Pitchfork

At some point in the mid-90s, Richard D. James transformed from an inconsistent but frequently mindblowing producer of electronic music into his scene's icon. As the interested came to know him, the man behind the Aphex Twin was a half-cracked mastermind who, unlike most out-there eccentrics in pop music mythology, managed to have the world by the balls. He sold his tracks to advertisements, bragged about shagging his French girlfriend, remixed for cash, and had modern music giants like Philip Glass ringing up his apartment/bank vault to arrange collaborations. Not that he could hear the phone-- he was too busy tooling around the countryside in his tank.

Through all the craziness, James still found a way to channel the sound he heard in his head into records, at least one of which every listener seems to love. With his fascinating and often conveniently unverifiable backstory, he was a music critic's dream, sliding easily into deeply cut grooves where the genius is always young and the talent is irrepressible.

One component of his legend has worked strongly in James' favor, particularly in the latter years: Because his childlike antics suggested he'd do anything for a laff, his work always contains at least one "just kidding" link in its DNA strand. So if a track sucked, it was, by default, because James was either lazy or having some fun-- not because he couldn't do better if he wanted to. After all, he has hundreds of brilliant tracks socked away somewhere that he can't be bothered to release. Why would he deliberately put out something that was just OK?

Why, indeed? People wondered what James was up to after the 2001 release Drukqs, and there was some speculation that it was a contract fulfillment a la Prince's The Vault/Old Friends 4 Sale. It wasn't that Drukqs was bad, exactly, just that it seemed uninterested in breaking new ground, which was unusual considering the bold strokes to which the Aphex Twin audience had grown accustomed. James still did Aphex Twin better than anyone, but after his prolific 90s, that was no longer enough. Now, four quiet years later, he returns with a new series of 12-inches, dusting off his old Analogue Bubblebath handle AFX in honor of the vintage synths used to craft the Analord material. The records will be issued in 10 volumes, to be housed in a binder sold with the set.

The key word for Analord is "acid." James has the archetypal gurgly 303 working overtime throughout, crunching out the melody on the upbeat "Where's Your Girlfriend?", letting the layered tendrils of squelch crawl over each other like a pit of electric-powered snakes in the mid-track breakdown. The bouncier "Grumpy Acid" fulfils the promise of its excellent title by sounding like the amplified gastric system of a robot badly in need of Pepto Bismol. "Steppingfilter 101" is mid-tempo mellow, with gentle synth pads floating behind the zig-zag buzz out front. It's a seriously retro sound, channeling precisely one offshoot of early "classic" IDM. If an unknown had released the tracks on Analord 1 in 1995, he would have been accused of straight ripping the AFX acid style. But James pioneered this sound, so I guess he has the right to return to it if he chooses.

Analord 2 is a little better, keeping the same palate while toning down the tired acid textures and delivering more melody. The tuneful "Phonatacid" isn't exactly riveting, but it does manage to undergo some interesting transformations over its nearly 10-minute length. "Laricheard" references the famed Chicago house pioneer Larry Heard in its title but is the most drifting and contemplative track here. It all sounds nice enough, but no one introduced to James with these tracks would be compelled to investigate further.

It's possible that as additional volumes of Analord are issued, these initial records will make sense in the larger context. Perhaps this is the Back to the Future phase of the project, where James revisits where he's been with AFX before taking us somewhere new. More than anything it's difficult to believe that the hyperactive and easily bored James could have kept himself entertained working on these pieces, which boldly go where so many (most notably the man himself) have gone before.