Finally played the new Black Dice. Thing's startlingly namby-pamby and polite, kind of Byrne/Eno skipping lightly through digital mud; why didn't they just call it My Life in the Bush of Dorks and get it over with? Between that and the deadly dull Delia Gonzalez/Gavin Russom album (think Tangerine Dream only more lame, if only because three decades on you should be able to figure out how to improve on a blueprint that wasn't particularly interesting the first time around), it's as if DFA were trying to make up for Compilation #2 being so good. Or maybe it's simpler than that, meaning that Tim Goldsworthy and James Murphy aren't the label's secret weapons--they're its only weapons.