ELECTRIBE 101 ELECTRIBAL MEMORIES

ONE OF THE RAVE ERA’S BIGGEST MYSTERIES RETAIN THEIR OTHERWORLDLY INTRIGUE, DESPITE A FABULOUSLY THOROUGH BOXSET FINALLY GIVING THEM THEIR DUE

Until Electribe 101’s previously unreleased second album Electribal Soul finally emerged in 2022 after 30 years on Universal’s shelves, via singer Billie Ray Martin’s own label, the story of rave’s most enigmatic band had been allowed to fade.

It’s scandalous that Electribe 101’s intrigue slowly dissipated. Commercially, their career is one of unfulfilled potential. Creatively, at least they managed to release one magnificent album. That it’s taken 34 years to do anything with Electribal Memories is maddening. But at least Demon have done a superb job now it has finally re-emerged. Phonogram can be forgiven for not knowing where the Berlin/Birmingham five-piece belonged in 1990: trailblazing pop showing the way for ambient, electro and multioctave frontwomen doesn’t always fit next to SAW, even with Bros’ manager overseeing your career.

While Tom Watkins just might have been a bad fit to manage Electribe 101, at least their remix A&R was on the case. The three bonus CDs with this reissue (also back on vinyl) are filled with remixers who saw which aspect of this multi-faceted band they could play with best. Larry Heard lets Talking With Myself’s piano run amok, having removed virtually everything apart from Martin’s vocals. Kurtis Mantronik focuses on big drums, also giving You’re Walking maximum filth in its squelchy bass. And Frankie Knuckles makes everything he touches five times brighter, because that’s what Frankie Knuckles did.

The remixes needed to be golden, because the era comprised only eight different songs and one proper B-side (Mummy I’m Sick,

I’m Underwater’s happy house horns going full Two Men A Drum Machine And A Trumpet.) The demos unearth the other marvel: a straight-up rave cover of Otis Redding’s That’s How Strong My Love Is. Billie Ray Martin adherents will know how enticing that is.

That Otis cover should have featured among their regular output, but maybe its simplicity squashed it. Martin’s voice – part chanteuse, part Cabaret, part soul, part country, somehow always belonging on the dancefloor – is mysterious enough. In the Midlands, she found bandmates creating mesmerising grooves to match. If 1990’s public weren’t ready, anyone who’s cherished them since is likely to still be slightly in awe of an LP that still hasn’t given up all its secrets. They were The Associates of the rave era. How wonderful they’ve finally got a release worthy of their legend. JE