In practice, that's sort of the case. Purely as a work of synthesizer programming and arranging, LP impresses: it's truly an epic journey through every crevice of a supremely detailed, wide-eyed soundscape. It'd be easy to pass off a record this sprawling as a total mess, but few albums dare to go this deep into their chosen musical remit. And what constitutes this album's sound is often pretty interesting, if beguilingly so. "Now You Do," one of the record's longest stop-offs, lands as close to Phil Collins (D'eon's obvious vocal touchstone) as it does to Machinedrum; "Al-Qiyamah," the record's big conclusion, combines autotune, museum-grade Roland drum machines, and a chord progression that wouldn't sound out of place on a Rihanna album. There's something to be said for these big, bursting moments, which make for something like fully buffered digital religious experiences. But D'eon impresses most when he's working with a bit less: the warm pulse and skittish breakbeat of "Transparency Pt. II" and the lush synthscape of "I Look Into the Internet" reveal an artistry that's occasionally lost in the grandeur of the project at large.
But ultimately, LP doesn't feel particularly profound: its concoction of curious reference points, as cheesy as they are potentially earnest, is tenuously constructed, built to last only as long as current generation smartphones. Producers like Grimes (with whom D'eon shared an EP on Hippos In Tanks last year) and Laurel Halo make a deeper, longer-lasting impact even though their music takes on a lot less. D'eon obviously has the dedication to take on an epic concept, but he may need to reel himself in before he can craft his masterpiece.