When Machines Exceed Human Intelligence starts with the slumped shuffle of “Dirtbox,” which flashes on the weighty torpor of dubstep; Pritchard’s been listening hard to recent developments in dance music, and parts of this album offer his own, skewed take on these forms. Interestingly, though, When Machines... is more convincing when Pritchard’s looking back – the acid-period rhythm box of “Flaash” induces déjà vu as prickly, phosphorescent electronics pulse and twist like LCD displays on overdrive. The jewel-like quality of some of these compositions is charming, and their simplicity and unhurried development is welcome, though they sometimes risk slipping away into nothingness. There are stretches of When Machines... that pass by and refuse to lodge in the memory.
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