It borders on the cliché to refer to electronic music-especially that composed before the advent of digital synthesis and the all-pervasive Musical Instrument Digital Interface (MIDI)-as bleep-bloop music. But, it cannot be denied, there was a lot of bleeping and blooping going on well into the 1970's. The academic world was awash in the jittering goings on at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center in New York, and other such places, from which the likes of Charles Wuorinen's Pulitzer Prize winning Time's Encomium were produced. Don't get me wrong, a good bleep and the odd bloop now and again does a body good, but it is always a delight to discover composers such as Morton Subotnick who defy all clichés and head off into unknown territory. This 1994 release of two of Subotnick's earliest recorded compositions is, therefore, a rare treat. Oddly packaged as part of Wergo Music's Music with Computers series (no one had ever heard of Computer Music in 1967), are Silver Apples of the Moon, a composition originally commissioned and released by Nonesuch Records, and the mythically titled 1968 composition, The Wild Bull. Composed and recorded using the now rare, albeit famous, Buchla synthesizer (or Electric Music Box as its designer, Donald Buchla preferred to call it), these compositions display Subotnick's talent for creating a personalized electronic music that is at once challenging, haunting, kinetic, engaging, sad, contemplative and immanently engrossing. His music ranges from pensive to frantic in mood and even manages to swing a bit along the way (in Subotnick's inimitable style, of course). Those not prepared for Subotnick's unique voice may find these titles a bit dense, foreign even, but they are never overbearingly strident, even when they are engaged in the electronic music equivalent of hand-to-hand combat. Evoking simultaneously the Electronic Tonalities of Louis and Bebe Baron's unforgettable Forbidden Planet soundtrack from 1956, to the ancient wail of a Sumerian beast of mythology, one must not approach these recordings lightly. Do not expect any Switched on Bach doodlings here, Subotnick and the instrument he helped design were never ones for imitation or interpretation. This is the real deal (with a little bleeping and blooping thrown in for good measure!). The recording itself was digitally restored and remixed by Michael Hoenig, himself an electronic musician of the 1970's German school, ala Klaus Schulze and Tangerine Dream, and is crisp and clean. Missing, perhaps, is a touch of the warm mystery of the original vinyl pressings; however, these recordings are essentially faithful to the originals. Highly recommended for the musically adventurous.