iven the increasingly egalitarian nature of computer technology in the new millennium, it is perhaps no surprise that the realm of electronic music has evolved so rapidly. Pretty much anyone can get their hands on some decent computer recording software, with the result that the “electronica” revolution has become truly a movement of the people. No longer is digital music the sole domain of gearheads like Richard D. James or Markus Popp; you don’t need to be able to take apart and reconstruct your own synthesizer to make glitchy techno anymore. But, somewhat counter-intuitively, the other side effect of this democratization is that many less tech-minded artists have been attempting to restore the sense of humanity that Oval and Autechre bled from techno.


Nowadays, any average indie artist with an iBook and a copy of ProTools can create a super-crisp studio sound, as well as incorporating electronic effects into their music. The results, from the rock side of the digital revolution, have been unsurprisingly mixed -- we’ve been hit with a swarm of mostly mediocre bands trying desperately to spice up their undistinguished sound with a few clicks and swooshes, and it hasn’t been pretty. From the electronic side, however, things look much nicer. People like Chantal Passamonte (AKA Mira Calix) have been remarkably successful at merging the analog with the digital, reminding us (as Aphex Twin once did before he got too snide for his own good) that electronic music need not sacrifice its humanity to forge ahead into the future.


On Skimskitta, the second full-length Mira Calix album, former Warp Records publicist Passamonte inserts her skittery Aphex-ized beats into her own surroundings, merging the soundtrack of her life with the fractured futuristic vision we’ve come to expect from the Warp roster. On the surface, Calix’s music isn’t much different from that of most of her labelmates. The beats tend to be slightly off-kilter (though certainly more traditionally danceable than a typical Aphex Twin record), and she matches the strange rhythms with warm, sinewy synths in the high register.


But Calix also draws from a more naturalistic palette than most modern IDM artists. She uses piano, keyboards, her own voice, and sounds recorded around her country home as sources, resulting in a much more inviting record than the average BPM-heavy glitch-fest. On “Sixnot6,” Calix manipulates various ratcheting, clicking, and thumping sounds into a rhythmic call-and-response that evokes images of a nighttime walk through the woods. Crickets are all around underfoot, animals rustle through the bushes, and an owl cries out; somewhere in the distance, wind chimes tinkle at a far-off home. Skimskitta’s strength is this synthesis of the natural with the digital to create something that rests comfortably in between. “The Wolf, the Sheep, and the Door” uses similar sounds, creating a pseudo-industrial clatter that slowly builds to a climax accented by Passamonte’s ghostly murmurs.


The album’s beauty lies largely in its simplicity, but so too does its weakness. Each track resides in the same sonic environment, and over the course of an hour the record’s unrelenting prettiness begins to get a bit boring. Calix has no shortage of ideas, and each track on its own merits has a unique sound, but when taken as a whole they all start to blend together. Skimskitta’s minimal soundscapes are certainly refreshing, but these songs are a little too light to really make an impact in the long term. Too often, Calix relies on the lovely sound of her sources to make an impression, rather than crafting a truly interesting track. The best bits come whenever she manipulates her sampled outdoor sounds into pulsating rhythms -- thus “Woody,” “Distracted2,” and the aforementioned “Sixnot6” and “The Wolf, the Sheep, and the Door” stand out as the album’s most accomplished moments. Everything else is a little too gorgeous; she seldom duplicates the slight sense of danger and tension that weaves through her best work, instead infusing everything with the sunlit brilliance of a spring day.