I've heard a lot of Flying Lotus, in music shops, streamed cuts and YouTube clips, most of which I've almost played to the end - that's how authoritative I am. So listen.
Don't you think album reviewing is redundant? I do. But I've got nothing else to do whilst the dinner's cooking, and it's duck, which as you know must be cooked low (should that be 'lo'?) and slow, therefore taking 90mins in this case.
Everything Steven Ellison could be if he was the great-nephew of Ravi Coltrane's mother...which he is, but we can't allow that to raise our expectations, can we? After all, that's a distant lineage, and the Jazz genes must therefore weaken. Few can talk of Flying Lotus without mentioning the J word, which makes me think it's supposed to be in here, somewhere, but nothing as obvious as guest, or sampled saxophones, no sir. If this is Jazz, it's a great-nephew of Weather Report, perhaps, who sprang to mind during one track, I can't remember which.
The whole thing glides along as smoothly as a David Sanborn record, which I've never heard, of course. Smooth as silk, then, which I have felt, though never had the privilege to sleep between. Smooth as 80s soul albums, which I detest, and certain rhythms here remind me of, but not enough to make me detest them. Quite. I'm also reminded of Stevie Wonder instrumentals from around the mid-70s, just before he disappeared, or rather, suffered the greatest loss of creative juices known to music, probably.
This review ends here. I didn't wait until the quiet at the end of the album came, but hit the 'Stop' button 20secs into track 16. Not because it's that bad, but because the duck needs attending to.