Mount Kimbie - Crooks & Lovers

For a subgenre that has so drastically altered the landscape of UK electronic music over the past few years, dubstep has been slow to begin building up a legacy of quality full-length releases. Startlingly obvious exceptions aside - by which we essentially mean both Burial albums - the London-centric scene has instead tended to inspire great records out of those long in the game: Caribou's Dan Snaith and Four Tet's Kieran Hebden have both said as much. While dance-oriented acts have always favoured drip-feeding fans with twelve-inches, and with the likes of Joy Orbison and James Blake still in the early stages of promising careers, quality albums from Benga and, more recently, Ikonika have had little in the way of company. Meanwhile, Gold Panda – not a dubstep musician per se, but perhaps the most exciting electronic talent in the country – has admitted to not being all that fussed about the idea of 'the album'. Unfortunately London duo Mount Kimbie, who, like all of the above, have released some stellar EPs, have done little on their full-length debut to reverse this trend.

For all the hype and anticiapation, Crooks & Lovers is an infuriatingly uneven listen. Where Dominic Maker and Kai Campos successfully mixed immediate mid-tempo and ambient tracks on their Maybes and Sketch On Glass EPs, this flow is largely absent from the eleven tracks on offer here. Which is a real pity, especially given that things actually get off to a quietly encouraging start. 'Tunnel Vision' may be a bit of a nothing opener, but the unassuming 'Would You Know' and beautifully soulful 'Before I MoveOff' get momentum moving quite nicely. The latter's guitar picking and chopped-up vocals are a particular treat. But then the album falls flat for the first time: 'Blind Night Errand' starts off with subtly driving beats but doesn't really go anywhere beyond that, while 'Adriatic' is a puzzlingly dull minute-and-a-half of double bass filler. And here's where the frustration first kicks in, because 'Carbonated', track six, is truly breathtaking. Inventive, deft and just plain thrilling, it sees four minutes pass by in an instant. But once more the pace is slowed right down on 'Ruby', another track that seems to drift by far too easily. And the same can be said for the similarly sleepy but slightly better 'Ode To Bear'. It's only when the in-your-face intro to 'Field' (track nine) hits that you're back engaged. There's still time for the superb 'Mayor' to put itself in contention for pick of the bunch, but predictably there's also room for a slit-your-wrists-boring closer in the form of 'Between Time'.

Such a bumpy ride makes Crooks & Lovers almost distressing to the ears, simply because Mount Kimbie can be so, so good. The standout tracks here - 'Before I Move Off', 'Carbonated' and 'Mayor' - will likely rank among the outstanding moments of electronic music in 2010. The lack of vibrancy elsewhere, however, is galling; the more ambient tracks simply don't work, let alone stack up next to their more energetic counterparts. Given the clear potential, talent and skill the pair possess, it all makes Crooks & Lovers desperately disappointing and a definite missed opportunity.