Nothing is hazier than the fine line between good ambient music and bad. With so little to actually base an opinion on-- mere sweeping tones and lazy drum tracks-- goodness and badness often boil down to pure opinion. And this, my friends, is the reviewer's art. We spend inordinate amounts of time agonizing over band members, labels and producers, and scrutinize to the last note for you, the eager public. With no way to direct your spending dollars, the gauntlet falls on us to protect your wallets and determine what is, as they say, "cool." It is a heavy burden we carry, and it's all for you.

Some time ago, Akumu came to me. Housed in a deliciously designed digipak that delighted my aesthetic sense, I was initially hopeful. However, the record has since languished in my player, often played but rarely lingered upon. Despite many listens-- intently and as background music-- it has failed to make any impression that could be even called an opinion. I find myself bound in my duty, yet I forge onward.

It was with little remorse that I recently gave up my copy of the Chillout Phase II compilation for a mere $2, and if Akumu is any indication, little has changed in the six years since that collection was released.

Akumu possesses plenty of sharp instrumentation, jazzy flourishes and moments of uptempo techno/drum-n-bass, but if most tracks seem longer than they actually are, it's only because they fail to progress into anything more than a hearty yawn. Not what one would necessarily call "opinion inspiring," if you know what I'm saying. "Drum 'n' Drummer," one of the more energetic vignettes, may set your foot to tapping, but I doubt any lasting curiosity about Akumu will linger.

Many of Akumu's tracks utilize dark, heavy beats and a minimal, warped drum acoustic to achieve a claustrophobic effect. "Special Order 937" is a prime example-- its thick beats culminate in a 20-second bass tone that branches out into some much- needed drum breaks and Buck Rogers laser sounds. But more far more striking than this fleeting moment of mild inspiration is the utter lack of freshness on Akumu. It's not that the sampling techniques and dense production have all been done before that bothers me-- it's that they've been done in this exact same way.

Akumu is a troubling record-- a disruption of the delicate set of rules by which I exist. But in knowing that the seething drones and past-due beats mark Akumu as an imitation rather than an innovation, we have reached opinion. And so, my work is done. A conundrum? I think not.

-James P. Wisdom