experimental records full of frazzled noises and arrhythmic beats (Pomme Fritz and Orbvs Terrarvm) that alienated many of the group's fans.

Now the Orb have returned with Orblivion, which harks back to the linear constructs of the group's early material while retaining the anarchic sound effects and humor of their later stuff. Most of the songs feature sparse melodies that swim through galactic pulses, sonar blips and assorted computer sounds. Beats drift in and out, picking up intensity then dissipating like steam, and echoing voices pop up from time to time to impart surreal bits of wisdom. The overall effect is a scintillating contrast of chaos and euphony somewhat akin to playing Nintendo while listening to the Cocteau Twins.

Orblivion's catchiest song, "Toxygene," bobs merrily on a cartoonish keyboard hook and dub bass line in a manner reminiscent of the group's hit "Little Fluffy Clouds." The short, arresting "Pi" begins with the sounds of sea gulls and a car whizzing by, then mutates into a grinding track riddled with distorted beats and the sound of a whirring dentist's drill. The Orb are at their best when they imbue their mind-bending music with Monty Python-esque levity. "S.A.L.T." is strung together with samples of a lunatic giving bizarre signs of the apocalypse, and the six-second-long "72" is a mock TV jingle with the lyrics, "The youth of America on LSD," from Hair.

The Orb may still be off on their own world somewhere, but they're closer to Earth than they've been in years – close enough, perhaps, to begin setting suns and starting fires alongside their electronic offspring. (RS 758)

JON WIEDERHORN