Cornelius :  Point

Like a collection of commercial suicide notes, 'Point' reaffirms that
there's no end to the wilfully obscurantist manoeuvres of Keigo Oyamada, aka
Cornelius. Not for him mere sublime popscapery dressed in its Sunday best -
especially when there's mucho fucking up to be done.


In the hands of lesser mortals it might end in tears, but the seasoned
Oyamada (responsible for '98's avant beat-fest, 'Fantasma') has more than a
keen sense of accomplishment. And, alongside fellow upbeat mavericks such as
Max Tundra and Four Tet, it's the mischievous desire to deconstruct his own
perfectly rounded pop snapshots that marks him down as a post-everything
wunderkind.


The mesmerisingly awkward opener 'Bug' is a shattered glass symphony of
over-panned voices, nervous beats and sublime tunes; an idea simplified but
no less effective on 'Bird Watching At Inner Forest', wherein sampled
birdsong forms the backdrop to a breezy, drivetime afro-house mutation. The
nu-hippy lilt of 'Fly', meanwhile, is a similar battle of wonderful ideas
with crazy ideas where the tune, as ever, reigns victorious.


Like all of Matador's new-sound adventurists, Cornelius paints unorthodox,
brainiac tapestries with a healthy non-puritan ethos. But where others are
prone to explore tearful territory, 'Point' chooses the gentlest of found
sounds and the brightest of colours from the post-rock palette. Be grateful
for the reminder that they actually exist.


Darren Johns