Diminutively erratic synth belches launch second song Iris2Iris, its questioning narrator rhetorically improvising over ambiguous currents of white noise. Muscular strings traverse the indeterminate composition before a flurry of quick cut beats vapourise its frame and lead us gently to next track Recliner. Notable for the pulsing syntax of its soaring chorus, the silken vocal draperies grasp onto the precariously crumpling melody. Consistent with the harmoniously fluid musicianship that made the tracks prior so engaging, fourth track Cellular finds Mathew borrowing from James Blake’s haunted dramatics playbook, lamenting over the tracks sputtering minor chord symphonics.
Elsewhere the meditative emotions that give Intuit its own velocity customarily undulate outward but never manage to break the song’s peaceful surface. Subtle to the point of being imperceptible, the album is frustratingly non assertive, Mathé rarely daring to live perilously or experiment wildly, shackling himself to the security blanket of his own dormant limitations and as a result the record, whose narrator has so much to say, despite being attractive and graceful, communicates very little.
As his songs have sunken away from the strident acoustic boldness that shone from his debut Sea of Blood 16 years ago, towards these innocuous arpeggiated compositions, they appear to have lost some of the colour and depth that once made them so daring.