Sorry I Make You Lush

When Luke Vibert puts out a record under his Wagon Christ alias, it typically means you’re getting the strongest juxtapositions of his long-running ability to mix the sacred (a deep melodic curiosity and a strong rhythmic drive) and the profane (shamelessly goofy funk laden with semi-campy throwback analog synths). That takes a skilled hand; a heavier one wouldn’t be able to pull off the bizarre confluences of musty old retrofuture junkshop Moog noises and oddly beautiful reflectiveness that, at its best, reveals sampling as another form of saudade. The familiarity of the funky breaks on Sorry I Make You Lush make it one of Vibert’s more directly accessible albums, and that can carry a lot; manic cut-and-paste g-funk wig-out “The Funnies,” the computer-lab b-boy-isms in “Quadra y Discos,” and the oddly wistful, 007-strings-laced pop-lock reverie “Shadows” use those beats to irreverently quirky yet deeply sincere ends.