William Orbit’s first band, Torch Song, was a curious business. They maintained one foot in the pop mainstream—their biggest success arrived when a track featured on the soundtrack of the Tom Hanks-starring sex comedy Bachelor Party—and another in the left field, recording at London’s anarchist hub, Centro Iberico. In the late 80s, Orbit produced a series of mainstream pop remixes for artists like Belinda Carlisle, while simultaneously releasing the first in his series of solo Strange Cargo albums. Orbit’s first Strange Cargo album seemed like a curio: an outlier in the pop landscape of 1987. Its beatless synth-drifts and instrumental dance tracks sounded like the work of a man subconsciously waiting for acid house to happen. When it did, Orbit plunged in headfirst.
Augmented by vocalist Sharon Musgrave and rapper MC Inna Onestep, Orbit’s new dance project had some odd ideas, a house version of Pink Floyd’s Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun among them, but their big hit—a Top 10 success in the autumn of 1990—was a breakbeat-fuelled, dub-tinged dance-pop anthem. Again, it sounds very much of its era 36 years on, but that’s part of its charm: Fascinating Rhythm exudes the bright-hued, saucer-eyed optimism that dance music brought to the British charts in the years immediately after the Second Summer of Love. By 1993, the project made a lot more sense.
In a sense, it is a little cheeky including the Clubfield mix of Intoxication in a list of Orbit’s best tracks. His involvement with the music seems a little tangential—he is credited with “vocal samples”—and besides, this version is all about Leftfield’s remix. But no survey of Orbit’s career would be complete without mention of Guerilla Records, the progressive house label he co-founded in 1990, which released Intoxication, alongside classics by Spooky, DOP and the Drum Club. The music had developed a fresh sense of focus, as evidenced by the opening track of Strange Cargo III. With vocals by Orbit’s then-girlfriend Beth Orton, Water from a Vine Leaf was the definitive sound of the era.
One Dove’s Morning Dove White was the post-club soundtrack of 1993—a beautiful, Andrew Weatherall-produced blur of dub, dreamy electronics and girl-group influenced heartbreak—before becoming the great lost dance album of the early 90s: all-back-to-mine ubiquity ultimately didn’t translate into chart success. It was the kind of music that felt deeply personal. Orbit and Orton had a lengthy and fruitful musical partnership that outlasted their romantic relationship; they released a version of John Martyn’s Don’t Want to Know About Evil as Spill in 1992 and were still collaborating on Orbit’s final album, The Painter. Orbit recorded his own version of their co-authored song She Cries Your Name on his 1995 Strange Cargo album Hinterland, but it is Orton’s take—the opening track on her fabulous Weatherall-produced breakthrough album Trailer Park—that remains the definitive version.
The most famous of Orbit’s solo albums, Pieces in a Modern Style, saw him reworking classical music at the suggestion of label boss Rob Dickins: a pretty ghastly idea on paper, but one that Orbit made work. A trance remix of Barber’s Adagio for Strings by Ferry Corsten propelled the track into the UK Top 5: ageing Gatecrasher kids would doubtless disagree, but the original, which gently warps Barber’s 1936 piece into nine minutes of soft-focus but sorrowful ambience, is a masterpiece. Madonna employed Orbit as a producer and co-songwriter on 1998’s Ray of Light after being impressed by remixes he’d done of Justify My Love and Erotica. In reality, it was a triumph: a brilliant distillation of Orbit’s skill as a producer of what would then have been called “chillout” music into a perfect pop format, infinitely hipper and more sophisticated than your average British girl group track of the time.
There’s a distinct note of what-if about the two tracks Orbit produced for inclusion on U2’s greatest hits album, The Best of 1990-2000. Orbit’s mainstream success in the late 90s and early 2000s had unfortunate consequences. He became a blue-chip songwriter/producer for hire in LA, working with No Doubt, Britney Spears and Chris Brown among others, an experience he didn’t much enjoy. He later admitted he was “done in physically” and had to consult a “psychiatrist” because he had “totally lost sight of its potential.” Reuniting with Madonna on 2012’s MDNA noticeably failed to recapture the magic of Ray of Light. The industry grind had clearly taken its toll on his creative spirit during those years.
When he re-emerged in 2021, it was as a solo artist: a Guardian profile depicted him “fizzing with enthusiasm” about his new music, excitement borne out by his final album The Painter. William Orbit, the visionary pop producer for Madonna, All Saints and more, died aged 69, leaving behind a legacy that bridged the gap between underground electronic experimentation and the global pop charts. His ability to weave complex textures into accessible melodies ensured that his influence would resonate long after his passing, cementing his status as one of the most significant producers of his generation. The report also notes that the sessions for 13 were an intense and occasionally punishing experience: as the band were falling apart, Albarn likened Orbit’s role to that of a “psychiatrist”, as with the making of Ray of Light. The report also notes that danny Boyle would only include All Saints on the soundtrack of his film adaptation of Alex Garland’s The Beach if Orbit agreed to produce their track: the pressure to come up with something caused the producer to expend.
