Another Suicide album, another different sound. Martin Rev plays minimalist techno beats on American Supreme, which are kind of fun, but you quickly realize how repetitive they can get when not backed up by the layers and rhythmic complexity of classic techno albums, like those by Underworld. At the very least, they don’t necessarily play the exact same beat for an entire five-minute song.

These beats are just cold, but not in a way that’s going to keep you awake at night like Suicide once did. Alan Vega chants weird shit over the beats; you know the formula, except this time, Vega sounds like he’s trying too hard to be scary and menacing with a goblin-like growl. He nailed something eerie before by sounding like a normal dude with something subtly off about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Stylistically, this is more interesting than the dance pop of Why Be Blue, but the album ends up worse overall because of the fact it’s such a repetitive drag and lasts for nearly a damn hour. It’s an interesting-enough experiment, but like all forced experimentation, the songwriting is dull and uninspiring. American Supreme ain’t got no heart.