I just don't get the whole Chicago thing. Admittedly, the most I've done to further my understanding is watch "Behind the Music: Chicago," and I guess that doesn't really count. But the music that comes from the city itself, by and large, eludes me. Right now, my colleagues, many of whom themselves hail from the house John McEntire built, are gasping and typing out a list of albums I need to buy if I want to stick around here much longer. I'm certain that Daniel Givens' Age is not among them.

Givens is another one of those ambitious fellas who fancies himself a DJ, artist, photographer, writer, etc. He makes music that touches on jazz, spoken word, drum-n-bass, world music, dub, and "music's yet to be named." I know. Actually, it's not quite as bad as that sounds. But it's not too far from it, either.

The music on Age follows a fairly simple, if consistently disorienting pattern. Most of the tracks are based around drum parts or looped fragments of drum parts played by Givens himself. Often, the loop is centered on an off-beat so that the rhythm of the loop takes on a tumbling quality with no discernable time signature or downbeat. Other times, the beat steadily chugs but is kept by a seemingly random series of drum sounds.

This unique approach is somewhat refreshing and comparable to few, besides maybe Tricky. But frustration begins to set in when the accompaniment is similarly unstructured and numbingly repetitive. Atonal xylophone and vibraphone stabs tinkle around aimlessly while droning synth lines stretch themselves across entire tracks. Occasionally, however, the components, if not the results, can be appealing, as with the strangely rattling quality of Josh Abrams' upright bass on "No Visible Color."

Givens sticks largely to instrumental sound, but ventures to vocalize a few unfortunate times on Age. The opener, "Allies," contains such gems of pretension as, "I pass on the secret of man/ Expand love from heart to hand/ Holding on to the flame/ Not the blame." His monotonous absence of flow does nothing to flatter the loose, awkward rhymes he spouts. Elsewhere, vocals by Funsho Akerele-Ale hardly fare better, with heaving, pseudo-soulful half-singing propping up the dull "Never Worship Earth."

Surprisingly, the most rewarding listen comes with the album's longest track, the eighteen-minute "Acknowledgement." For the first half, it seems like an endurance test of all of the album's most annoying traits. But finally, the noodling rests and a simple xylophone line repeats itself over a relaxed ambience of flute and harmonica. Arty Chicago cohort Jeff Parker (of Tortoise and Isotope 217) lends a spare guitar line for a transition into yet another section of the piece ruled by popping, muffled jazz drumming. After a couple minutes of chaos, it shrinks away into a few seconds of light, fading textures for the most satisfactory resolution of any track on the album.

But if Givens' music falls short of any preconceived goal, it's okay. After all, he does have his writing to fall back on. And his art. And his spoken word. And his photography...

-Al Shipley