The field sounds lend an organic tilt to the decidedly chilly record, but Ghosts is alive only in the way that flies idling in the barren desert are alive.
It suffers from the problem that comes from trying to sustain that moment of pure ecstasy: it’s incredibly fun, but after awhile it becomes exhausting.
While Cobra Juicy does occasionally flirt with the extraordinary, it ultimately settles for just being “quite good.”
More time spent with Wonky is time getting acquainted with that old friend electronica, which takes its sweet time developing mood and melody.
The inherent darkness of Stott’s carious and degraded mixes, souped up in reverberating drone and pointillized by granular detail, is here juxtaposed against the often sweet, sometimes harrowing voice of his one-time mentor.