Lucy kicks things off with two brief, mournful etudes that exude a childlike sense of exploration with sound; Borful Tang's flipside sound collages seem similarly emboldened by the freedom to make noise, though his excursions take on a palpably sinister tinge.
But it's Perc and Kevin Gorman—two supposed techno partisans—who end up stealing the show. On "Paris" and its bleaker counterpart "Molineux," Perc weaves decaying memories into Leyland Kirby-like swells that make for surprisingly tuneful compositions. Gorman's "Frequency Phase" series in three parts delivers on the back of the collection's most highly conceptual music: in a nod to Alvin Lucier, a straightforward and acoustic phrase is played through a delay line again and again. As the processing eats the tune alive (or, in the case of the George Bush-sampling "Frequency Phase Part 2," a sample claws its way up from the abyss), it produces tones more gorgeous than the sum of its parts. Stellate 1 reveals there's more to contemporary techno's leading lights than even their fine beat-driven accomplishments as heretofore suggested. Rather than succumb to a gimmick, the set thoroughly justifies its existence.