No sound is safe from Markus Mehr on his new release, Lava. Each one is subjected to an array of sonic surgeries that slice, pull, invert, roughen and deconstruct them even as Mehr reconfigures them into abstract structures. The yawning waveforms that open the first track, “Agenda,” stand as about the least molested sounds here–and about four minutes into what seems like it’s going to be a fairly standard ambient/drone work, Mehr starts manipulating the sounds and things proceed to get more interesting by degrees.

I find that I’m more involved with the music on Lava when Mehr keeps his machinations subtle. I’ll take the calm grace of “Hubble,” for example, my favorite track on the disc, over an aggressive now-hear-this experiment like “Up Sturz.” There’s still a lot to listen to in “Hubble.” Mehr puts a slightly coarsened edge on wavering synth tones to keep the thing from just being simple. There is still some effort involved in listening, a minor barrier for you to get around, but it’s not alienating. It’s a well-meant challenge. He plays with this idea again on “Everyware,” where a straightforward electric piano melody has to vie for attention against the wayward splashes of sound Mehr flings at it. Simplicity at odds with complexity–this equals interest. At least, as long as the complexity’s not too daunting. For me, what it comes down to is that the smoother rides offer a deeper level of listening because I’m not fighting against what I’m hearing. Or, more to the point, what’s being forcibly jammed into my ears. It’s only a minority of tracks here that pull me out of the listening experience. For the rest, Mehr has my full attention, which he duly rewards with an interesting set of compositions. The sounds here are viscous and rich, layered and neatly woven. I’ve gone back for many repeat listens to make sure I haven’t missed anything, and I look forward to more from Mehr.

Available at Hidden Shoal Records.

There is a scene in the movie Amadeus where the King complains that he did not like one of Mozart’s pieces because it had “too many notes.” Mozart wisely advises the King that if his majesty would simply point out which notes he objects to, Mozart will have them removed.

I bring this up in regard to Brokenkites’ solid IDM offering, No Sun So Brightly Shines, because when I listen to it I find myself thinking that there’s a bit too much of the repetitive WHUMP thump WHUMP thump of a techno/IDM beat. But more to the point, I think it obscures the quality of the rest of the work. On pieces where Brokenkites exercises a bit of percussive restraint, the songs really catch my ear without pushing my hand to the “next” button. There are places where it certainly works better than others. The racing pace and tinny, old-school sound of “Analepsis” picks up its soul from that programmed beat. Same goes for “Opian” as it smoothly changes identities from pulsing dance number to suspense-movie soundtrack and back. One of my favorites here. But listening to “Prolepsis,” I know for sure that Brokenkites can be just as effective when the WHUMPage is dialed down, and it makes me want to hear more of that subtlety at work. He’s got a good feel for a well-chosen beat, but the density and sameness of his choices sometimes pulls the music down under the weight.

Beats aside, No Sun So Brightly Shines is filled with strong melodies that stay with you and a nice mix of sounds that keeps things fresh, track to track. There’s a thoughtfulness of composition that comes through, a sense of the artist having something worthwile to say. In a mix, where one might get a respite from the drums, the disc truly (ahem) shines. I’ve also been listening to his 2008 offering, Fugue State, and delving into both makes me honestly look forward to more from Brokenkites.

Available from CD Baby.