Five grippingly widescreen, warmly immersive, dubwise soundscapes — propulsively roiling, droning and ticking, smudging the limits of their own coherence.
“I’d been thinking a lot about this idea of skewed club tracks that constantly shift in and out of time like they’re on the precipice of dissolving or collapse”, says Melbourne-based producer Kane Ikin. He continues: “Straining against whatever holds them together but maintaining that tension. Tarkovsky calls it ‘a space frozen in a dynamic equilibrium’. I’d also been listening to a lot of Steve Reich, Monoton and Arthur Russell, particularly how their work can induce this meditative trance-like state through drifting repetition in rhythm and melody”. Comes in a silk-screened cover — freshly evacuated, awed, anxious — like a still from Force Majeure.