No iMac here—this lo-fi assemblage of beats around looped vocal clips feels put together with twine, and reminds me of one of the best eras of hip-hop, when groups like EPMD really got out the scratchy vinyl and put together smart, evocative new songs that respected their source material while standing on its shoulders to achieve something utterly new. Except, you know, EPMD had rappers, and here there are none, except maybe the loops of Ned Flanders saying “Son of a gun-diddley-un!”

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There are so many highs and lows on this album, but as talented as all the members are, especially Rachman on guitar, Jones is the fulcrum upon which the rest of the band teeters. That’s why the simple acoustic ditty “Summertime Dear” will likely be your favorite tune off the album… like Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day,” all the sincere woo-pitching somehow feels like the naivete of the doomed. Only if you listen closely can you pick out the line about wanting to “keep on running, because we can sleep when we’re dead,” which feels straight out of a poem by Bonnie Parker to Clyde Barrow.

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Foam on the Waves of Space-Time… is as complex as its title suggests; it’s a gentle exploration of classically-informed ambient electronics, warped beats, drone minimalism, and astral jazz, with hints of early Aphex Twin and Squarepusher seeping in quietly.

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