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To paraphrase Henry Ford when describing the exquisite simplicity of his Model T, "any customer can have any colour he likes, so long as it's black."

Wax Stag will go one step further. You can have any colour you like; blue, black, red, pink, azure, tangerine, lime or burgundy, but regardless of outside appearances, the beast under the bonnet will remain resolutely the same. II may be swathed in a cloak of many colours, but it is skilfully constructed, and will tempt you into showing it off.

It is hard to assess exactly how Rob Lee has been affected by years of playing other people's music, touring the world filling various roles for the likes of Friendly Fires, White Lies and Clark. In all that time his alter-ego Wax Stag seems to have lain largely dormant, fully formed and sleeping while its master earned a wage and saw some sights. The first Wax Stag record was playful, an impish collection of low-key, wonky house with cutesy hooks and a knowing air. At the time it emerged it became a little lost amongst other acts aiming at a comparable archness, including Hot Chip and Metronomy. They say babies get their most important development while they sleep. You wonder if the same has been true of the Stag.

Bluntly, it has. Brilliantly in keeping with his Adventure Time-esque artwork and incorporeal titles ('Sparkling River'; 'Cloud Cakes') each track is constructed from a minimalist pallete, and settles into a comfortable mid-range mobility driven by the simplest of staple House beats and familiar synths. With initial construction taking place while on tour, 'II' feels like it was designed partly to maintain its creator's equilibrium during periods of heavy activity. The confident, positivist 'Sparkling River' is followed by the exhilaratingly logical 'Caverns', an arpeggiating chimera that loops back on itself ad infinitum. 'The Greatest Grace' is another leisurely, oddball treasure.

'Race to the Lake' ups the heartbeat measurably, while remaining confidently within the instrumental parameters Lee sets. Its double-time keys riff is still bluffly complex - you can still guess the points at which a wider panorama will emerge almost to the bar - and yet, the motif doesn't become tired. Lee keeps most of his tracks beneath an artificially slow BPM, but knows when to let something fade rather than fizzle. Nothing drags.

Rob Lee has perfected a construction line mentality to art. Keep it simple. Work with materials you understand. Say different things, but don't raise your voice for the sake of it. He's a very capable multi-instrumentalist, but at no point does this album feel like his prowess is being waved under your nose. In amongst all the order and logic and the standardised tools he employs, something of a beautiful soul is fashioned. He has made an electronic album for humans.

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