“It’s like standing in a power station on acid,” said Richard D. James, better known as Aphex Twin, of his landmark album Selected Ambient Works Volume II. Thirty years later, its beautiful yet unsettling dreamlike soundscapes remain as captivating as ever, and earlier this month the album returned with an expanded anniversary edition.
The timing of the release feels fitting given the surge in popularity of Aphex Twin’s music among Gen Z audiences — myself included. Tracks like “QKThr,” “Alberto Balsalm,” and “#3 / Rhubarb” (which is on Selected Ambient Works Volume II) have become popular on social media platforms like TikTok, reflecting a growing cultural desire in discovering or revisiting old music.
James first made a name for himself in the electronic music world with his 1992 debut album, Selected Ambient Works 85-92, a boundary pushing work that cemented his reputation as a pioneer in the genre. Throughout his career, his intimate mastery of electronic sound became evident from the devilishly intricate breakbeats of his 2001 album Drukqs, the minimalist beauty of tracks like "Lichen,” to the broken, glitchy rhythms on “Bucephalus Bouncing Ball.” James’ uncanny ability to span such a vast sonic and emotional spectrum has earned him a loyal following.
The sequel to Selected Ambient Works 85-92, 1994’s Selected Ambient Works Volume II, was a substantial departure from the original’s shimmering, percussive house and techno sounds. James claims Volume II was inspired by lucid dreaming, where he would sleep for very little amounts of time, and recreate the music in his dreams when he woke up. Whether or not this is true — given his notorious tendency to lie to his audience — I prefer the “power station” description better. As he said, Volume II sounds like “if you just stand in the middle of a really massive [power station], you get a really weird presence…That’s totally dreamlike for me. It’s just like a right strange dimension.”
If Brian Eno (the inventor of the ambient genre) designed his early works to backdrop familiar spaces — like airports — James’ Volume II feels crafted for entirely alien or even existential landscapes. It transports listeners to spaces that feel ritualistic, cosmic and almost spiritual, evoking the sound of the void or purgatory. It traverses a wide emotional range from unsettling feelings to deeply beautiful and nostalgic ones. Each track captures the ambience of a specific setting with a distinct feeling that doesn’t seem to exist entirely in the real world.
Interestingly, none of the tracks on the original release were given official names. Instead, they were labeled numerically, from “#1” to “#24.” On this expanded edition, “Blue Calx,” which was originally titled “#13,” was given an official name. Fans have also given the tracks unofficial titles like “cliffs,” “curtains,” “hexagon,” and “lichen.”
The 30th anniversary expanded edition of Volume II includes three bonus tracks, stretching the already extensive runtime to a massive three hours and four minutes. While these bonus tracks have been available in some limited or unofficial capacity before, this edition marks their formal introduction to digital and streaming platforms.
The most notable of the three releases is “#19 / Stone in Focus,” which has long been regarded as one of Aphex Twin’s most iconic and beloved pieces by both fans and critics. Originally included only on the vinyl and cassette versions of the album (it was left off the CD release to save space), “Stone in Focus” found wider recognition in 2015 when it was uploaded unofficially to YouTube, paired with a now-iconic clip of a snow monkey in water. Since then, the video has amassed over 10 million views.
Compositionally, the track is remarkably simple, consisting of three chords played on repeat for over 10 minutes, backed with a soft and distant clicking and occasionally complemented with some soft chimes. The dynamics created as these minimalist elements fade in and out retain our interest, and the deep bass gives the track an incredible sense of scale. One interpretation I like is that the chords mimic the rhythm of breathing — the first chord marking the inhale, and the final chord representing the exhale. Since breathing is something so natural and ingrained in our being, the sound creates a powerful sense of meditative tranquility.
The second new track, “th1 [evnslower],” fits right into the darkest moments of paranoia, which prior tracks like “#4 / Hankie” and “#23 / Tassels” are cloaked in. Occasionally, it swells to suggest a buoyant release from the gloom, though that release never fully happens. The track is dominated by a dense, hefty synth pad that shifts from one drawn-out chord to the next, progressing like the slow, oppressive crawl of heavy fog. It evokes the environment of an expansive, empty, afterlife limbo — a liminal space of nothingness from which there is no escape. This feeling is reinforced by the track’s extensive 11-minute runtime.
However, “th1 [evnslower]”remains the weakest of the three releases, as it becomes somewhat tedious. It also lacks the intrigue of similarly long tracks like “#10 / Tree” or “#22 / Spots,” which achieve a similar effect but with a more potent and mysterious atmosphere, enhanced by haunting vocal samples and richer instrumentation. It’s not surprising that this was one of the “unselected” ambient works left off the original release.
The third new release on the expanded edition, “Rhubarb Orc. 19.53 Rev,” serves as a fitting outro to the entire album. It is a stunning orchestral rendition of “#3 / Rhubarb,” a track already evocative in its original form. A sprawling string section and a delicate, glitchy reverse effect provide the foundation for a celestial choir, whose vocals lift us from the empty depths in which closing tracks like “#24 / White Blur 2” and “#25 / Matchsticks” left listeners.
Unlike the minimalist serenity of the original “#3 / Rhubarb,” this orchestral version is far more emotionally explicit, with a clearer sense of musical movement and intensity. The two versions are almost entirely distinct in feeling. It’s one of the rare moments in James’ discography where he leans into something this overtly dramatic or emotive, but the move works beautifully in this context.
Alongside the new music, the expanded edition also saw new physical releases, which include new personal notes from James about “#3 / Rhubarb.” He dedicates the track to his mother, explaining: “My mum gave me so much love, dedicated her life to me, filled me to the brim with confidence and somehow managed to be a nurse at the same time.”
He also added, “I still meet them in my dreams regularly and have relaxing normal chats about nothing in particular, I'm going to see if all three of us can listen to this track [“Rhubarb”] next time we meet up.” This personal note stands out in the context of an album often regarded as detached or otherworldly and also for a figure who is often enigmatic and secretive about his personal life.
Thirty years after its initial release, Volume II remains a defining album in the ambient genre, and has been hailed as a masterclass in the electronic genre. Though Volume II wasn’t universally praised in its time, it has influenced artists ranging from Radiohead (notably on their album Kid A) to Timbaland. The 30th anniversary edition not only reintroduces listeners to its strange, dreamlike soundscapes, but also offers new material that expands its already vast sonic world.
In an era dominated by hyper-visibility and constant self-promotion, James’ persona stands out as being uniquely bizarre, rebellious and mysterious. His enigmatic presence and innovative sound continue to captivate listeners, proving that some music — like the best lucid dreams — remains timeless.
