UNDERWORLD Second Toughest In The Infants (Junior Boy’s Own)

Underworld’s second album (or first if you ignore their dodgy pop past, and I suspect they’d rather you did) "Dubnobasswithmyheadman" was the sort of cross-genre collision that hadn’t happened since the likes of "Screamadelica" two years previously: it took dance music and pop and melded them together so seamlesssly you’d be hard pressed to spot the join. Serious techno types, drawn to Underworld by their history of magnificent dance tracks such as the ever-effervescent "Rez", hated it because Karl Hyde’s stream of consciousness lyricism got in the way. The rest of us could just marvel at the way it removed the last remaining barrier in the way of techno’s global acceptance: no longer could anyone moan that it didn’t say anything.

Unfortunately "Second Toughest In The Infants" does much to belittle its predecessor’s good works. The eight tunes on offer are pretty undistinguished, save for the odd jungle breakbeat here or guitar loop there, and Karl Hyde’s lyrical technique makes Sean Ryder look like the poet laureate these days: seeing how many times you can say "Happy Shopper" against a dark metallic backdrop isn’t going to bring the world to its feet in admiration. "Dubnobasswithmyheadman", for all its seedy detours, closed on a note of wide-eyed optimism: "Second Toughest In The Infants" spends its entire duration snuffling around in the dirt, permeated by an energy-sapping greyness that even after a dozen plays hasn’t even started to lift to reveal the riches that must be somewhere underneath. For all the obvious ability and technique on display, it’s a very difficult album to like - you can admire the glacial perfection of its construction, but you’ll never warm to it. That such an album comes from a troupe with Underworld’s track record only makes it all the more disappointing.

UNDERWORLD Beaucoup Fish (Junior Boys Own)

"Beacoup Fish" is the third album from the new-look, streamlined, dance-friendly Underworld (they'd probably prefer it if you forgot about their dodgy pop past as the late-80s model Australian chart-topping Underworld, or their even dodgier pop past as Cardiff band Freur), successor to 1996's "Second Toughest In The Infants", an album that everybody else seems to love, much to my bemusement: no matter how much turntable time it took up its relentlessly grey-clouded visions never cleared to reveal the greatness that many suggested lurked underneath.

"Beacoup Fish" is an entirely different kettle of cherries, however. Right from the opening notes, which wash in on a tide of what sounds like distant echoes of epic house music, it's obvious that this here is Underworld's 'up' album. Not in a 'raise your hands in the air and wave them like you just don't care' sense, more that there's a subtle undercurrent of happiness at play here, the only obvious exceptions being, appropriately enough, "Winjer", a brief balladic sketch that closes the second side, and the thumping "Moaner", a "Born Slippy"-style cracker that originally lived on the soundtrack of "A Life Less Ordinary".

UNDERWORLD A Hundred Days Off (JBO)

Underworld's first album as a duo, following the departure of Darren Emerson, betrays little change in their immaculately constructed soundscape. Still here are the bubbling, burbling rhythms that flicker on the outer edges of familiarity and Karl Hyde's slow motion streams of lyrical consciousness. In fact, there's almost nothing to distinguish any track on "A Hundred Days Off" from the contents of its most immediate predecessors, "Beacoup Fish" and "Second Toughest In The Infants". Not necessarily a bad thing, of course, but slightly disappointing that Underworld's music has settled so comfortably into a well-worn groove that even losing a third of the band can't disrupt it.

There are some minor signs of experimentation this time around, most noticeably the voiceovers that crop up during "Two Months Off" and "Little Speaker", almost like a wiretap into the mind of one of the more erudite "Big Brother" competitors. "Solar Sistim" and "Ess Gee" find the band thinking farthest outside the template: the former has a belching bass synth and a shuffly, laid-back drum pattern, whilst the latter is a soft-focus Dave Pajoesque pseudo-guitar instrumental. But as usual they're best at what they do best, the unashamed pounding floorfillers (see "Rez", "Born Slippy" and "Moaner" for convincing evidence). "A Hundred Days Off"'s contribution is the aforementioned "Two Months Off", the album's first single and one true moment of greatness. There's a euphoric, dirty riff and Karl Hyde's insistent "You bring light in" mantra, and it's a shortcut to why Underworld still matter, a ten-minute Rough Guide to their relevance.