Minotaur Shock — Orchard

Bristol’s David Edwards was a medium-sized player in the indie electronica scene of the new millennium. As Minotaur Shock, he released a couple of records via 4AD and contributed to high-profile remix projects by larger bands like Bloc Party and Super Furry Animals. But he never quite achieved the same level of success as such likeminded breakouts as Four Tet or Caribou, and his first release after four years, Orchard, should easily find his audience wondering why. It’s unlikely that anyone else has made a record that more organically blends electronic and acoustic instrumentation while offering such an astounding kaleidoscope of styles, all presented in a seamless sequence that suggests a musical mind with a built-in Genius or Pandora feature. At his best, he dresses his songs in a variety of outfits as they progress, often carrying unique melodies through multiple styles without losing the plot.

Edwards demonstrates these gifts almost immediately with the two-part “Janet,” which first bolsters the album’s strongest melody with large ‘80s keyboards and a hint of an old-fashioned 12” extended mix but then moves the action to a finger-plucked acoustic guitar wrapped in real strings. “Through the Pupils of Goats” starts with Warp-like touches of glitch and blasts of static before introducing a lush Brazilian mode that, for most artists, would be the culmination of the track. Instead, a live bass comes out of nowhere and turns the whole thing into disco. Edwards pulls a similar punch in “Westonbirt,” a politely-mixed techno track that intertwines twangy guitar with scurrying piano arpeggios but then really gets the pianos jumping when the track surprisingly veers into a coda of early ‘90s house pop groove.

Not all of the tracks feature dramatic stylistic twists; most of them simply blend disparate styles together or demonstrate musical contradictions. For example, “Quint” begins as dance punk, a half step away from Gang of Four, but immediately two-steps toward gypsy serenade with folksy fiddles and sultry horns. A pivotal piece for Orchard, “Lending Library” manages to be both slick and eccentric at once, like Mouse on Mars gone prog and performing action TV themes, while “Saundersfoot” achieves standstill art gallery glitter and space rock at the same time.

Armed with such an impressive showcase, why then might Minotaur Shock still struggle for an audience in 2012? Part of the problem might be that Edwards stepped onto the scene when indie music hit its popular zeitgeist and the new boom in affordable home recording technology meant that hundreds of laptop musicians were unleashed upon the world at once. Many of these made brief careers of style over substance but most floundered for identity in an overcrowded playing field. And now a decade later, when the gimmickry has worn off but the artistry still stands, the ways to discover and consume music have changed, making it all the more impossible for an artist who teeters on the edge of anonymity to make a name for himself. Edwards continuously exhibits a rich backdrop of interests and influences but never quite develops a personality of his own, so while the numerous jaw-dropping juxtapositions and unpredictable instrumental touches scattered throughout Orchard are enough to recommend the album, the world at large—a new world, where people no longer need to keep encyclopedic knowledge of music in their heads—may still have difficulty grasping what Minotaur Shock actually sounds like.