Forms

by Ned RaggettTodd Bodine's third full-length is a classic example of something so exquisite, polished, and tasteful that there's almost nothing to do but admire it for what it is rather than wish it was somehow different -- except that with Forms, one eventually wants it to be different, somehow, some way. That Bodine is one for classic house and the many variants that followed is obvious from the first tracks in, and anyone looking for the kind of smooth beauty, crisp beats, and generally chilled but still spirited kick of that form, especially in its instrumental form once the style fully hit Europe, will enjoy it well enough. At the same time, one almost begs for Bodine to throw in a curve ball, instead of providing the equivalent of the endless revivalism that, for instance, dooms most garage rock bands to simply replicate copies of copies once and again. If Bodine ever decides to twist his approach into other areas or other sounds, the results could be truly fascinating rather than enjoyably oppressing, but in Forms one senses an aesthetic happy to stand still rather than evolve -- a freezing of the future into a locked-groove past.