Upcoming musicians tend to feel the necessity of travelling from one country to another, either for sound improvement or a swanky collaboration, or both. Even some use the internet for their musical pursuits – sharing files with other foreign musicians and mastering and tweaking in the space of a measly few minutes. The former is what Reading indie-electronic musician, Mr Fogg has been doing for the philosophical sophomore Eleven, though development and a bare slickness are scarce.

Phil Barry, or Mr Fogg, has been in flowery presences, as the Berkshire resident’s Keep Your Teeth Sharp EP caught the eyes of Ólafur Arnalds, Jakwob and Karoshi for remix motives in 2010. It is clear that Arnalds projected a magnetic impression on the Yorke-esque artist – the complete second LP was intricately produced by the established Valgeir Sigurdsson in Iceland. Even through the warmth of Fogg’s prior records, the sophomore somehow bears a dampness that permits no shuffle from an ache to estrangement.

It's not all damp; 'Stay Out Of The Sun' retains the pull-factor in his early years, defended by a slow-release, whistling background synth pad that is adjoined to a familiar 'Idioteque' echoing kick-drum. The latter comparison possibly evokes the dark matter in the 10-track release, for there are no distinctive trademark sounds, albeit the slowed-down buzz-saw in the centre-floor.

Mr Fogg's finishing falsetto provides unease in his vocal quiver, with no redemption made until two minutes into 'Oh Pearl', where a sudden accumulation of zany instrumentation aborts all sense and ends up in an enigmatic safari of excitement. The album is defined by two tones and neither of them touches off any positive joy. The first four tracks are advice pieces, offering this Dali Lama-like counsel to the listener, just in case they are in a wee bit of a quibble. "If you don’t make a fuss, you’ll be sure to expect the worst," or "If you want to be heard, you got to speak the language" offer these ideological, insightful words, but in a way – it’s the generic truth, like saying: "You’re your own worst enemy." The second half, divided by the suitably titled 'Tightrope', beckons an estranged amount of melancholy, which can conjure up a conclusion about the entire record.

Mr Fogg's complete sophomore may detail an introspective monologue that desires an answer. With ten tracks on an album entitled Eleven, perhaps what's beyond his current music could unfold these nuisances in his head. And the music from beyond shall be anticipated, as even though it is not a record of well-deserved commendation, Phil Barry’s forthcoming Kompakt release may expose a fusion of his philosophical prowess and an unfolded talent in electronic music.