73′s most distinctive talent has always been to hint at the greatest echoes of every musical medium. This smorgasbord of notes arrives late on Screenings with “No Origin,” the frenzied tuning of a radio dial that allows just enough space to filter a jazz trumpet here, a plucky piano there, and bits of conversation melded together to reflect an overarching white noise that can only be biting metaphor.

   Prefuse addresses last year’s critics in a couple of interludes that mock a typical interview with “illiterate” fanboys who only want to take him down a notch. They are, at best, distractions, and only serve to further illustrate the artist’s disillusionment with the music industry’s machine. What doesn’t wash is that Prefuse clearly takes pride in producing tracks for the enlightened; if you don’t “get” his style, you’re not really invited anyway. However, his website profiles the press he’s been privy to in the last few years, and the coverage (Pitchfork, Urb, XLR8R) hardly lends believability to his claims. This would be a small beef, and one chalked up to an artist’s right to be angry at no one in particular, if it didn’t inform so much of the new album. Prefuse sinks into these beats and they come off as not only the random shuffle in his mind that has set him apart for years, but as a comfort blanket/shield that wards off his inherent need to ground the work in realism. Consider “Weight Watching.” Here you have what approaches an actual hook, supported by a dreamy and well-textured digital ash; the clanking and clattering of what is surely a malfunctioning plumbing system, however, swiftly and utterly breaks the spell. It’s a defense mechanism not nearly as buried as his musical intentions and obscures the view of where the record stands as a whole.

     There are moments of bliss on Security Screenings, and they arrive so hungrily anticipated that the dreaded critics Prefuse shies away from may lose their bearings for a moment. Tunde of TV on the Radio assists on “We Leave You In a Cloud of Thick Smoke and Sleep” and Prefuse’s brand of Sigur Ros Rap never seems more wide open and full of possibilities. “With Dirt and Two Texts (Afternoon Version)” is one of the only actual full instrumentals that could work as a single, but of course is nearly devoid of human voice, and leaves only imagining how hard a Ghostface or Aesop Rock could bring it over its pounding, Doom-esque spine. Of course, that way of thinking is exactly what got him into trouble in the first place.

     Having paid for the hook-ups out of his own pocket, Herren certainly gets his money’s worth of MCs: honours are mainly split between the Def Jux crew (Camu Tao on the regretful slacker romance of “Now You’re Leaving”, former guest Aesop Rock swearing hilariously at his car on “Sabbatical With Options” and El-P on single “Hide Ya Face”) and Shaolin soldiers, with Ghostface rhyming El-P straight out whilst the more equally matched Masta Killa and GZA rep the Clan over a granite hard boombap break on “Just The Thought”. Beans turns up briefly to vent very graphic sickness; assisting on a track apiece, Herren’s tour DJ Nobody and indie-hopper Pedro also contribute from behind the hip-hop boards, .

     You’re as likely to encounter Tyondai Braxton wailing like a beatboxing monk or sampladelic hobos The Books laying down some banjo for Herren to splice, however, and arguably the album’s high points are those featuring the gorgeous vocals of On!Air!Library!’s delectable Deheza twins, such as “Pastel Assassins”. Yet the beats themselves always retain soul under their twisted gleam, and stay funky despite the fractures. What’s more, at 21 tracks in an hour, something different and surprising is always sliding into view, so leaving the radio dial in Herren’s hands is a no-brainer. Like Aesop says: “I’m going to point you in one direction. All you have to do is go, I’m not even going to steer.” For a summer soundtrack as luminescently romantic as it is brashly invigorating, point yourselves in Herren’s direction.