Birth has endowed Kieran Hebden with the gaunt, lanky physique and sunken, refined features of a heroin addict, or perhaps a serial killer. With his prominent cheekbones, hollowed eye sockets, wispy hair and skeletal profile, he's the sort of character you might expect to see performing self-laceration at a Black Heart Procession show. But outward appearances don't always count for much (this is why girls still talk to me), and Hebden's grave façade belies one of the warmest and gentlest voices in the world of electronic music.

A graduate of the guitar scene, Hebden has fronted the London post-rock outfit Fridge since its inception in 1997. The following year, he ventured off alone to release his first record under the Four Tet nom de guerre, and he's been juggling both projects ever since. His solo efforts have yielded three singles, remixes for Pole, David Holmes and Aphex Twin, and now two full-length albums.

On Pause, Four Tet taps a musical vein similar to the sound of his first longplayer, Dialogue. Hebden has a talent for mining lush, organic songs from synthetic tools, and his laptop leaves only faint traces of its digital imprint on his music's mellow acoustic samples.

The material on Dialogue scarcely revealed any electronic influence; the songs sounded "played" rather than "produced," with only subtle hints to the contrary. The "Glasshead" single, which followed later the same year, announced Four Tet's leftfield leanings with more conviction. The incredible b-side, "Calamine (Radio Mix)," culminated in a wall of distorted static noise, evocative of Mogwai's "Superheroes of BMX."

Though the two tracks on the Glasshead 12" seemed to herald a bold departure from the softer sounds of Dialogue, Pause actually retreats a few steps, stylistically falling somewhere between its two predecessors. Four Tet's latest effort combines the buoyant attitude of his first LP with the more pronounced production techniques of the subsequent single, producing enjoyable but occasionally unexciting results.

Though he runs in the same circles as noise terrorist and fellow Domino artist Max Tundra, Hebden seldom shies away from accessibility in his work. Pause is full of feel-good grooves that reminisce of American R&B; artists like Missy Elliot and Destiny's Child, both of whom Four Tet proudly cites as influences (alongside Thomas Brinkmann and Autechre, naturally). The record's complexities are abundant, but at times painstakingly obvious. The melodies are moving, the beats big, and the basslines breathtaking; but some of the tracks suffer from shallowness, and their long-play value does not compare to Hebden's previous work.

The subtlety is most sorely missed on "Everything is Alright," a remarkably catchy tune that stops giving at some point after the second or third listen. An upbeat arrangement of freshly sampled snares, tympanis, acoustic guitar and piano, the piece recalls even measures of Robert Miles and Amon Tobin. But what you hear is what you get-- there's no substance beneath the surface, and this song swiftly grows stale. "Hilarious Movie of the 90's," a clever joint that hinges on a sample of a CD skipping (a la Les Savy Fav's "Dishonest Don, Pt. II"), scores higher on the novelty scale, but still comes up short in the depth department.

Despite my over-zealous scrutiny of Pause's faults, the album's peaks far overshadow the mediocrity of its troughs. Tracks like "Untangle" and "You Could Ruin My Day" witness Four Tet at the height of his game, peppering his sumptuous signature melodies with enough psychedelic chicanery to keep listeners' brains at bay.

"Untangle" sounds like Herbert with the handbrake on-- it's a bouncy but restrained two-step piece, carefully garnished with tiny, sliced-up string samples. "You Could Ruin My Day" pays tribute to DJ Shadow's "Napalm Brain/Scatter Brain" with a richly textured seven-minute opus. The song putts about purposelessly for several minutes, while the orchestra primes itself in the pit, then erupts into a velvety cyclone of swirling strings and silky strumming, underpinned by a driving bassline and crisp, staccato breaks.

When Hebden steps into form, the results are nothing short of stunning, and when he slips, he never falls too far. Even Pause's worst moments make for pleasant listening; but only a handful of songs on this album approach the edgy genius of "Glasshead" or the nuanced euphoria of Dialogue. When measured against Four Tet's prior output, this latest effort does come as something of a disappointment; but by most other yardsticks, it's downright brilliant.

-Malcolm Seymour III