Darren Cunningham didn't make himself a stranger during the three years that passed between
Karma & Desire and
LXXXVIII, his seventh and eighth albums as
Actress. There was a round of unexpected remixes and one-off collaborations, the dizzying
Dummy Corporation EP, and assorted noncommercial projects. Most surprising was the producer's infiltration of the mainstream.
AZD interstitial "Falling Rizlas" was looped as an extended overture for
Beyonce's
Renaissance tour performances, compelling one TikToker to wonder, "Why is this giving me so much excitement, peace and anxiety all at the same time pls."
LXXXVIII, despite containing sounds immediately recognizable to those familiar with
Cunningham's past, is yet another source of mystification. Its deconstructions and creative alterations of underground club music forms, combined with crystalline ambient compositions -- all pieced together like a
Rammellzee panoply -- cause more sensations of wonderment, comfort, and unease. Any moment resembling a retraced step in his strange universe is engrossing still. "Azd Rain" wouldn't have been out of place on
AZD and plays out like a variation on
R.I.P. track "The Caves of Paradise," its bristling polyrhythms conjuring flashbacks that give way to the deep four-four bass pressure of the aptly titled "Memory Haze." "Its me" rubs the right way by recurving a pleading 1992 slow jam in a mode similar to that of
Ghettoville standout "Rap." As on
AZD,
Cunningham ensures the addition of fresh ideas by mixing it up with a handful of collaborations; three tracks credit new songwriting associates. On "M2 (f 8)," a balladic piano line -- presumably played by co-composer
Laura Groves -- emerges from a thick fog before being accompanied by a skeletal machine beat and hollowed-out synthetic cowbell evoking a street soul
Loose Ends tribute. The title of the scrambled "Game Over (e 1)" somewhat elucidates the album's chess theme, though the unintelligible if emotive voice of
Adam Markiewicz (one-half of
Actress remix clients
Leya) suggests loss greater than a competitive one. That's the closest an
Actress track has hewed toward dubstep, South London-style or otherwise.
HTRK's
Jonnine Standish is in phantasmal form on the most inscrutable track of all, "Push Power (a 1)," mournfully intoning phrases like "I could cry" and "I pretend" in the thick of clonking rhythms, heavy atmospheres, and a titular invitation that takes on a foreboding quality as it repeats. Some of
Cunningham's decisions are as arbitrary as ever. Finale "Pluto," the most hypnotic and straightforward track, cuts out well before three minutes, as if the album was released in a perversely designed format with a 57-minute, 18-second capacity. ~ Andy Kellman