Drukqs

Drukqs. Druck-kyoos. Drug use? Or just another one of the Twin's cryptic pranks? Your guess is as good as mine.

After two years of public silence and what many had judged to be his final exit from the world of corporate music, the original IDM iconoclast has returned with another puzzle. The problem with Drukqs, a two-disc, 30-track medley that allegedly wraps up Richard D. James' contract with Warp Records, is that there's really no puzzle at all.

This album charts familiar Aphex territory, surveying styles he's plied on previous records, rather than suggesting new directions. It says something that Aphex enthusiasts expect James to reinvent himself with every record, and that the general reaction to this album (which has been trading hands over online piracy channels for months) has been somewhat unenthusiastic. From a man who has made a career staying a step ahead of his fans, an album as conventional as Drukqs comes as a sad surprise.

The stylistic pastiche here mirrors many different points of James' career. Most of the tracks are brief melodic exercises conducted on piano and harpsichord, styled after "Nannou" from the Windowlicker EP. There are several purely electro-acoustic excursions, some in the cacophonous vein of the "equation" song on Windowlicker, others more reminiscent of the lysergic drone of Selected Ambient Works II. "Bbydhyonchord" and "Orban Eq Trx4" emulate the rhythmic, sensual sounds of Analogue Bubblebath 4, or the softer facets of I Care Because You Do. Abrasive electro pieces like "Omgyjya Switch7" and "54 Cymru Beats" steal the show, grafting drill-n-bass beats onto stark mechanical backdrops that recall James' early Joyrex releases.

But Drukqs showcases Aphex's crude instrumental contemplations to a fault. His production talents have their bounds, and they wear a little thin when he dons the mantle of artistic maturity, attempting to imitate Erik Satie. "Father," "Avril 14th," "Strotha Tynhe" and "Jynweythek Ylow" rove dangerously close to the Windham Hill new age aesthetic of the 80s.\t"Prep Gwarlek 3b" and "Kladfvgbung Micshk" take the formula to a more sophisticated, brooding level, but fail to bring anything exciting to a sound that Philip Glass pioneered more boldly 25 years ago. These languid noodlings comprise over half of the album; take them away and the cracks begin to show in Drukqs' monumental 30-song promise. In the end, with all the filler, this monster packs a lot less punch than some of Aphex's shorter releases, like the legendary Selected Ambient Works 85-92, or the Hangable Auto Bulb EPs.

James fares better in other arenas. A muffled, throbbing pulse propels "Gwely Mernans" through a macabre tableau of disembodied strings and white noise. Though not on par with the best ambient work in Aphex Twin's canon, this song weaves a compelling web of mood and texture. "Hy a Scullys Lyf a Dhagrow" takes ambient music to the other extreme with a disjointed demonstration of ear-shattering sonic sleight. "Gwarek2," one of the most chilling additions yet to James' demented repertoire, sounds like a stripped down take on \xB5-Ziq's "Mr. Angry." Tortured screams resonate through an abandoned foundry, joined by the unsettling clamor of clashing metal and screeching vermin.

"Meltphace 6" delivers in signature Aphex style, with brisk snares trading fire over a wash of solemn synthesizers, thick squelches and warbling, high-pitched flourishes. "Mt. Saint Michel Mix+St. Michael's Mount" carries the torch, matching its relentless drill-n-bass torrents with simple, innocent refrains. In its final minutes, the song frays into a stuttering swarm of dissected, time-spaced samples-- certainly one of Drukqs' finer moments.

Other honorable mentions include "Vordhosbn," whose wistful and occasionally dissonant timbre is offset by the biting ring of blistering drums. Imagine "IZ-US" with Venetian Snares operating the drum kit, and you'll get the general picture. The protean "Ziggomatic v17" runs through several movements-- frenzied electro breakcore and anthemic 4/4 warehouse techno, interspersed with lush melodic passages-- before tapering off with a soft refrain.

"Taking Control" is concentrated Aphex acid. The scathing electro breaks and spliced, vocoded samples evoke memories of "Humanoid Must Not Escape" from Joyrex J9. But the absence of engaging melody and firm structure keep "Taking Control" and a several other songs ("Cock/Ver10," "Afx237 v7") from really enveloping the listener. The sterile, clinical feel and limited palette of the heavier electro numbers renders them grating, one-dimensional and sometimes entirely unlistenable.

Even the successful drill-n-bass pieces offer only shallow satisfaction. They sound like throwbacks to the past rather than prospects on the future; and for all of their compositional strength, there's an element of the Aphex Twin mystique missing.

This record simply doesn't inspire the same degree of astonishment and awe as its predecessors-- seminal works like I Care Because You Do, Selected Ambient Works II and his last proper full-length, 1997's The Richard D. James Album, which not only struck fans on a personal level, but often reshaped the way they listened to music. Drukqs speaks a familiar tongue, instead of inviting us to learn new languages; it gives us the answers before asking the riddles. In this sense, it defies every expectation we had of Richard D. James. But in hindsight, it seems to show that some conventions are worth following.