As DJ music, like so much else in pop culture, becomes a matter of how many special effects and jump cuts can be compressed into a given space of time, the work of Richie Hawtin – a k a Plastikman, Fuse, Concept, etc. – seems more radical than ever. Part of Detroit techno's second generation, he has built his name(s) on a deceptive brand of psychedelic electrominimalism, which he takes to delicious new extremes on the long-awaited Consumed. Within a cool 'n' fuzzy ambience that recalls Eno's On Land, Hawtin drops gentle, dubby machine beats that work their way slowly under your skin. Wave forms pulse languorously, grow more insistent, then slip away like half-grasped memories. It's all incredibly emotive somehow, and the way the tracks refuse obvious climax is Consumed's secret weapon: This is tantric techno, long on foreplay, aiming more for full-body orgasms than for big-beat-style wad shooting. But like those Magic Eye optical illusions, you need to focus your attention to get the full picture: Widescreen ghosts of melodies, textures and harmonics flicker elusively amid the beats, which are otherwise so foursquare simple you may find yourself checking the CD player to see whether it's stuck (especially during "Cor Ten," which sets distant construction-site rhythms to a stolid sub-bass oompah). Sure, the album's surface austerity may drive your average classic-rock fan screaming from the room. But relax into it and, like a really good massage, Consumed is likely to make you feel things you've never felt before. (RS 790-791)

WILL HERMES