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Ekoplekz, "Unfidelity"
Despite constantly encountering his many guises in The Wire and elsewhere, I never actually got around to investigating the extremely prolific Nick Edwards until now.  As usual, however, my timing is almost supernaturally perfect, as his first effort for Planet Mu is being rather unanimously hailed as his creative zenith.  I cannot vouch for that myself, but Unfidelity is certainly a very cool album, sounding like an especially hallucinatory strand of dub techno mingled with a deep appreciation for kitsch and absurdist fun.
The most appealing single aspect of Unfidelity is Edward's almost childlike glee in coaxing wonky sounds out of his gear.  That singular aesthetic is not the only appealing aspect of Unfidelity, but it is definitely its most memorable trait and easily eclipses the actual songs.  Maybe "songs" should be in quotation marks, actually, as these 11 pieces are more like beat-based soundscapes than anything resembling structured songs with hooks.  Then again, pieces like the opening "Trace Elements" do not need hooks because they are hooks: Edward's clanking and complex Aphex Twin-style beat would be infectious no matter matter what he put on top of it.  In this case, he embellishes it with a winkingly ominous synth progession and a host of whooshing and blooping sounds that recall the BBC Radiophonic Workshop.  Such sounds are not usually my favorite thing, but they are perfectly at home in Ekoplekz's kooky world of cartoonish menace.
In general, the pieces with the strongest beats are the better ones and it is quite reasonable to describe Unfidelity as 11 variations on a single, simple theme.  However, that theme is almost invariably a compellingly executed one.  While it is probably best experienced in smaller doses than an entire album, Edwards certainly tries like hell to keep his formula vibrant and unpredictable with a production tour de force of various buzzes and echoing sounds that pan and clatter all over the place.  Aside from "Elements," some other rhythmic stand-outs are the relentlessly stomping and skittering "Pressure Level" and the "frightened heartbeat pulse" of "Nerva Beacon," though the album is certainly littered with a number of other appealingly squelching and clattering motifs.
The best pieces on Unfidelity, however, are the few where Nick manages to improbably wring genuine pathos out of his amiable retrofuturist bag of tricks.  One such highlight is "Tuning Out," which gradually builds its sizzling, melancholy swells and constantly morphing beat into a snowballing, complexly multilayered thing of beauty.  The title piece is similarly dazzling, augmenting its warm, gently flanging shimmer with an appealingly languorous bass line and an endearing array of echoing bleeps and bonks.
Contrary to the normal state of affairs, those two great pieces do not feel like an exasperating glimpse into what could have been an even better effort.  Instead, they feel like well-placed crests in a distinctive and intelligently sequenced album.  My sole real critique of Unfidelity is that a little of Ekoplekz goes a long way due to the limited palette employed, but Nick has definitely succeeded in crafting a very unusual and fun album that boasts a handful of great singles.  Actually. I suppose "singles" should maybe be in quotes too, since there are not a hell of a lot of radio stations that would play something this willfully eccentric and niche, but they are damn good songs regardless.
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