Jega
Geometry
[Matador]
Rating: 6.5
There's an old quip that writing about art is like dancing about architecture.
(Yes, that old thing.) Well, Jega went to architecture school with µ-ziq and
Aphex Twin, so he'd know more about that than most. Unsurprisingly, Jega
sounds not unlike his better-known classmates. Falling squarely into the
this-is-techno-but-don't-dance-to-it camp, Dylan Nathan tics and quirks like
any addled British gent with too much time, an ugly beard (I presume) and an
808 should. But, distinguishing him from the rest of the "Look, ma! I'm a
genius" dance music crowd, Nathan clearly took better notes in architecture
than the rest of the IDM crowd ever bothered to.
Far more than his stateside debut, Spectrum, Jega's Geometry is
preoccupied with questions of space. The record opens with a vast humming
sound, as if Nathan were demonstrating how big a space he's working in by
recording a huge wind rushing through it. Though the first appearance of
actual music diminishes that scale down to the humble bleeps and clicks of
"Alternating Bit," a caustic little digibyte of electro-inspired troublemaking,
every piece here is as carefully thought out as a building might be.
Principally, Geometry supplants the fury and blistering speed of the
first few Jega offerings with a glassy, almost pretty surface. Where the last
record took a page from Squarepusher's relentless, haywire jitteriness, many
pieces here sound like Philip Glass with a shorter attention span and no
interest in opera. Keyboards slither between, over and under beats; songs
move with almost mathematic precision (Geometry, get it?). If the
last Jega album, as some pundits remarked, invented drill-n-bass, this is
"chill-n-bass." This isn't the chamber-music transcendence of Aphex Twin's
slower moments; it's a gorgeous absense of feeling. The tracks work like
clockwork and with approximately as much emotional commitment. And just
because it won't make you cry doesn't mean you won't nod your head.
Still, anyone who's looking to techno like this stuff for matters of the
heart is missing the point. The stuttering beats and languid melodies at
once conceal and describe the undergirdings beneath them, making
Geometry a fascinating, if not moving, musical experience. This
is music about the experience of listening to music. It's like singing
about dancing about architecture.
-Sam Eccleston