by Ken Taylor
Rovo's Imago is a disc of electronic and acoustic noise that gradually becomes dense, zipping, blurping, and squiggling on infinitely. Violin scrapes and guitar flecks from Yamamoto Seiichi (of Boredoms) are sewn together loosely to create a sonic landscape that mimics a growing storm. It's difficult to pinpoint exactly where albums like Imago fit in as they attempt to progress a number of different styles. Even elements of Krautrock come into the fray as each of the tracks coalesce into fruitful instrumental jams. But the two percussionists, wind players, turntablist, and keyboardist all find themselves buried together in a flurry of spatial noise. "Horses" starts off with an upbeat and polyrhythmic structure that instantly demands attention, clip-clopping around and testing the obviously skilled drummer's collective chops, but it's one of very few interesting tracks. Rovo has a knack for bringing together many ideas and painting themselves as skilled purveyors of each genre, but there is little that threads the tracks together into one cohesive statement. Without trying to sound too conservative, Imago jumps aimlessly from task to task without ever getting the job done. The production is too crisp and even though it was produced with extreme care, it proves to be the main focus of the disc. There aren't any songs here, just sound pieces disguised as songs. Where too many things go on without any purpose, the palette becomes flooded with needless color. Less could've meant a lot more.