Robert Logan's opening salvo, 2007's 'Cognessence', was an impressive maelstrom of dubstep and electronica facing up to grime peer pressure from out of a garden shed studio. Its wide-angled ire was probably made accountable by its leader being aged 19 at the time and climbing speakers for sport.
'Flesh' continues the fraught futurism of both that striking debut and the spillover of intelligently ill omens that followed on the blade running 'Inscape'. Most try and appropriate the sounds of the 30th century when it's under attack, but Logan seems to have it pixel-perfect, like he has a space-and-timeshare when he's not schmoozing on the boards with Grace Jones.
The outlook for 2015 is a mite more even mix of granite and marble. The London producer, using a conductor's wand as a light sabre, is going for imperial as much as industrial, with the support of orchestral pomp and grandiose quadraphonic allies helping create his newest dynasty. Tracks such as 'Solanoid' sound like a whole army has been charged to elevate Logan's status an echelon further.
Early neuro funker 'Phrack' shrinks in the shadow of 'Vespine Domain', a synth snake pit feeding on New Romantics. 'Goose Chatter' is a haunted house of polygon windows, subsequently laid siege to by stormtroopers on 'Straighten'. The album's velocity has the stability of a high-wire walker, but despite outbreaks to the contrary, Logan's ammunition isn't stuck on autofire. Methodical pincer movements puncture sceneries like balloons, and Logan layers technology like a game of skyscraper-high Jenga ('Photovoltaics').
Blasted through with fresh air or hot ash so you get the wobbles to match, Logan is out for his pound of 'Flesh', and once again comes back quids in.
8/10
Words: Matt Oliver
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