With his latest book, Matthew Collin set himself the somewhat daunting task of tracing the evolution of British electronic music. Across the 10 chapters, and 400 odd pages, of Dream Machines he time travels from World War II to The Second Summer Of Love. Due to the amount of information he has to squeeze in, it’s a bit of whistle stop tour. However, his prose is tight, and easy to read, and as a consequence the dense maze of names and events are also easy to remember. There’s no need for constant recaps – Matthew never repeats, himself – he also always sticks to the facts. Never colouring the story with personal preferences or supposition.

Matthew tells a tale of how avant garde methodology and then affordable technology helped give an artistic voice to those who, at the time, were otherwise deprived of one. Specifically women and members of the LGBT+ community. Of how electronics allowed those with no musical training to make music, and in the process forever completely changed ideas about what music could be.

Another thing that Matthew’s book makes clear is that musical electronic innovation generally happens when people are working with only a small amount of gear, and by necessity pushing those machines to their limits. Bending them into unfamiliar shapes, and making them do stuff that they weren’t designed to do. Very often this happens in the name of underground dance music. 

Chapter 1 charts a beginning based around demobbed service men, trained in electrical engineering, radar, and radio, and glut of decommissioned military machinery that could be purchased for pennies. It details the struggle to set up the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, and sketches key figures such as Tristam Cary, Daphne Oram, Desmond Briscoe, Maddalena Fagandini, Janet Beat, F.C. Judd, Desmond Little, and Delia Derbyshire. Matthew also explains that Yuri Gagarin’s first-manned trip into orbit sparked a public obsession with space, and subsequently a ton of Sci-Fi broadcasting – resulting in a generation of children exposed to strange electronic sounds, via shows such as Stingray, Thunderbirds, and Joe 90. Subconsciously inspiring these kids to subsequently take up the baton and themselves create a 1980s synth-pop boom.

Chapter 2 starts with Dr Who, moves on to Joe Meek, and details how The Beatles and Pink Floyd help popularise tape loops and musique concrete. Stopping off for sections on tape-editor extraordinaire John Baker, EMS founder Peter Zinovieff, Basil Kirchin, and Nick Roeg and Donald Cammell’s movie Performance.

Chapter 3 has Hawkwind harness rudimentary synths to produce powerful, pulverising live psychedelia, and outlines the slightly more civilised experiments of their contemporaries such as Roxy Music, King Crimson, and Tonto’s Expanding Head Band. Matthew quite rightly quickly skips over the pompous progressive rock excesses of Yes and Emerson, Lake & Palmer – those that prompted punk’s angry burst of back to basics – there are maybe 2 sentences on them – and instead focuses on Gong, Zorch, and Ozric Tentacles. Making clear that the free festivals, such as Glastonbury, where Hawkwind performed, established the infrastructure, such as “turbo rigs” – that would later be used by rave. 

Brian Eno, once introduced, of course, becomes a central figure. Not least for his electronic albums with David Bowie – which inspired the hip young things who hung out at Rusty Egan and Steve Strange’s Blitz Club in London, Cagney’s in Liverpool, The Warehouse in Leeds, Birmingham’s Rum Runner, who in turn birthed “new romantic” – and the creation of “ambient”.

Chapter 4 gets “industrial” with working class artisans Cabaret Voltaire, and Throbbing Gristle, who according to Cosey Fanni Tutti “were out to break all the rules any way we could.” Both “bands” found punk boring. Its rejection of rock n roll posturing nowhere near extreme enough. Matthew gets DIY with Thomas Leer, Robert Rental and Daniel Miller, demonstrating how cheaper equipement – like punk – encouraged non-musicians to have a go at expressing themselves sonically. Ending in 1979 with Gary Numan taking electronics to the top of the pop charts.

Chapter 5 details the resulting domination of the musical mainstream via Soft Cell, Human League, Heaven 17, Depeche Mode, New Order, Trevor Horn and his label, ZTT, The Pet Shop Boys and hi-NRG, Japan, Simple Minds, Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush.

