1. President. The triumphant IAMX electrocircus is back in town, vampire seduction of the sequencer bites into your goosebumped flesh, the jester has pins sticking out of his head, he has such sights to show you. The synthpad Imperial March of the unsuccessful, undefeated.

2. The Alternative. A generous chunk of anthemic crack that gets you addicted on the first hit, just like God intended. Is pop music finally finished, having devoured itself Ouroboros-style? Or has in fact all good music become pop music? This epic Down to the Underground stomp is for hunted heroines and Bavarian beauties* everywhere.

3. Nightlife. Alan Wilder-esque, World in My Eyes-like, deranged bass-line intro is promptly joined by a badly-sampled guitar riff and Corner's desperate drone to take you on a guided tour of bulletproof glass Kama Sutra dancefloors in stainless steel cities, tonight's password is "Fidelio". The comedown is appropriately subdued and menacing, just when you thought your life was turning into an LSD-induced PG-13 snuff movie.

5. Song of Imaginary Beings. Second Life for the emo crowd. How many of you have tried constructing avatars of past and future lovers against the backdrop of vintage analogue wheezing?

6. The Negative Sex. Is underproduced, faux-teutonic, silicon thump intro enough to get your undivided attention? Good. Now, whip out that MiniDV tape of your bitterest, coldest fuck (16:9, no less), invert colours, watch the blueish bodies desperately flicker fifty times per second as they pound each other against black sheets in all of their digitally unmastered glory, while the deceptively angelic vocal of Sue Denim lubricates you for the unremitting chorus. Lather, rinse, repeat.

9. Spit It Out. This little Cubase-powered clicky gem manages to squeeze so much emotion out of such profoundly unironic motorik sensibility, that you begin to count the days until Erasure are going to be hailed as the new Beatles, at the same time wondering if you actually dared to live in such a world. Then you realise you already do, and this realisation brings more sheepish contentment than pure terror, strangely enough.

10. After Every Party I Die. He loves you, but he's chosen darkness.

11. This Will Make You Love Again. For those hardcore Houellebecqian cynics unable to give up the quaint notion of unconditional love. For all the zombie quirkyalones, so energetically joyful out there, in a fluorescent, carefree void. This one's for you, soul sisters and soul brothers. Put it on your waterproof iPods when you finally get around to slashing your wrists in a bathtub. Fake grand piano never sounded so grand at 44.1 kHz, indeed.

*The crossfire fight for action in-between your thighs. Oh, the gleeful savagery!