Autechre screw up their beats royally, and subsequently
unravel them before your very eyes.
Many music commentators have consistently claimed that Autechre
virtually embody and define what the poorly attributed moniker,
IDM (Intelligent Dance Music),
purports to signify. In characterising Autechre as something
that imitators in the genre look towards,
the critics miss an important quality of the "Autechre
sound" that is not fulfilled by many other acts. Their
sonics are so distinctive that its human components, Sean
Booth and Rob Brown, rightly refer to the music simply as "Autechre," and
as such imply that their uncompromisingly avant-garde sound
has a character and life of its own. Many reviewers are,
frankly, far too intimidated by the thought of being forced
to assess this confrontational avant-garde nature of Autechre
on any more than the most trivial, hand-waving grounds, simply
because they hold some deep assumptions about the way one
listens to and feels music. It is fortunate, then, that Draft
7.30 is enjoyable to listen to, although it can be claimed
that it is not a marked progression from previous work.
Good things come in twos. Listening to Autechre feels increasingly
less like listening to any other kind of music in dual proportion
to two factors: in terms of their progression as artists
from their very first Warp release, Incunabula (1993); and
the fashion by which one begins to find their sounds lodged
in your consciousness, as they progressed from meaningless
noises towards deeply cathartic structures of enjoyment.
Draft 7.30, like all successful Autechre releases, has two
important qualities: wonderful density that bears large numbers
of repeated listens; and a sonic theme.
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