Gianluigi Di Constanza’s day-job has included audio managing and production work for Stephen Spielberg, David Bowie, and Nokia. But his hobby is a lot more exciting. Under the name Bochum Welt, he has released some of the richest, smartest, and most expressive electronic music of the last decade, much of it for Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label. Until now it has been extremely difficult to track down, but the two-disc Robotic Operating Buddy thankfully changes that, with one disc devoted to new material and mixes and the other collecting his classic Rephlex sides (with the regrettable omission of his very first EP for the label). The only similar reissue out there, a Japanese CD comprising merely half of disc two’s material, is going at a rate of $200 right now on the Amazon marketplace. What’s crazy is that the best of these tracks may even justify such an outrageous cost—they have that Holy Grail-quality of seeming like they’ve been in your life forever after just the first listen.

But I’m getting stuck on the second disc, and we still have to get the new stuff on disc one out of the way. It’s not quite fair to look at it that way, as the new tracks are almost all solid, working the territory between electro, ambient, acid, and video game soundtrack that Bochum Welt pioneered. But they don’t offer anything new, and most of them couldn’t quite hang with the old, so it’s hard to spend too much time with them when the bounty of the vintage material awaits. That’s the risk a veteran artist runs by coupling a new release with a reissue, and one would think that if Di Constanza believed strongly enough in his latest offerings, he would want them evaluated on their own terms. Nevertheless, a couple pieces do manage to make an impression.  “Interlude (Extended)”, rescued from 1999’s (non-Rephlex) cheese-fest Martians and Spaceships and shorn of the cartoony beats that ruined the original, emerges as a soft, thoughtful ditty that gains from another minute or two of repetition. “Saint (Dmix)” also distinguishes itself in its manic, “try anything” ingenuity.

Throw on disc two, though, and the greater sonic commitment is immediately apparent—it feels “live”, and the newer material instantly becomes “canned” in retrospect—whether this is the result of a move from analog synths to digital and/or plug-ins is not clear, because no information is given on the equipment used on any of these tracks. But the fundamental superiority of the sound couldn’t be more clear, even though the opener, “Extra Life”, has more electro spring to it, and less depth than most of what will follow. The next couple of tracks will flirt with drum ‘n bass and some harder-edged mid-‘90s sounds, but, already, melodic introspection is beginning to take over the mood, as beats are pared down and acid bass-lines softened, video game-esque leads are introduced, and ambient loops seem increasingly to be pulling the strings on everything else.

All of this is mere preparation for the loping dreamscapes of “Lunakhod” and “B2”, both from the magnificent Module 2 EP. The first recalls Richard D. James-era Aphex Twin in the character of its lead, but with a simple, reverbed snare, sparse, spacey effects, and an unconscious counter-melody all supporting the realization of the kind of relaxed emotional state that Aphex has almost never trusted himself with. “B2” is even better, balancing thick, synthetic hand-claps, a quick, light electro bass that is occasionally off-set by toy-metallic blips, and a celestial synth pad that’s eventually joined by one of the simplest, sweetest, most undeniable synth leads you will ever hear. The sum total of these elements expresses wonder, resolve, levity, and play all suspended together, waiting to fall when the three-minute spell is broken.

They do fall, onto the elementary, rhythmic platter of “Desktop Robotics”—both hypnotic and slightly tedious—but there will be plenty more gentle treasures to come, including the Boards Of Canada sound-alike “Leafs Brought By the Wind” (although its 1997 vintage makes the who-influenced-who game a tricky one). Even better are a live version of “Asteroids Over Berlin”, with its recurrent gauzy swells, the gloriously prolonged, trapped-Vocoder fade-out of “Feelings on a Screen”, and “Fortune Green”, a return to Aphex-Twin-meets-video-game territory that undercuts an upfront, proactive beat with pensive melody and counter-melody, sketching a nostalgia that seems to be evaporating as we listen.

The reissued material as a whole may have a similar effect on anyone who remembers the peaks of ‘90s electronica, but it is hardly for them alone. These tracks combine emotional accessibility and a subtle, architectural sense of construction in a way that should appeal even to those who are usually indifferent to electronic music, while the sequencing aspires to an almost narrative poignancy. Although it’s regrettable that the two discs will be evaluated as one release, it’s hard to imagine a stronger reissue will come out all year, and tempting to think that Bochum Welt may finally receive the recognition he’s long deserved.