The music of co-conspirators Otto von Schirach and Mr. Feathers has always been about extremes; the limitations of relatively diatonic systems, the overthrowing of "dance music" as a concept, the removal of subtext in a genre dictated by titles more than audio output. But while Otto prefers working within the Miami Bass realm with splashes of post-Rusko dubstep, Mr. Feathers has bumped up the indeterminable source of his music to a point of nigh unidentified influences, drawing equally from the sharp breaks and one-bar aural jump cuts of multiple genres (dubstep, breakcore, braindance) and the propulsive simplicity of everything from reggaeton to progressive house. Now returning with Knife Cream Sundae, Feathers gets all ADHD and sees how many ideas can be completed in under an hour, or simply has become restless with the concept of categorization.

Some of the purposeful idiocy is still there – 'Triangle God' sounds like Lil B and Schirach rewrote 'Dance Like A Hoe' and all of IM THRAXX - while the music remains as cerebrally exciting as before. Averaging track lengths shows a mean of 2'00", and with 27 tracks total there is bound to be the sort of diversity that even the most critical listener can appreciate if not stand back and feel daunted by. This surplus inevitably leads to the latter at some point, as if the marathon session aspect is a badge of honor for the victor. With those factors in play, it's an album designed for two purposes: total and utter submission or complete removal of control. Either the listener can choose to enter the wide open field and be at the mercy of every twist and turn, breaking multiple necks in the process, or buck the selector (bypassing Aaron Funk's mission to confuse) and hit Shuffle, expecting a new version of They Might Be Giants' Apollo 18 ideal. Some of those inklings towards straight music are still in motion with 'Playboy Toy' almost being a conventional track before it becomes a shuffling behemoth that ultimately ditches its own key to end on a free riff, 'Ben Aca Con Migo' serving as the soundtrack to your next acid trip dream, and a handful of other compelling sonic outings bridging the highlights together. At its best, Knife Cream Sundae comes off like an amalgamation of Autechre and Venetian Snares at their base levels, transcending these by transforming them; at its worst there is little more than a short but uninteresting bit of sound - and therein lies the flaws of this album, with some tracks either blending into one nameless span that takes the listener out of the realm of caring or others becoming the apparent result of little more than sound tests with no real discernable purpose (case and point: 'White Girl Prostitute' in both of its incarnations). With a surplus of tracks, it would seem the wiser choice to pare down than pad out, and the better tracks far outnumber and outweigh the lesser ones to the point where a concise disc (download? This isdigital only) could have been easily compiled and presented, gaining some larger value in the long run.

Nobody will find themselves wondering what the outtakes for Knife Cream Sundae really sound like, nor will that same entity be ousting all of Feathers' output from their collection. Compilation releases often remind the listener of what makes the artist interesting, whether it be an overstuffed stylistic framing, a boundless sense of exploratory creation, or just damn fine musicianship, and also recall moments later that could be appreciated later in a different context, while providing a real test of time and their value in relation to proximity. Now, is this a fitting entry in the continuing Triangle saga that Miami's avant-break underground seems to be congealing into? Yes, it is as it furthers their mythos and continues the self-propagating nature of its Zeuhl-like spreading. But is it the sort of breakthrough that will lead to names bigger than already noteworthy collaborative bands like Skinny Puppy and Venetian Snares? Hell no. Even as an admitted fan and apologist, there were moments of pure frustration and maybe that's the point, making me as a listener a better person for gaining the self control to not hit "forward" time and time again. Pairing a temporal format geared to today's "Get In Get Out" listening culture with a whole that works as a continuing of his mission statement, one can never fault Mr. Feathers for going out of everyone's safety zone.