Is Luke Vibert too prolific? A man with more personalities than that cross-eyed guy in Identity, Vibert has, under his various guises, released records on Warp, Rephlex, Astralwerks, Mo'Wax, and Ninja Tune. His resume reads like a directory of essential electronic labels, and his output-- be it the experimental drum 'n' bass of Plug, the jungle jumble of Andrew Amen, or the scrap heap house of his eponymous releases-- all reflect his imperative to push established genres into territory just beyond the usual. Now Vibert returns with his fifth album under the Wagon Christ moniker-- the one reserved for the, um, quirkier side of his quirks. But does his almost mythical work ethic amount to genius or expose the disposability of his music?
The answer lies closer to genius than junk. Sorry I Make You Lush is an extremely listenable, laughable album, a futuristic freakshow of deep, stirring melodies and innovative beat arrangements. There's a great variety of android emotions at play here, wrought by a fluctuating sonic density that explodes one moment into galactic proportions, and contracts into padded cell claustrophobia the next. Even with "Shadows"' haunted overtones and "UBFormby"'s bug-eyed schizophrenia, Wagon Christ's trademark sense of humor is always evident, both in musical form and in the use of outlandish vocal samples.
The latter show up most notably in the aptly titled "The Funnies", a patchwork funk knit mostly from chop-shop percussion (with plenty of cowbell) and manic guffaws, and the zero-gravity roller boogie of "Kwikwidetrax", which lies creepy Cockney toddler vocals over a rubber Bootsy bassline and a whiplash hip-hop break. Ultimately, though, these songs come off like smart-alecky gimmicks, almost too reliant on the easy laugh to set their sights on higher goals. But they're also Wagon Christ's patented weirdo shtick, and devoted fans will undoubtedly be tickled.
The real gems are found on the less slapstick tunes, where Vibert's nuanced composition is at its clearest. These tracks, like the album-opening "Saddic Gladdic", are deeply indebted to Vibert's purring Moog melodies, naturally flouting their heavy-handedness (can something called a "Moog" ever sound grave?). "I'm Singing", submerged in a wash of acoustic guitar, gentle ambient effects and electro breaks, is a soothing Tron torch song that eventually slides into anesthetized planetarium-show exotica.
Wagon Christ's elusive sense of humor is mainly a by-product of clever juxtaposition. For instance, Vibert balances the Twilight Zone paranoia of "Sci-Fi Staircase"'s high-register melody with a sweetly breaking beat. It's a ridiculous, unparalleled combination that, as the song moves through a concentrated, stuttering tweak and ethereal synth solo, takes on grandiose proportions. The album's title track hides a plodding drum 'n' bass rumble beneath what sounds like a banjo jam and Mellotron string section, then segues into squishy electro breaks halfway through, and adds what sounds like a snippet of The Police's "Synchronicity" synth and some light-saber samples for comedic effect.
Taken as a whole, Sorry I Make You Lush can be seen basically as a breakbeat clinic, a kitchen-sink rhythmic workout splayed across a surreal, Dali-esque melodic landscape. Vibert consistently makes a solid case for his mastery of the form, stripping his beats down to their engines and souping them up with the most outrageous, flamboyant finishes he can muster. The album's closer rides on a wiry, insomniac beat and aquatic synth that recalls Air's "Premiers Symptomes" on Ritalin. As a closer, it's a truly enthralling track, hardly worthy of its "Nighty Night" title. If Cool Hand Luke can keep the vibe this strong, he may as well keep shooting-- Lush is pretty close to a bulls-eye.
