"Aye, but he's following too fast," grumbles Daedelus to himself, "he's treading on my heels." So begins this sonic narrative, at times as Joycean as its fictional narrator. Fabulously eclectic in stylings and moods, Daedelus plunders everything from spy TV theme tunes, Steven Jesse Bernstein spoken word, Weisberg-Roberts' own trademark bass clarinet, samba, Waitsian bone machines, bossa nova, New Order bass lines and Bernard Herrmann, to electro (sometime piercing sometime wobbly) and techno (one moment all sea shanty, the next all pounding nails). It's an alchemy that sometimes bites off more than it can chew ("Our Last Stand") but is never less than inventive. At its best it's uncannily dreamlike and resonant, coupling bold juxtapositions with mantra-like repetitions apt to turn on the tiniest proverbial sixpence when least expected. - Mojo |