Chapter 6 is strictly dubwise, documenting the development of the UK’s reggae soundsystems, from Count Suckle to Jah Shaka, and then blowing speaker stacks, and bringing down walls, with studio innovators Dennis Bovell, Neil “Mad Professor” Fraser, and Adrian Sherwood, leading into the new blood like Sound Iration, and Ital Rockers.

Chapter 7 breaks out the lino and recounts the role that Malcolm McLaren’s Buffalo Gals, video games, and especially Morgan Khan’s Streetsounds compilations, played in UK hip hip and electro. Concentrating first on influential DJs, like Greg Wilson, then artists such as Freeez and Paul Hardcastle, moving onto the crews Mastermind, Soul II Soul, The Wild Bunch / Massive Attack.

Chapter 8 sees industrial audio auteurs Chris & Cosey, Coil, and Psychic TV, dabble with the occult before discovering the dancefloor and fashioning “funky alternatives”. A “mash-up” of post-punk and then modern dance moves, where  Muslimgauze, Bourbonese Qualk, Nocturnal Emissions, Portion Control, Nitzer Ebb, and 400 Blows get a mention. Matthew also explains how the Tascam Portastudio led hundreds of enthusiastic “noise” amateurs to create a cassette-swapping underground. Hosts of folks inspired in part by Whitehouse’s provocative “power electronics”, and the challenging, surreal output of Nurse With Wound.

Chapter 9 hits 1987 and highlights sample-based smashes by S’Express, M/A/R/R/S, Coldcut, and Bomb The Bass. All made possible by the Casio FZ1, and Akai’s S612 and S900. Matthew’s research balancing The JAMs’ art anarchy with Stock Aitken Waterman’s pop factory.

Chapter 10 watches rave explode, but also name checks a long list of UK folks who were championing and producing house before ecstasy took hold – cool cats like Krush, Hotline, T-Coy, Eddie Richards, Bang The Party, and Peter “Baby” Ford. The biggest essays, though, are on A Guy Called Gerald and 808 State, The KLF and The Orb. Matthew stresses the the importance of pirate radio, spends some time with bleep, breakbeats and Warp Records before drawing a line from Shut Up And Dance to 4Hero. The Chemical Brothers and Aphex Twin, in the context of the book, represent the future and are only alluded to in passing. 

Each chapter of Dream Machines effectively serves as a primer. If you’re unfamiliar with any of the genres or artists, you’ll definitely be inspired to go searching for clips and records, in order to listen to the music mentioned. 

It’s a tightly told, fascinating narrative, and to be honest, as someone who grew up through Dr Who, Captain Scarlet, The Tomorrow People, and Blake’s 7, I experienced most of these musical changes first hand: I dated “Futurist” girls, did back-spins in Charing Cross tube. I was, of course a raver, and belatedly developed an interest in Industrial via Andrew Weatherall`s darker take on the Balearic Beat. Upon completing the book, more than anything, I wanted to go back to the start – the chapter where I personally had the most to learn – and track down titles by Daphne Oram, Delia Derbyshire, and Janet Beat. Groundbreaking gear that has thankfully been unarchived and reissued by tireless enthusiasts such as Alan Gubby at Buried Treasure and the wonderful Johnny Trunk. 

Matthew Collin’s brilliant new book, Dream Machines, is out now care of Omnibus Press. 

Matthew is also posting online the hundreds of interviews that went into Dream Machines. Both are an incredible, informative and entertaining resource. To be honest, I`m quite jealous `cos a lot of the people he`s spoken to are high on my interview “wish list”.

Matthew started out writing – aged 14 – for Nottm SKAN (School Kids Against Nazis) . He`s since done a ton of journalism – taking in broadsheets, big monthly music magazines, editing i-D, working for the BBC and Al Jazeera – and has now authored 6 books. 

Published in 1997, his Altered State, in my opinion is the definite text on the The Second Summer Of Love, how it happened, and its cultural repercussions. What sets the book apart is the level of detail – Matthew makes a point of telling the stories of minor, but nonetheless important, players. Plus it never falls back on funny druggy anecdotes.