Back in the mid–nineties, which feels like a very long time ago now, the experimental hardcore techno-scene came into its own and created some of the most brutal and insane electronic music ever heard. Three of the major pioneers from back then were Poka Michelson, Laurent Mialon and Lasse Steen, better known as No Name, La Peste and Senical, and they helped create, in each their own way, the basic forms of noisecore and avant-gabber, as well as defining the outer limits of these styles. The focal point of the scene has since shifted to breakcore, a genre gaining attention from the media and the traditional electronica audience, who find it easier to relate to cheery drill'n'bass-techniques and ironic ”deconstructions” of pop music, rather than abstract industrial gabber. Mialon, Steen and Michelson seemed, each in their own way, to have left the scene they pioneered, but now, new releases have surprisingly been issued from all of them; releases which seem to continue where they left off, instead of trying to keep up with the dominating breakcore whims of the times.

The least surprising noisecore-”comeback” is probably that of La Peste, because he was already slightly a latecomer and was, if anyone, instrumental in continuing the style throughout the last part of the Nineties, through his own releases as well as with his record label Hangars Liquides. Actually he never really disappeared, because even though he in 2001 declared that he would dedicate himself to pure avantgarde, he still played live in the French hardcore circles and released his ambitious multimedia-art project WTC.EXT on Hangars Liquides. And the new release, Hangars Liquides 026, is still also a kind of avant-garde, even if it presents itself as brutal and searing noise-gabber. The first two of the three nameless tracks of the record continues the vibe from 2001's HL021; an eternally mutating stream of grinding machine rhythms and jangling, supernatural electronic sounds. Everything has been twisted and effect-smothered beyond recognition, but, impressively, without diminishing the visceral impact. The music is as physically riveting as it is mercilessly abstract.

A strange logic seems to be working amidst the chaos, but whereas this was razor-sharp and almost chillingly stringent on HL021, it is much more chaotic and incontrollable here, a kind of mathematics of disintegration, whose effect perhaps is not as apparently disturbing as the splintered geometry of its predecessor, but definitely creates something profoundly fascinating, if not exactly beautiful. In any case, this is the obvious direction LaPeste's music must take if it is to continue its evolution. In contrast, the final track is a long, shapeless noise composition that does present an interesting soundscape, and offers some fine musical moments along the way, but also suffers from a slightly too extensive use of digital effects, and all in all doesn't differ markedly from much other experimental noise. Not that this stops Hangars Liquides 026 from being a remarkable record, but it underlines the fact that La Peste is most interesting and original when he is, to some extent, anchored in his hardcore roots, undermining the rhythmic conventions from within, instead of merely rejecting them completely.

The continually collapsing soundworlds of La Peste brings him closer to Poka Michelson, who seems to have been a reference point for him from the start. The four records that she and her sister Stella individually did for the Fischkopf-label still remain the definition itself of avant gabber, and the starting point that Hangars Liquides worked from. But unlike her sister, who releases new material quite frequently under the pseudonym Mouse, it is only rare that Poka makes a sound. Not that she has officially announced her retirement from music – she never announces anything – but in the decade that has passed since the Fischkopf period she has only released one single ep, so it is pretty safe to say that she is not really a part of the scene anymore. Rather, she seems to hover above it with an almost mythical status. Consequently, it its quite a surprise that she's now back with a new No Name–release, five years after 2001's Point G, which was a bit characterized by routine.

The first thing you notice about The Last is that her style actually seems to be changing, even if it is still within the bounds of screwed up, psychedelic speedcore, and even if it is probably only the most dedicated fans who can hear the difference. The simpler and more drifting sound image she uses here is curiously reminiscent of the one Stella explored on her Mouse–ep Klat from 2004, and it seems like the sisters are slowly beginning to approach each other from each their respective corner, after years of representing the diametric opposites of a common primordial essence. Whether this is a strictly good thing in Poka's case is difficult to assess. Whereas Klat quite simply was the best her sister had ever made, The Last lacks some of the stuff that made the early No Name so uniquely shattering. The new tracks consist of relative few layers of mistreated sounds, and almost completely ordinary speedcore rhythms, and that can seem a little one-dimensional and regular compared with the eternally mutating fractal–psychosis and constant reality breakdowns of the earlier works.

To a certain degree, you could say that The Last creates a more extroverted, gothic-apocalyptic sound, rather than the psychological inner terror that Poka used to work with. This seems to be underlined by the slightly awkward heavy metal graphics of the cover and label, and the use of a practically untouched horror movie-sample – clichés of the kind that Poka has always managed to raise herself above, and consequently subverting her mysterious halo here. However, the music is still both inspired and overwhelming on its own terms. The best track is the atmospheric and very atypical Masto, which seems unreal, beautiful and strangely disturbing in spite of the above-mentioned cheap sample, but also Snort and Reaction - a collective suite that makes up the entire b-side – are superb. Momentary glimpses of the old madness can be discerned deep within a howling maelstrom of sound, a merciless energy and intensity that seems to grow and grow until it almost pulverizes the entire world on its way. In other words, The Last is far from disappointing when the initial expectation of Poka recreating the un-recreatable shock of her first records has been discarded. She may not turn your worldview completely upside down like she used to, but she has managed to evolve in a way that once again make her seem essential and forceful.

The same cannot be said of Lasse Steen, but then again, it is not certain that his unexpected return to hardcore should actually warrant a really new release. He has always been known for his great productivity, and in spite of more than fifty releases in five years – among them some on Fischkopf and Hangars Liquides – he had, according to himself, still many hours of unpublished music lying around when he, at the turn of the millennium, tired of noisecore and instead embarked on an more economically rewarding trance-career. It is possible to imagine that some of this old material was sent as a demo to the Widerstand-label, and since then has marinated in a drawer for years util it was finally found and released under his old, illustrious hardcore pseudonym Senical. In any case, Initialized Vandalizm sounds in no way like a more recent production than the latest Senical-album, Perverted Penetrationz vol.1 from 2002 – a record that became the temporary highpoint of Steen's career, not least in the complexity of composition, variation and depth.

Evidently, it was a little disappointing that Steen chose to stop at the moment where he had never been better, and the expectations for a Senical-revival are equally big. Unfortunately, they are not quite fulfilled with Initialized Vandalizm, which does continue the safe mixture of claustrophobic horror-themes and industrial distortion, but at the same time draws too heavily on Steen's own default-techniques, as well as suffers under an, at times, messy production. The latter especially applies to ”Portions of Steel”, where the analogue machines are run through so much wanton digital distortion that there is nothing left but flaccid treble noise. ”Solid” is similar, but here there's enough compository structure to make it successful. The remaining two tracks are still the best, though, with Steen on familiar trashed doomcore territory: He can do this kind of stuff in his sleep, and consequently there are no surprises, but even by routine and with a muddy sound, he still taps into a demented energy that far more well-produced acts often lack. As such, Initialized Vandalizm belongs to the better part of Steen's monumental discography, even if this is not the essential addition you could have hoped.