[!K7]
Thanks to the generosity of Carl Craig and !K7, there’s a free download after the jump.

After an artist reaches legendary stature too often they are boiled down to just that — a legend who needs no explaining or closer examination. Even though most of us are quite familiar with Carl Craig as a producer, remixer, label mogul and Detroit royalty, I imagine fewer could pinpoint what he’s done in those roles to earn his prestige. Craig’s accomplishments stretch across two decades and nearly 20 appellations and his remix discography is absurdly expansive; so it’s somewhat forgivable if listeners gloss over individual merits and reach for his immortal reputation instead. Sessions, a mixed, two disc retrospective of Carl Craig’s tracks aims to better define his legacy by coalescing pieces of his past and present into coherent wholes.

The task of anthologizing himself compellingly in just over two hours must have been frustrating and fraught with endless doubts and revisions. How many older tracks to use? What about new stuff? Should he feature his wealth of remixes or would it be more suitable to round up his originals? It’s easier, then, to simply judge what’s used and how instead of what was left off. It is notable, however, that only two Carl Craig tracks are included, avoiding all Landcruising, More Songs About Food and Revolutionary Art, and The Album Formerly Known As… material. As the latter two are still readily available on CD, it makes sense to focus on the singles/remixes. Some might also be surprised how contemporary the track selection is, offering only six originals by his more popular 90’s monikers. Many of the selections appear as “Sessions” edits to make it easier for Craig to mix disparate tunes and to give his dearest fans a reason to pick up what they might otherwise already own. To that end, Sessions also includes unreleased versions of “Throw” (Paperclip People) and his “In the Trees” remix (Faze Action), as well as a previously unheard 69 track called “Psychobeat.”

Because Sessions is a mixed affair recorded in one extended take (the two discs are faded in and out), how Craig weaves his tunes together is as important as the threads with which he’s working. Disc one follows the train of thought that has figured heavily into his modern remixes: stripped down, repetitive grooves, precisely stuttered vocals and most of all, gargantuan melodies that utilize every inch of speaker cone. His Grammy-nominated rework of Junior Boys’ “Like A Child” glitters like a post-apocalyptic disco ball as it oscillates, gradually giving way to the sci-fi ostinato pulse of his Rhythm & Sound’s “Poor People Must Work” remix. Though his reconstruction of Chez Damier’s “Help Myself” doesn’t do any favors for the flow, “Throw”‘s classic repetitions get the mix back on track and reveal a great deal about the eventual trajectory of Craig’s sound. This leads to the most potent run of the whole collection, encompassing his genius reworks of Beanfield’s “Tides” and Theo Parrish’s “Falling Up,” “Oscillator”‘s wonky palpitations, the sublime and often overlooked Cesaria Evora “Angola” remix, Francesco Tristano’s twinkling, piano-laden “The Melody,” and closing with what’s sure to be one of this decade’s finest defining tunes — his brain-melting remix of Delia & Gavin’s “Revelee.”

Download: Tres Demented, “Brainfreeze” (Carl Craig “Sessions” Mix)

Disc two is comparatively eclectic and leans more heavily upon Craig’s original productions, starting with two from his 69 guise. “Rushed” throbs like a generator straining to power an overly juiced club in contrast with “Psychobeat”‘s flurry of minimal percussion. From there ascends his poppy but no less effective “Kill 100” remix, only to be cast asunder by the unhinged and snorting “Demented (Or Just Crazy).” Craig’s lunatic Tres Demented guise returns after the seemingly misplaced “In the Trees” whirls to a close, a persona which unites raw vocals and instrumentation with a shuddering progression on “Brainfreeze.” His own “Futurelovetheme” (previously appearing exclusively on the soundtrack for the Japanese film, Vexille) is C2 by numbers and the unnaturally restrained “Sandstorms” which follows are weak choices considering the breadth from which Craig could choose. To make up for it, he concludes with another classic, Innerzone Orchestra’s jazz fest, “Bug In the Bass Bin.”

Sessions could have easily gone on for another disc or two and still not have fully encapsulated what makes Carl Craig such an amazing figure of underground techno; but there’s no doubt in my mind that his relatively concise attempt is more than adequate. As he noted in a recent interview with RA, he chose these tunes for their timeliness, but he’s also picked tunes, with notable exceptions, which express how timeless his production talents are. In spite of a few dodgy moments of mixing, hearing Craig piece together his legacy himself reveals how he organizes his own creations and is satisfying and humanizing. For someone whose name is synonymous with “Detroit legend,” pausing to remember the person and achievements behind the title proves well worth it.