Autechre

It's only been a few months since we last checked in with Sheffield experimental techno duo Autechre; this past spring they delivered the impressively calm, bristling and eerie Oversteps. Many saw that album as a shift away from the schizophrenic, stuttering beats that had come to define the group, a record that moved towards a bristling, highly individualized take on the new electronic classical of labels such as Type and Touch. But never count on Autechre to meet expectations head on. The ten-track Move of Ten, following quickly on the heels of Oversteps, is more its opposite than its twin, bringing back the frenetic, post-human dance floor the duo began cultivating on 2003's Draft 7.30. Autechre's chief strength, or flaw, depending on whether you're a fan loving the band from the inside or an observer looking for a way in, is that despite the wide stylistic gap between the two records, they both sound as if they couldn't have been made by anyone other than Auctechre. Despite its density, Move of Ten is yet another worthy addition to the duo's catalogue, which is now more complex and intimidating a world than most bodies of work in modern music.