That contrast lives in his music as Body Meat: Blake-ian vocal hooks get chopped up against mutant MIDI rhythms partway between Nyege Nyege and Nobuo Uematsu, and no cartoonishly obtuse sound is too stiff to loosen up into an elastic excuse to dance. Starchris, Body Meat’s long-awaited full-length debut, makes it seem as if all the various genres and sounds currently percolating through our world might’ve been secretly emanating from his all along. It’s the kind of genre-splitting that’s become a hallmark of hyperpop, but Starchris never comes off like a gimmicky mashup. As plugged-in as all his fastidiously designed timbres might make him seem, Taylor’s approach is decidedly old-school in spirit. Throughout Starchris, Taylor decodes the anything-goes outlook of the modern internet addict and brings it hurtling into the real world.