Majenta springs to life with a trio of tracks that hearken back to earlier work, only this time they hit harder and swell larger. "Too Shy" spurts and splatters with a striking amount of layers all working in chaotic tandem, and a slippery, lubricated bassline that feels like it's constantly snaking its way out of reach. If Edgar's cold brand of mechanically-assisted funk has ever seemed at odds with his overtly sexual themes, it's not a problem on "Sex Drive," where the drum machines go beserk in ecstatic climax behind lyrics like "pull out my dick and let you lick." Meanwhile, he basically becomes a sleazy preacher on the unwisely titled "This One's for the Children" (here's a hint: it really, really isn't), and he plays with vague S&M themes on "I Need Your Control" propped erect by stiff, throbbing drums.
We're all familiar with Edgar's deadpan style as well as his love for silken vocoders (well-represented here on "Touch Yr Bodytime" and the arpeggio-heavy "Heartkey"), but Majenta betrays Edgar's new label in its midsection, with two tracks that make pouty, seductive faces at contemporary bass music. "Indigo Mechanix (3D)" and "Let Yrself Be" both feature chopped-and-diced sampled vocals rather than Edgar's own, and ride on short, jittery jabs, like Edgar has Sepalcure chained up in his musty sex dungeon. These two tracks edge towards a potential evolution in his sound, bolstered by the short interludes "Attempt to Make It Last" and "Hrt Real Good," which utilise massive, gated drums. That echo chamber does a lot to make his music sound bigger and better than ever, but the interludes are teasingly brief, like a particularly heartbreaking case of premature... well, you know.
But for all the talk of moving forward, Edgar still sounds most at home in his tacky bachelor pad of a comfort zone. My first experiences with Majenta left me unsatisfied, but it's an album that grows on you like a particularly nasty case of whatever Edgar sang about on "I Wanna Be Your STD" back in the day. "My rhythm is a physical motion," he sang on previous album XXX, but that dubious lyric has never felt more relevant than on Majenta, where Edgar's sex addict schtick finally feels in tune with the beats. He's still no Prince, but he's more enjoyable than ever as just Jimmy Edgar.