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Sixth in a series of never-quite-the-same s from Michael Cretu, the Bucharest-born electronic musician/studio wiz known as Enigma, A iori has the capacity to delight one camp of Enigma devotees while it perplexes another. Less overtly than earlier s and devoid of female singers in lead-vocalist roles (no Ruth-Ann, no Sandra), A iori nevertheless stands as a worthwhile that at its best moments handsomely displays Cretu's talents for effective songcraft and imaginative sound design. The 54-minute disc--an ode to science and discovery rather than brainy erotica--launches with two impressive instrumentals, "Eppur Si Muove" ("and yet it does move," a phrase attributed to Galileo following his heresy conviction for asserting that the earth rotates around the sun) and "Feel Me Heaven," gorgeous tracks that are part audio space probes, part pulsing Euro electronica. Momentum wanes (or chills) until Cretu strings together a series of tracks that use a heady amalgam of ambient, techno, dance, and rock textures: "Hello and Welcome," "20,000 Miles Over the Sea," "Sitting on the Moon," and the dense, edgy "The Alchemist," which evokes notions of a 21st-century version of Ultravox. "Moon" stands out in particular, guided by a subtle pop melody that exudes the gentle irresistibility of Dido's best work. Cretu wisely limits (or eliminates) the use of Gregorian chants and ethnic voices, once-fresh ideas now demoted to gimmickry. He lets his own voice, a ra take on Peter Gabriel, carry this disc's three vocal-driven tracks to mixed effect. While not everything glitters here, enough does that A iori warrants investigation by earnestly inquisitive Enigma followers. --Terry Wood