On his debut album under a new alias, Chicago’s Conor Mackey focuses his varied interests on knotty electronic music, merging a panoply of subgenres into one pummeling package.
Conor Mackey’s music has assumed different shapes over the past decade: proggy jazz fusion, math rock, high-speed electro. With each new turn, the Chicago composer’s studies in music theory and composition have informed the meticulousness of his approach. That foundation came through most clearly in his work as a guitarist in the five-piece Monobody, in which he built complex instrumental vistas around a moody blend of post-rock and jazz. Late last year, handling the twitchy, synth-heavy production for fellow Monobody member NNAMDÏ’s Are You Happy EP, he adopted the alias Lynyn, and on Lexicon, his debut album under the moniker, Mackey veers sharply in yet another direction, creating knotty electronic music that merges a panoply of subgenres into one pummeling package.
Lexicon moves in volatile fits and starts, whipping from sprawling IDM to disorienting digicore to muscular jungle. Mackey knows how to slowly set up the intricacies of his songs—each of Lexicon’s chaotic polyrhythms is tightly constructed for maximum impact. The frenetic “Stumbling” lays down a headache-throb beat ready-made for warehouse raves; early standout “Uja End,” meanwhile, stacks every element with geometric detail à la Aphex Twin, slowly dialing up echoing strings, syncopated drums, and an undercurrent of slippery synths. Each texture combines into a cohesive, head-spinning whole, establishing a sense of gratifying balance to the pandemonium.
Mackey occasionally slows things down with mellow, downcast synths, which wind like faint whispers through “In Dust” and “Memory.” These reflective highlights offer a brief cooldown from the tangled rhythms and intensity that can drag down some songs. “Vnar Rush” exhaustingly rides an eerie sample into infinity amid a hornet’s swarm of synths; closer “Puffling,” where breakbeats merge with the sound of glasses clinking together, feels anonymous to a fault. It detracts from the moments when the album shows a more playful sense of personality and character in the music’s modular architecture.
When Mackey does lean into his quirks, Lexicon shines. On “Amund Vise,” he splices distorted vocal melodies, one of the few instances of voice on the album, into the thudding drum patterns, giving the song a vital boost of energy—and a crucial element of humanity. The ascendant voices and melodies break through the clatter like a sunbeam, providing a respite that elevates Lexicon to breathless heights.
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