Around that time, Doseone, the cLOUDDEAD member who guested on Appleseed’s final track, “Odessa,” had become an A&R for Mush, a small Cincinnati studio-turned-label that had put out a number of cLOUDDEAD 10-inches. In 1999, Dose approached Aes and brokered a one-album deal, the details of which were outlined in a simple three-page contract. Aes had always been skeptical of labels; why sign anything that would probably never pay the bills and ultimately complicate the fun of making music? But, given the homespun success of his first two projects, the chance to have someone else cover the cost of full-color artwork was persuasive. “I had about 20 songs,” he said in a 2007 interview with Caught in the Crossfire. “I thought, ‘Yeah, let’s just put them all on there,’ and that was the first official record.”
There’s a ramshackle, lo-fi charm to Float that feels immediate, as if each new thought that crossed through Aes’ mind instantly breaks containment. He and Blockhead, who produced about half the record (Aes himself provided the other half), recorded the album on a Roland VS-880 digital workstation, a budget-friendly studio-in-a-box that’s nonetheless a slight step up from a cassette four-track. Both Aes and Blockhead (and Omega One, who contributed the beat for “Skip Town”) composed on ASR-10 samplers but didn’t separate the stems of their beats, bouncing everything as a stereo mix. Aes tracked his vocals without a stand, gripping a Shure SM-58, the stalwart, affordable mic found at every live venue, in his fist. There’s a tinny resonance coating Aes’ rich voice, and plosives abound, suggesting loose, shambling sessions shot through with a frantic, wide-eyed energy.
It’s an overwhelming album. Aes fills nearly every space with words, emphasizing specific lines with infinite layers of his voice and ad-libs zipping around in the background like agitated bees. There’s almost no breathing room, save for Blockhead’s three instrumental interludes, but even those—especially “Dinner With Blockhead,” a somersaulting bandoneon loop perforated by tear-the-club-up drums—are packed to the gills.