Rating: 3.25/5 
In some ways, music tastes have shifted since 1996 in a way that favors Vibert’s approach. Drum and bass has, since then, mutated into a number of different forms, most notably dubstep, which can now be heard influencing even the most mainstream of pop music (e.g. Britney Spears’ “Hold It Against Me”). But Vibert’s eclecticism also has managed to remain fresh in the age of mash-ups and endless remixes. Part of the appeal of Back on Time’s tracks is in watching the way Vibert deftly combines numerous different, sometimes clashing sounds and moods. But Vibert never lapses into bludgeoning maximalism, and the way he blends his samples sometimes makes it difficult to ascertain where one ends and another begins. He can also subvert the samples he uses through looping or juxtaposition, as on “Come on My Skeleton,” where a sitar and a wailing, near-operative voice mingle in a way that undermines the gravity of each. Vibert never simply lifts a sample from its source material without altering it in some form or another, cutting away the connective tissue that might link it to the original recording.
Essentially, by freeing sounds from their contexts, Vibert creates something that sounds fresh and, at the same time, unstable. This is, of course, amplified by the rapid, careening pace of drum and bass in general, which effortlessly generates a restless energy that gets under your skin. One standout from the album, “No Reality,” rapidly goes through a series of phases in the span of only six minutes, always coming back to a modulating melodic line that wobbles in and out of tune like a cheap organ. The title comes from a sample proclaiming, “There’s no reality here,” and in a way, this stands for Vibert’s approach as a whole, constantly undermining whatever mood or tone has just been established. Combined with the propulsive, linear drive of the music, this makes listening to the album rather like riding in the passenger seat of a speeding car darting in and out of traffic. Again, the contrast with house music is instructive: where house is rooted in a strong tradition and standardized template – though one that has been constantly reinvented again and again – drum and bass, especially in the hands of Vibert, stands on no stable, solid ground whatsoever, most obviously not house’s rock-solid four-on-the-floor beat.
In this way, Vibert exploits the way drum and bass stands at the nexus of a wide variety of sounds and music cultures. It’s a kind of bastard music, an ever-mutating sound that is difficult to describe but that has nonetheless influenced much subsequent music. This rootlessness is part of its musical appeal as well, producing an endless sense of novelty. But there’s also something tiring about this. Back on Time suffers most in its lack of cohesion, understandable given that this is a collection of outtakes. There’s nothing about this album that feels like a statement of purpose; it’s really just the sound of an earnestly passionate musician goofing around, tinkering with the genetic structure of dance music. This is the source of the album’s greatest appeal – the ability to watch a craftsman at work, one who never produces junk – as well as its most limiting quality.
In the end, the greatest compliment and the harshest criticism regarding Back on Time is that the album makes you want to check out his earlier, more lauded collection Drum ‘n’ Bass for Papa. But that’s hardly a dismissal of Back on Time, which never fails to hold one’s interest. And tracks like “Mind Bending” convey such pure enthusiasm, heard most clearly in a sample of a man gleefully shouting, “Fucking excellent acid house!” that they offer truly exhilarating experiences. It’s hard not to be carried away by the momentum and sheer will on display here, and even if Vibert doesn’t really take us anywhere in the end, it’s still fun to watch him do so.
