Give {$Ronnie Martin} a cigar: the kid takes his keyboards to heart. Taking a jagged left from the clickety {\twee} of {^Tick Tock Treasury}, {$Martin} turns in {^Hello, Mannequin}, a chilly neon record ripped entirely on a Roland System 100 analog synth rig. It's a move in dedication to what that sound did before, and {$Martin}'s songwriting reflects those influences predictably. {$Depeche Mode}'s early decadence is a touchstone here, as are the breezy robot tones of types like {$Jean Michel Jarre}. {^Mannequin} is also the third volume in {$Martin}'s {^Legacy} series, his ambitious effort to weave the wonderfulness of {%Jesus Christ} into {\synth pop}'s mechanistic lovecheese. Or something like that. "Swept away from life/Awakened to each day/With the sense that no here will stay," he chatters in {&"Song for All Time,"} and if it's in reference to the Rapture, well, at least the cut sounds like {$the Magnetic Fields} doing a sexy version of {$Peter Gabriel}'s {&"Games Without Frontiers."} The album really perks up in its midsection, with highlights like the percolating {$a-ha-ness} of {&"From Mount Chorus"} ("A song to reach the ends of the Earth!"), a touchingly weird tribute to inventor {%Nikola Tesla}, and {&"Post Calendar,"} where {$Martin}'s maudlin delivery reaches new levels of fatalistic detachment. He's {$Morrissey}, downloaded into a ROM pack. In the end, {^Hello, Mannequin}'s larger {^Legacy} agenda doesn't really reveal itself overtly. There's no burning bush. But the album is another stylistic triumph for {$Ronnie Martin} and his {$Joy Electric}, which keeps finding new and invigorating ways to recast the keyboard past. Thanks be to Roland. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide