Try though I have to learn to love it, something about the already-acclaimed-elsewhere Asa Breed, the second album from Detroit-based artist Matthew Dear, just doesn’t click with me. While I can identify elements that flitter between likeable and Very Good Actually – the record’s pop core beats vibrantly throughout, as fizzy electro is poured atop its spherical form liberally and jovially – the effect it has on me is limited to the surface only. There seems, personally, to be little in the way of depth here; Asa Breed sounds like a highly-stylised piece of work designed purely to attract the right winks and nods.

Which, of course, should go against the most base-level reasons for making music, for making art, in the first place. A man of many side-projects, Dear’s solo guise finds him layering alien glitches and retro bleeps atop spinal arrangements that hark back to the days of Depeche Mode and New Order. There’s a very pure vein of pop running throughout these 13 tracks, and it never shies away from the spotlight of deconstruction. This simplicity – or, at least, an apparent simplicity – is greatly endearing, but as efforts like the opening ‘Fleece On Brain’, all bouncing-ball bass and chattering jump-rope jitters, and the echo-soaked ‘Elementary Lover’ pass by leaving precisely zero impression whatsoever, it’s hard to be truly moved by Dear’s efforts. Categorically not a bad album though it clearly is, it’s equally tough to be wholly swept away by these minimalist works, all thin sheets of noise draped across clear-and-present solid centres. Acoustic diversion ‘Give Me More’ is one of only very few blindsiding moments.

So, while the man’s reasons for making Asa Breed are obvious – after flirtations with techno and a number of remixes, it makes sense to retrogress to simpler, chart-friendlier material – it’s tough indeed to find enough pluses amongst its professionally-executed make-up to warrant a summarisation along the lines of: buy this immediately. With the dance/crossover market currently saturated by a series of renegade masters of post-funk – sorry – Asa Breed feels too lightweight to recommend without caution. It’s neither as ridiculously fun as Chromeo nor as primal as something like Simian Mobile Disco’s fiery debut album. It is good from a technical point of view, but does it capture the heart in the manner that previous plaudits have proclaimed?

No, sorry. Try though I have to hear what’s had other writers conclude that this is a pop masterpiece, I admit my failure. I therefore wish you luck, and consider my opinion rendered.