Well, he was bound to slip up eventually. Vladislav Delay's umpteenth (anyone keeping
score?) release isn't bad, but it's frustrating. Did Mr. Delay really need to sequence
Anima as a single 62-minute mix? The vinyl edition apparently includes track divisions, so
that may be the wiser investment. As for the CD, it begins arrestingly enough, marking a
return to the star-making iceberg-digidub sound of Ele and Entain. Delay's music has never
sounded more inviting, even approaching Lanois/Eno or Biosphere warmth as veins of melody
undercut Anima's cracking floes. Delay always liked to meander, and meander he does, but
his carefree ways get the better of him here. Anima goes nowhere--fast. You could argue,
as I have elsewhere, that Delay's circuitous journey is its own reward. Unfortunately,
that's just not the case with Anima. The digital silt sluicing through Delay's channels
becomes obstructive as it accumulates, rendering the flow torpid. Two-chord house synths
strike a nicely atmospheric note at first but soon seem monotonous. Activity slows to a
constipated crawl far too often, the choppiness exacerbated by Delay's thick application
of tug-and-pull dub effects. It all grows wearying over time. I suppose the start/stop
irregularity of Anima could be Delay's response to the ordered rhythmicity of his
click-house kin. But the passive-aggressive arrhythmia thoroughly negates the dance
rhythms that make his work so compelling. In rendering his music unfit for either floor or
armchair purposes, Delay has made an album with no apparent audience. Such a feat smacks
of self-indulgence, and Anima can only be regarded as a puzzling misstep by a very
talented producer.
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