The Air Force is a mechanical wonder. Warm, but robotic, it spins noise and clunky jam gears, setting in motion an apparatus eager to pluck synthetic heartstrings.

“Buzz Saw” opens the experiment with delicate piano & chimes, stark snare, and languid vocals, as if the Frankenstein is just starting to wake up. Then “Boy Soprano” kicks in with awakened joy. After a chimy stroll, “Vulture Piano” regains the velocity as a slap-happy, toe-tapper. From there, the album goes numb and slows down into hazy calculations until “Save Me”, a rolling, orchestral plea, afterwards collapsing back into the lull.

Symphonic and artificial, The Air Force struggles to support the density of Jamie Stewart’s vocals, but at least produces a level of enchantment that makes it worthy of curiosity. At times charismatic, the album pushes its distinctive sound forward, but doesn’t have the strength to engrave it.