The recent Four Tet EP Ringer not only revealed Kieran Hebden to be a surprisingly dexterous techno producer, but also found him making an asset out of his greatest liability. For all the cosmic wonder he can evoke by placing electronics against naturalistic backdrops, Hebden has often gotten himsef stuck in ruts, even if just for a few moments here and there. In part, that's the fate of an improviser, but it's exacerbated by samplers and machines that can be slow to respond to Hebden's shifts, however smartly they're triggered. In improvised music, it's one thing to sound like you're in transition and another thing to actually be in transition.
None of that mattered on Ringer, thanks in part to techno's formalist grounding. But it matters a lot on NYC, the fourth album made by Hebden and jazz drummer Steve Reid. Ringer's functional dance-music accepts, even privileges, the kind of ruts that have tripped up Hebden in the past; NYC, meanwhile, puts them to work in settings that serve different purposes. On the duo's earlier albums, Hebden and Reid occasionally sounded like they were only barely aware of what the other was doing or might stand to do next. On NYC, they sound much more conscious and sympathetic.
"Lyman Place" starts the album with an unvarying few-note bass-line set against the sound of a jet engine rising in long, slow takes. It sounds like something Miles Davis would have done in the 1970s, and Hebden's relative understatedness helps set off Reid's drumming-- circular, splashy, coyly shrouded by the shimmer of persistent cymbals. "1st & 1st" follows with a fit of funk built around a guitar sample that Hebden makes sound twitchy, like a signal from a world away.
It sounds as if Hebden made a strategic decision to do less on this album, which heightens the impact when he does make a move. Reid benefits greatly from the space to breathe-- much of his drumming on the duo's other records sounds comparatively crowded and confused by how to connect with Hebden. And Hebden himself shows off a new sense of always being in the right place at the right time, without getting caught out in between. He hasn't lost any of the polyglot record-collector drive that has made Four Tet matter from the start: NYC wanders through spells informed by melodica-strewn dub, shoegaze rock, weird folk, and of course the clattering sense of purpose at work in free-jazz. But Hebden sounds considerably more easy-going now, like he's taking time to listen in to what comes out as it happens all around him.
