Audiopile Review: Already cemented as a visionary from very early on after pushing techno into new explosive territories with his early 12”s and kick-starting IDM with the first volume of Selected Ambient Works, Richard D. James also created what many now consider the greatest ambient album of all time. SAWII has unleashed legions of obsessives falling deep down rabbit holes in a vain attempt at unlocking the secret code that James has surely left in here somewhere. If we only were to look hard enough! Early online forums were filled with speculation, dissecting any breadcrumbs left to us by the wily James—that SAWII was made in a power plant or that it was written during bouts of lucid dreaming, the latter of which may actually be true. Or is it? There are the breakdowns of the artwork that accompanied the album, or the blog posts by synth nerds obsessing over what gear or filters may have been used, very few coming close. Stirring up more confusion was the myriad versions of the album that featured slight variants of the track listing, which certainly didn’t help that each piece here is listed as “Untitled” (excluding “Blue Calx”, which made its first appearance on the Rephlex comp The Philosophy of Sound and Machine two years prior). But to avoid this confusion when discussing online or IRL, each song has since been given a name by a fan who matched the artwork to the tracks represented in the coded pi charts that accompanied the booklets. Those names are now considered the de facto titles, even James acknowledging their existence (see the bonus track that has been added to this reissue for evidence). While the self-inflicted mystery of the album is certainly part of the enduring appeal, the ineffable qualities and constant stylistic shifts across SAWII are what have kept the long-time fans coming back for more, as well as turning on new listeners with each passing year. SAWII quickly sinks its teeth in with album opener “Cliffs”/Track #1, its looped, Seefeel-esque vocal sample and muted music box melody, safely drop you down on to its alien terrain. But the mood is quickly shifted by Track #2/“Radiator”, which tilt toward the ominous with its softly ping-ponging tones, mimicking a nightmarish carnival theme. Track#3/“Rhubarb”, arguably the finest song on the album, is also one of its most simple, a slowly spiralling set of Badalamenti-like dreamy chords ripe with heavenly respite. Elsewhere, he dives deep with the submarine-like signals and sweeping synths of the oceanic “Blue Calx”, and even squeezes in some beat work on “Hexagon”/Track #20, recalling his groundbreaking ambient-techno of Selected Ambient Works 85-92, though unfurled at a now-tamed tempo. The unexpected addition of two unreleased tracks—The Stars of the Lid-esque “Th1 [Evnslower]” and “Rhubarb Orc. 19.53 Rev” (an orchestral version of Rhubarb reversed by James)—don’t weigh the release down or feel like an afterthought, instead, they’re worthy additions to an already canonized album. But what should really seal the deal here is the inclusion of “Stone In Focus”/Track #19, which only appeared on the original vinyl pressing that has become a holy grail for Aphex collectors (it was excluded from the subsequent 1972 vinyl reissue and all CD editions). A fan favourite that ranks right alongside “Rhubarb”, its plume-like synths and eerie ringing tones are still utterly magnetic and now the subject of hour-long loops on YouTube that have racked up millions of listens. A timeless piece of 20th century electronic music that is finally back in print in its entirety for the first time in three decades. Hallelujah.