The coexistence of these two books – Dream Machines and Futuromania – published on the same day and sharing precisely four words in their full titles, isn’t quite grounds for Omnibus and/or White Rabbit to launch an inquiry into who the mole on the inside is, leaking classified info to rivals. They definitely cover a lot of the same subject matter, though.

Dream Machines is a chronological history of UK-based musical innovation using synthesisers and (later) digital technology – it traces back as far as the late 1940s and concludes with a potted summary of breakbeat hardcore, but Doctor Who and acid house presumably have a readier audience – and Futuromania is a collection of articles by Simon Reynolds on electronic music (much though not all of it British) and its attendant culture, previously published between the late 1980s and late 2010s.

Reynolds has long been one of the senior journalistic voices on this sort of music, able to describe its excitement (and his own) evocatively as well as knowledgeably, and imposes more of his personality and idiosyncrasies onto these pieces than does Matthew Collin. The latter author, who interviewed dozens of sources for Dream Machines and quotes liberally from dozens more, writes at a little more of a reserve, and with a level tone. Futuromania’s content spans 30 years and several publications, so not only has Reynolds’ writing evolved over time, it’s also tailored to various readerships’ sensibilities. This makes the book as a whole uneven, but arguably more interesting for that, such as a game effort to sell acid house to Melody Maker readers circa 1988 by shoehorning in mentions of bands like Dinosaur Jr.

o

What Collin lacks in leftfield comparisons or fanciful analogies he makes up for in thoroughness. Dream Machines affords space to nearly everything I can think of qualifying as ‘electronic music in Britain’ within the given period: as well as chart-topping acts like Hawkwind, The Human League and (yes) the Beatles, there are more-than-passing mentions for the likes of Zorch, Whitehouse and the mid-80s hi-NRG boom. His intro acknowledges that progression continued into the 90s and beyond, but for ruminations on jungle, grime, IDM or dubstep, turn to Futuromania, which includes chapters on each (or an example of each, such as misleadingly named solo jungle producer Omni Trio or semi-mysterious dubstep icon Burial).

Beyond these shores, or in some cases attributed to no fixed location or nation, Reynolds revives illuminating pieces of yore on Donna Summer’s I Feel Love, German techno producer Wolfgang Voigt, and the influence of Auto-tune on pop music, explained with a technological detail rare in his writing.