Time waits for no one. Neither for fitness guru Jane Fonda and musical marketing guru Madonna, nor for other strenuous fighters of telomeres and free radicals in the name of eternal youth. One of the possible way to escape from nature is leaving some (possibly good, but not necessarily valuable!) trace through arts, science or ethics. Former prodigious boy of IDM, glitch and breakcore scene, the Venezuelan beat-juggler Miguel Trost De Pedro, known as Kid606 since the times when he used to find his ways into the hearts of fans of Aphex Twin or other IDM glorious forerunners, wittingly restrains himself from joking about his anagraphical ageing (updating his moniker into Adult606 could be equally ridicolous as if the above-mentioned Madonna would have turned her name into Holy MILF), but he rather prefers to refurbish his style by putting the punk aesthatics he enucleated in his sound aside. The novelty for Kid606's sound in "Lost in the Game" is the prevalence of melody over hotchpotches of samples and beats, as it's clear since the initial "Godspeed You African American Emperor" - a funny pun based on the name of the notorious Canadian post-rock band Godspeed You Black Emperor with a possible allusion to the forthcoming American presidential voting days, which will decide the leader of further butcheries for oil and money - as well as the suppuration of a more pensive mood as if ripeness would have broght more waggles for thought and soul than for muscles and bones, which have been digested by Kid606 with the same old caustic mood he use to express by the choice of titles ("Night Club vs. Book Club", "I Want To Join a Cult", "I Need to Start a Cult", "Big Black Ketamine Jesus", Left Hand Pathfinder" and so on). The function of beats sounds different than his past tracks: their stage presence seems to be aimed to furnish melodies, beats and other percussive elements are more like dots to join melodic lines, which often leaves a sonic trail in the tide of each track (as if they were the pleasant sensation of an awakening after a nice dream) and the loud and somewhat grumbling basslines, which shakes many moments of the album - , sound like absorbing the medicinal properties of blooming fluffy organs, flutey synths and arcade games' squeezing, so much as I'd say some of the better tracks are almost or completely beatless ("Cardamom's Gone Soft" or the feeble lovely paleness and the feeling of vanishing of the final "I'm Sick but I Ain't Dead") together with many brilliant rhythimical ones as well ("Baroque and Out of Money", "Step Into the Light You Fucking Idiot" and "Left Hand Pathfinder" are definitively my favorite ones). Regardless of the reasons, identity crisis or religious-tinged flashes of inspiration, I'd say this unusual (more adult-like?) garment is going to keep on divining his listener's tastes.