Benjamin Finger's fractured and skittering first release for Digitalis is not entirely without precedent, as he previously dabbled with techno beats a bit on 2010's For You, Sleepsleeper, but it is still quite a departure from the dreamy, hallucinatory soundscapes that I normally associate with him.  As far as departures go, I would say Mood Chaser is quite a good one, as Finger successfully translates his skewed psychedelic sensibility into a disorienting and kaleidoscopic dance party.  Though it is perhaps a bit too over-caffeinated to quite stand with his best work, this is certainly an exuberant, weird, and fun effort in its own right.
The best description of Mood Chaser that I can come up with is that it is like being talked into going out to a club by some friends even though I have an extremely high fever and no longer have a firm grasp on either reality or the passing of time.  Also, the DJ at the club has been unknowingly drugged and is sleepily, deliriously changing tempos abruptly, playing songs backwards, choosing the wrong speed, and accidentally playing multiple songs on top of one another.  The overall effect, of course, is quite surreal and disorienting in the extreme: one moment I am happily dancing to a thumping house beat, but in the next, time has suddenly slowed to a crawl and I feel like I am underwater or floating through space.  It is quite a neat illusion, though it tends to work best when Finger transports me furthest from the dance floor.  From a listenability standpoint, the album highlight is probably "Nicotin Weather," which is a largely beatless piece built upon pulsing, droning synths and a bleary haze of sometimes chopped and looped choral vocals.
From a sheer lunacy standpoint, however, Mood Chaser offers quite a few highlights of a different sort.  "Elfin Geezer" is probably the most deranged of the lot, as it sounds simultaneously backwards, skipping, hyperactive, and possibly falling apart, then throws an insistent acoustic guitar strum into the mix.  Other stand-outs include the stuttering, underwater electropop of "Odd Infinitum;" the gnarled, dissolving techno of "Saguaro Cactus," and the lysergic, everything-happening-at-once entropy of the opening "Dwarf Palms."  In fact, every piece on Mood Chaser is quite strange and compelling in some way, as Finger admirably avoided both any filler and any oasis of relative normalcy.  As a whole, this is a remarkably well-crafted album: Benjamin always maintains a propulsive sense of momentum and displays an impressive intuition regarding how far out he can go or how long a given theme should last.  While it is not a particularly short album, it feels like one in the best possible way–kind of like a great ride at an amusement park ("Wow- it's over already?  Let's do it again!").Although it lacks the sustained, enveloping beauty that characterizes Finger's best work, such comparisons are somewhat irrelevant, as Mood Chaser is chasing after something different entirely.  It is hard to say exactly what that something might have been, but it certainly makes for a wild and entertaining departure: this is Benjamin Finger’s party album.
 
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