Until now, the reputation of Northamptonshire home-recorder James Chapman has rested upon a couple of singles, "Start Something" b/w "To the Sky" and "Lost My Soul" b/w "Sparks in the Snow". The singles evoked a simpler version of Caribou, with their sorta-hip-hop beats and kinda-psychedelic pop trappings; of M83, with their swooping and unapologetically grand keyboards; and perhaps of the Postal Service, albeit one cured of the hiccups. But because Chapman forewent the use of computers in favor of recording straight to 16-track, the singles lacked the imposing stature of these digitally-inclined touchstones. For all of its luxuriant majesty, Chapman's music sounds somewhat aloof; the tape onto which it was recorded acts as a thin but palpable barrier between the music and the listener. This is not an unpleasant quality; in fact, the analog warmth of Chapman's compositions is among their most charming aspects.
As if realizing he'd found a winning formula on these early releases, Chapman opted to make them over and over again to flesh out his debut LP, We Can Create. As a result, the album-- which includes both "To the Sky" and "Lost My Soul"-- contains no real duds, and almost any song on it would make a fine single. Taken together, however, the homogeneity of their construction dilutes their appeal. Track after track drops melodic and tonal variations into the same inflexible stencil-- one that's invariably linear, with a transparent, bar-by-bar approach to dynamic shifts. The drums, in particular, beg for some discrepancy-- virtually the same skittering smack pushes along the surging keyboards on each song.
Not that this formula doesn't produce some winners. "So High, So Low" is a perfect summertime confection, despite being the most formulaic song on the album-- it is, in fact, transcendently formulaic. Its title aptly summarizes its dynamics-- alternating between a lean, fuzzy synth throb and sweeping, overdriven ahs, its bright pastel contrasts and unforgettable melody elevate it above its peers. "You Don't Know Her Name" is almost as good, adhering to the same template in more intricate detail, but by "Elouise", with its buzzy synth wash and straightforward churn, one gets the sinking feeling that all else is preordained. The telegraphic urgency of "It Will Find You", with its trip-hop density and spaghetti-synths, provides a welcome contrast to the album proper's exaggerated sway, as does the vanishing and beatless "Glory Verse". There's a lot to recommend in Chapman's as-the-crow-flies approach to songwriting, but one wishes he'd occasionally slow down and take the scenic route instead.
