Hyperspace

Mixing just enough of the familiar and the unexpected, defying expectations of a Pharrell collaboration, Hyperspace manages to stand out among Beck’s diverse and tenured discography.

Overall, in spite of its goofy throwback artwork and the presence of Pharrell Williams, Hyperspace belongs on the shelf closest to Sea Change. There are more clunkers here than on that classic, but it feels similarly honest and world-weary.

It's a beautifully understated album with subtleties that reveal themselves on repeat listens.

It is a Beck album that’s distinguished from the ones that came before it, and at every turn it evinces a singer, songwriter, and record-maker who’s unerring in his craft.

Beck never lingers upon either his melancholy or his celestial flights of fantasy: they exist simultaneously, resulting in a tremulous and pretty soundtrack for moments of fleeting introspection.

Although Hyperspace can be dull at certain moments, Beck has discovered a new songwriting style that’s conducive to his adventurous tendencies.

It’s a testament, then, to Beck’s artistic vision and his personal gravity that Hyperspace holds together as well as it does.

Beck's postmodern plea, like the music itself, isn't compelling, as though he couldn't care whether you listen to him or not. Instead, he shrugs and floats on, searching for a new place to land.

"It’s like there’s a radio station playing in my head all the time.” Listening to Hyperspace provides a similar experience—sometimes he hits pure signal, and sometimes it’s just background noise as he gets to wherever he’s going next.

The whole album, with its dabbling through styles makes it sound like walking through a mid-market clothes shop on a Saturday afternoon. It’s just about enough to keep you browsing, but never enough to inspire.

While these are enjoyable enough tracks to soundtrack your day, there’s little of the lasting emotion or progression for which we know Beck.

Hyperspace feels inconsequential and incomplete.

Hyperspace ends up being a frustrating record.

Worst of all, the element of surprise within past glories, and his joyful surrender to incoherence, has long waned into mediocrity that’s much too keen to please.