A number of traditional literary critics took issue with the title of Dave Eggers' recent memoir, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. This humorless minority's major contention was that the title's irony was so transparent as to be reflexively self-praising. But, assuming one can't fault these curmudgeons for their staunch modernism (or staunch anti-postmodernism)-- and that would be a dubious assumption-- one can certainly criticize them for lacking patience. If one managed to wade through the self-referential, pomo tangents (which, admittedly, are cumbersome at times) then he or she would likely find that Eggers' story is indeed heartbreaking and well-written, if not quite a work of genius.

Were Abrasive Stuttering to make it onto a bestseller list, perhaps Salvo Beta's Sean Wolfe would be faced with a similar backlash. While not in danger of being considered self-praise, Abrasive Stuttering is an equally impudent and ironic title of an equally postmodern, deconstructionist debut work. Like Eggers, we can almost see Wolfe winking from just behind the title page. But this backlash will never be leveled against Wolfe for the obvious reason: very few people will buy a record called Abrasive Stuttering.

As if punching the joke home, this 73-minute album takes exactly three seconds to live up to its title. Think of it as channel surfing on DirecTV at thirty channels per second. Fortunately, Wolfe doesn't overkill the joke, and "Loader" soon moves into a raw, electronic beat that drones, then grinds in a manner not dissimilar from the raucous work of Alec Empire. What Wolfe realizes that Empire doesn't, however, is that one can only take such an assault for so long before epilepsy sets in. Thus, "Eating the Last Marshmallow" slows the pace with an unpredictable, but hardly schizophrenic jungle beat. Not that this track will put you at ease; the random voices, drill-like interjections and other foreign sounds are enough to keep your spine erect and your brain fearful.

With "The Gritting Chase of Salvo Beta," the album returns to drill-n-bass mode, but soon spills over into a funky breakbeat reminiscent of Mouse on Mars. The next number, "Curl," rides on a repetitive, bouncy beat that one might actually be able to dance to if it weren't for the creepy voices emerging from behind the processed bongos. Abrasive Stuttering continues shifting gears, moving from an almost hip-hop track, "Shift," to "Network," an 11-minute ambient movement that, as much as you're now prepared for it, never breaks open. Salvo Beta reminds us why IDM is, in many ways, a misleading designation: this type of music plays with your head so much as to leave one temporarily-- and in the hands of someone competent enough-- blissfully dumb.

But Salvo Beta isn't always competent. While certainly fresh and unique when considered among some of the other subgenres of electronica, Wolfe isn't quite as engaging as his obvious influences (Mouse on Mars, Aphex Twin, Kid 606, the Orb, Autechre). For one thing, his union of the pleasant and the abrasive is decidedly lopsided in favor of the latter, perhaps another reason is that Salvo Beta isn't just impudent, but defiantly so. Unlike those other artists-- and like Dave Eggers-- Wolfe doesn't always know when to stop, pull back, or speed up. Thus, the arresting moments and solely abrasive ones are constantly butting up against each other. Then there's the issue of the last quarter of the album, which is largely comprised of unexceptional drones and random electronic shivers.

Titles like A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Abrasive Stuttering could be considered copouts; the irony acts as a safety net. "Of course it's not 'heartbreaking,'" Eggers might say. "And of course I'm not a 'staggering genius.' That's the joke!" Or, in the case of Sean Wolfe: "I told you it was 'abrasive stuttering.' It's not like I lied." But what saves these works of art from such easy derision is that they're as true as they are untrue. Unfortunately, this works more in Eggers' favor than it does Wolfe's.

-Ryan Kearney