There's a loose narrative to DJAO, one that begins with a stretch and a yawn in "Good Morning" and ends with the high-tempo but low-energy closer "Can't Make Music Forever." Osuch's toolbox contains meek drum sounds, plaintive instrumentation and his own relaxed coo. He sings in a beautiful high register, which comes at the cost of enunciation. It's an effect that's enticingly ambiguous at first, but as the LP wears on you wish he would just say something clearly—by the end it's like we're listening to Dan Snaith with his mouth sewed shut.
Thankfully, the instrumentals make up for this. Centrepiece "Laura" is a wistful number, smearing the edges into stuttering dub techno. Osuch switches from Ninja Tune-style downtempo to techno and house, and then takes a left turn into dubstep with the fantastically-titled "Depressing Jog Ends Well" (which sounds like the Mala In Cuba ensemble playing in a living room). He even experiments with jittery, footwork-like forms, though it's all padded with that homespun touch—the ticking drums on "Foreign Heart," one of the record's most outgoing tracks, sound more like flapping sheets of paper than proper percussion.
Osuch's subtle approach means you have to hear the whole thing to fully appreciate DJAO. Like many artists with this West Coast mentality—Kid Smpl, Ghost Feet, Devonwho—he doesn't really make an effort to reach out, but he will make you feel at home once you're there. That's what makes DJAO so nice: even through its stylistic fidgeting, it feels like you're sitting in Osuch's living room, sheltered from the steady pitter-patter of the rain outside. And as anyone who lives in the eternally rainy Pacific Northwest will tell you, those are some of our best moments.