Steve Webster (aka the Black Neon) severely suffers from a "cool" crisis. Arts & Crafts schizos its way between the monsters of art school post-punk, watered-down kraut rock, and late-1990s slacker electronica as curated by Beck. Throw in some one-off psychedelic frittering and this Londoner's seriously angling for the title of Renaissance Dude. Unfortunately, this purported acid trip through cerebral rock history is performed with smoke and mirrors-- it's a feat in versatility and sonic landscapes but a labored tour of influences.
Arts & Crafts compartmentalizes its touchstones with the organization of a spice rack. "Ode to Immer Wieder" and "The Exit" bookend the album with candy-coated takes on Neu!, Can, and Berlin-era David Bowie. While this sequencing could bring about allegations of intellectual pandering or window dressing, these tracks possess the gravitas of Air's more cartoonish kraut takes. "Ralph and Barbara" melts the album's otherwise cold, electronic heart with an acoustic gem straight from the outtakes of an Elephant 6 jam session. Taking this lysergic aura and running with it, "The Truth" and "TX81Z" constitute the meaty crux of the album, glossing the surf-psych melodies over with layers of Odelay and Emperor Tomato Ketchup. Catchy, yes, but these saccharine babies rot the stomach pretty quickly. "TX81Z" especially reveals Webster's limitations, a seemingly endless chain of the same chord progression gone Groundhog Day, each repetition featuring a bland permutation of synths, keyboards and other sound effects.
The album's final third feels like the debris from this not-so-mind-altering explosion. Webster's clearly aiming for a second-half cool down reminiscent of Low's but his diarrhetic tendencies pack too many bells and whistles on what should be sparser, subtler tracks. "The Ghosts" puts Pink Floyd's greatest hits in a blender and sets it to puree, topping off the sludge with a hint of Gary Numan's signature sci-fi synths. Sure, sometimes the heady stuff flies, but too often Webster's taking hits off Dark Side's bong without actually inhaling, and the overly regimented genre-hopping totally ruins the high.
