Given Chet Faker‘s profile in his homeland over the past few years, it’s easy to forget the Melbourne producer had only put out a single solo EP before Built on Glass. Since his cover of “No Diggity” and 2012’s Thinking In Textures, Faker has been the Australian poster boy for the nebulous intersection of R&B and soul-influenced electronic music. Either somewhere between James Blake and Tom Krell or a leader of the ignominious “Australian sound” depending on who you ask, Faker’s standard-bearing might seem a little premature. Built on Glass, as his first full-length, is therefore his case to the world.
There’s some premeditation to this statement of his. Faker reportedly scrapped his album twice in pursuit of refining what Chet Faker is supposed to sound like. The result is some inconsistency as Faker tries to reconcile every avenue of his interest with his existing identity, and almost certain disappointment for anyone who expected 52 minutes of Chet as soft-spoken sex facilitator. In the confusion, though, is the chance for surprise, and Faker capitalizes with a hint of just how far his horizons can expand beyond the flaccid cracker-crooning of his previous work.
