Pitchfork

Again, Richard James travels to his past-- if not to save the future, then at least to save extravagantly for it. The Aphex Twin mastermind's first project since 2001's perplexing Drukqs started promisingly enough, albeit expensively, with the 40 quid Analord 10 last December. However, subsequent offerings in this procession of 12-inches have raised disconcerting questions: Why is one of the 90s most enduring electronic musicians splitting so much time between 80s electro and the sound of his own early-career Analogue Bubblebath efforts? Is he washed up, or just acid-washed? Taking us to the cleaners?

As of the sixth, seventh, and eight Analord installments, James seems more TB-303 now than man, twisted and primeval. These insistent, repetitive analogue compositions are almost perversely anachronistic, a robot curled up in the fetal position rather than the conqueror of new colonies we'd once come to expect. The multi-layered beats of Drukqs persist, but the glistening melodies that set apart the Twin's finest work are, after burbling just beneath the surface of some early Analord tracks, all too infrequent in this batch.

Much of Analord 6 will be familiar to anyone who's heard its predecessors. "Batine Acid" plies rote acid lines with intermittent spookiness, "Snivel Chew" adds sawtooth synths and rapid handclaps, and "2 Analogue Talks" at least mixes things up with squeaky, high-pitched scales giving way to the monotonous, clock-like donging of what sounds like a horn sample. Standout "I'm Self Employed" suggests that whatever James is up to, he's not just going through the motions-- at least not always. Fragile, lonely melodies and countermelodies reminiscent of his ambient works build into a rust-eyed chorus and actually take it somewhere.

Analord 7 kicks off with the (deceptively?) straightforward acid-house of "Lisbon Acid", which bloops, thumps, fuzzes, squelches, and ultimately meanders for an entire side. The echoey off-key synths of "Pitcard" start and stop on a dime, which is better than a nickel (worth more, too!). The "AFX Acid 04" evokes almost an acid remix of Spoon's "I Turn My Camera On" with its slinky changes and martial pace, before giving way to ominously discordant skarronking.

The tracks on Analord 8 are named for computer viruses, likely in an effort to discourage file-sharers. Then again, the pieces might have been so named because a few are among the series' most infectious so far. Awash in disco hi-hats, "PWSteal.Ldpinch.D" beckons with the type of decidedly non-digital lust, come-hither bass line, and slightly detuned hooks that a Kylie Minogue could have taken upchart. Blippy "W32.Deadcode.A" is almost as good once the bridge arrives like a between-storms rainbow. "Backdoor.Berbew.Q", meanwhile, rises and subsides with a burbling bass and choir-like synth chords, and "Backdoor.Spyboter.A" unfolds similarly over pings and more handclaps, but neither really goes anywhere. That's the disappointing crux of James's current collection of never-awful but rarely remarkable noodlings.