With hissing hi-hats and a vastly informed floor-filling groove that sounds like it was fashioned by criminally shy techno demigods, Chris Cowie’s 22-track two-part full-length is a storehouse of contorted funk. Simple basslines, as in the hammering and hypnotic “Sure Thing,” will likely bore those looking for something with more hooks, but there’s an otherworldly air that manages to revamp the subtly pitched, Ian Pooley-styled beats and squirty electro-trance sound harassment. The result is a texturally rich artist album, if obviously overlong. – Dean Carlson