Knowing that this is a collection of music from previous EPs (and then some) makes the joyous and erratic beauty present all that more enjoyable. David Edwards knows what he wants to do with his music: there's not a moment of sound that isn't somehow strangely beautiful, sweetly smooth, or surprisingly fluid. Instruments come together in flirtatious ways and rhythm excuses itself from predictability to usher in the kind of melodic surprises that early electronic bands managed to pull out of their hat through variation in repetition.
"Don't Be A Slave To No Computer" clicks and bubbles with the kind of percussive pillow-noise and sizzling, seemingly random, and jumpy melodies that makes programmed music sound so human. There's a daring glimmer in their souls that suggests caution but favors the extremes and the rawness of jumping into the middle of a power that can't be controlled. "Let Me Out" grinds with the sound of aquatic organs and forests bathed in silver, the electronic sounds becoming tangible and sensuous instead of alienating, industrial, and altogether cold. The middle portion of Rinse (tracks five through eight) have a more digital sound, but don't suffer for it. The cut up pieces of live percussion mix well with the horn-like synthesizers on "The Downs" while "Albert Park Music" rolls along the tunnels of abandoned highways with hidden pianos and omnipresent percussion. The only thing suffering here is the relatively straight-forward pop music emerging out this section of the album; the stuttering and awkward time signatures that made the first part sound so fresh are absent and replaced with a sound that almost sounds geared toward a live performance with instrumental musicians. This is how the album ends, on something of a slick note. I'm a fan of the raw and unpredictable, so I'm not so inclined to enjoy the relaxed vocals on "Lady Came from Baltic Wharf" or the easy-going flutes on "Rockpoolin'," but the music is no less remarkable for that.
samples:
Read More
