local record shop, the artwork on the cover sealed the deal.
That shop didn’t have listening stations, you had to go up to the counter and ask the guy to play it, which was normally when all the other patrons would instantly pivot and glower their disapproval.
But not this time.
Instead, the heads slowly nodded in rhythmic appreciation, as the frothy fluvial skank of Underwater Dub spilled out the speakers on a tide of sinewave bass.
As I paid and left, I’m pretty sure one of the black leather-clad rockers was trying to catch a sly look at the album cover, perhaps planning to purchase a copy in secret once everyone else had left.
Let’s Get Sirius
Because it was the first track I heard, I still subconsciously think that Underwater Dub is the opening track. In actuality, the opening track is called Polyphase.
Polyphase is the track that essentially sets the tone for the album with swirly synth arpeggios, deep bass and percussion gradually swelling up from underneath.
The track builds up gently over a slow and steady electro-style break while different melodic elements are brought in and out, it’s a perfect warmer upper for what’s coming next.
Ionospheric State ups the tempo a bit as luminous synth leads snake around a series of off-kilter breakbeats. The addition of soft pad chords helps this one to glow, plus a little 303 to bring things to the boil. But it’s that sweet gamelan-sounding melody that really brings this one home and makes it one of my favourite tracks on the album.
Interface Reality starts with some tribal chanting before a bouncy breakbeat comes in. Things really start to sizzle just after the 3-minute mark with some beefed-up percussion and Eastern-style synth jamming.
The Veil is a slow skanking track, with dubby bass and swirling psychedelia while Underwater Dub delivers on its premise as the most dubby track on the album.
It’s a sprawling epic track of just under nine minutes that sounds like a blues party at the bottom of the sea with steady pulses of sub-bass, shoals of shimmering synths, eddying percussive effects and swirling currents of reverb and delay.
A few seconds of this track was all I needed to hear to buy this album just over 28 years ago and as I listen back again, my love for it has not diminished.
Underwater Dub then blends into Life On Planet Earth, a slow yet triumphant track that’s heavy on uplifting melodies. It lumbers along at a subdued hiphop tempo but is packed with trancy flourishes and dayglo rave euphoria.
Squigglasonica is another standout track for me. I’d never heard anything quite like it at the time and frankly, I’ve not heard anything quite like it ever since.
The lynchpin of this track is the choppy breakbeat, which has a little shuffle and slide to it, slinking around and shapeshifting while various bass sounds vie for your attention. The top end, meanwhile, is taken up with various amoebic squeals and squelches.
It’s all very squishy, like you’re being dissolved in the digestive system of a giant galactic breakdancer.
As with much of the tracks on this album, there are plenty of twists and turns throughout the track’s 9-minutes-plus runtime.
Probably one of my favourite moments of the whole album comes at the 6-minute mark, the track stops for a moment before veering off in another direction, stripping things back to just the breaks and the squeaky bits and the result is just so damn funky.
When the pads come in over the top the result is just transcendent …but we’re still not done, because the Children have one last trick up their smoke-stained sleeves, as the track goes off on one last tangent before the end.
Visitor closes off the album (well on my vinyl version at any rate) and it’s another epic one. It starts off as a slower, more ambient-infused piece that gradually builds up steam, adding in more layers of dub bass, breaks, swirling psychedelia and big fat synth leads for the big finale.
A Sirius Relationship
Like I said earlier, this album has been a part of my life now for over 28 years. And bar a couple of clued-in electronica nerds on a few of my fav online groups, it’s tragically unknown and ridiculously underrated.
On the one hand, it’s very much an album of its time and place. You can hear the influences of contemporaries, from pioneers like the Ozrics, to label mates like Eat Static and Banco De Gaia.
And yet, it’s timeless.
Especially compared with contemporary works from the mid-90s psy scene which, let’s face it, have not held up well at all.
While Sirius Sounds continues to forge its own unique path. Their signature psy sounds and deep dub sensibilities, that organic squelshyness, those expertly programmed breakbeats that don’t sound quite like anyone else’s breakbeats – there’s a lot going on here and repeat listens continue to unveil new secrets.
So if you’re lucky enough to remember this one first time around, it’s well worth dusting off a copy and returning to that hazy mid-90s womb.
If you’re a veteran connoisseur of combustibles yet somehow let this album slip past you, you owe it to yourself to listen.
And for those junior ravers busily digging their way through a hefty back catalogue of 90s classics, you’ll want to add this one to your ever-expanding suggestions list.
You’re never too young to take a hit.