Remember the scene in Tron, when the laser atomized Jeff Bridges and then re-created him, in digital form, inside of that old TRS-80? 8 Ft. in the Air does the same thing to old funk records. Drop the worthless Gap In-Store Dance Track "Beautiful" (and when you do, drop it hard) and what's left is a striking synthetic replication of the Rick James/Morris Day catalogue. Benny Blanko's ambitions run the gamut: He liberally punctuates "12 Bits of Funk" with electro-congas and wacka-chicka guitars, then starts the very next track with a slo-mo soul sample and a simple, strutting bass line. Sadly, in the record's final quarter, when Blanko dilutes his compositions with the trappings of standard house music, 8 Ft. starts to go limp. It's an ignoble and unimaginative end for a record that spends most of its life span bubbling over with ideas.