No, I didn't know much about it either. But then I'm not really plugged into the populist media here in London. So, there was a Thames Festival in London last weekend. Probably held a bit too late; during the arse end of summer as temperatures drop and clouds start to gather in force.

But despite my dislike of 'official' government endorsed parties, this seemed to be a worthy alternative to the Notting Hill Festival. Which has become embroiled in all sorts of political and organisational wranglings. I can't really comment too much on that because I haven't been since 1997.

But the sheer visual spectacle of seeing the Thames and its protective concrete building-scape being engulfed by jarring colours and lights proved entertaining and memorable. Words and pictures of the mini electronic festival that was held outside the Tate posted up soon.

Responsible for one of the few lo-fi pop albums that I genuinely return on a regular basis (2003's astonishing 'Let's Get Ready to Crumble'). Matthew Adam Hart returns with even more fiercely original still-life observations. That previous work contained so many moments of sonic trickery, deft turns of melody and vocal delivery of sheer joy that it seemed overwhelming on first listen.

'Our Thickness' pulls no punches and each track comes complete with a chewy centre of pure sugar. Whereas most guitar albums have one centrepiece track, this album is all centrepieces. Singalong lyrics / playground melodies / echoes drenched in drama. Like all the best pop music, this only gets better with repitition.

Previously known for off-the-wall excursions into techno and house. Lacing his low din 4/4 with bursts of sonic mischievousness has, up until now, been his trademark. But in comparison, this is quite restrained, sophisticated even. As if he's come out in a new suit, cocktail drink in one hand but still wearing his old sneakers.

The scuzzy schaffel of 'The Animal' reminds you of its Berlin origins. Propulsive minimalia within 'You don't know' and 'Orange Moon' are loops held in stasis until decay sets in. But during the closing phases of the album, he dispenses with the beats altogether and leads us through fractured, reflective passages of digital dread. 'Alien Radio Duststar' evoking Fennesz's more condensed efforts and 'The kids are playing in the park' ending the album with experimentalist abstraction.

Been listening to this off and on for the best part of a year. Still can't find anything interesting to say about it.

Small tip: sticking on Hecker's 'Sun Pandamonium' straight after will make you realise the true application of computer based music.

Having a killer opening to an album really helps. In this case, the slow syllabic house punch of 'De Papel' is so good, it appears twice! 'Drums & Feathers' keeps it Chilean and minimal.

'Well' can quite rightly be compared to synth-pop reductionists the Junior Boys. Imperfect vocals hold together plucked b-lines and ghostly chords. 'New Life' even stirring up echoes of DFA, with sneering vocals, lo-slung bass and street-lit melodies. Mention must also go to the title track; coming on like Berliner Grime.

Effortlessly engaging.

I don't think I even bother listening to 'electronica' these days. I've tended to settle into musical areas of purity or extremity. Electronica seems too diluted, gentle, nice for my current palette. Attributes that will no doubt appeal to others.

So that same indifference is directed towards this, a fifteen track CD-R compilation from Cardiff based Machine Records. Some nice ideas and sounds in amongst the unusual band names (Lifting Gear Engineer, anyone?) but nothing is pushed to the edge. Everything has a followable time signature or recognisable melody. Mego it most certainly isn't.

Later tracks move towards Ninja-inspired moments of jittery jazz and Cubase hip-hop with reasonable success. Whilst containing nothing to bring me back, fans of grass-roots electronic music will surely find something to whet their appetite.