This was one of a handful of unavoidable records when flitting between college rooms in the mid-90s. I am entertained to realise that despite having the general colour and shape of the album cover in my deep memory, I only just noticed the blobby figure with the knife and fork smack bang centre; my brain had transformed the cover into a futuristic city plan. This is an elegant record that I mistook for unadventurous back then. It sounds huge and thick with sound through a cool, deceptive minimalism, plink-plonk Casio beats placed besides moody piano and submarine sounds, strings that thrill rather than dress, and stark storytelling that I was too oblivious to listen to back then. Every part feels carefully thought-through and placed, dub echoes included. Another listener error I made was mistaking the diversity of voices as evidence of dilettantism rather than the shifting, sprawling but focussed collectivism behind the work, and that the dub, Jamaican and other elements reflect the collective, and Bristol’s convoluted history behind them. Tricky’s lines were lifted and shifted to “Maxinquaye” a year later, but it’s striking how much younger he sounds here. He clearly wanted what was in his head to be heard, and did the hard miles to make it. I’ve taken a lot more from this today than I’d expected to.