It is a fat slab of a CD with 19 tracks sandwiched into a mix that manages to be alternately hard and haunting; it's a CD that lends itself to an urban landscape. Within minutes it slides between tough house, becomes almost Balearic, threatens in seconds to turn into menacing techno, and then slips into some off-kilter stuff that would best be described as electro, if that label had not been so mercilessly over-used to describe unlistenable grinding noise. Throughout all this, Complex doesn't ever lose sight of the importance of melody and harmony, and as hard as it seems in places, Schism is still actually playing what can be called songs. As well as being perfectly beatmatched, one of the solid elements of Complex is Schism's knack for knowing when to leave a track to run its course, and when to tease a chorus or a riff just long enough before switching effortlessly into something else.
The man himself spins at Vice tomorrow night from 12am and the first 100 people through the door get a free copy of Complex, which is reason enough to get there early. Stragglers will have to buy one. If you miss him, his weekly residency is on Thursdays at Champagne 3.
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