musicOMH's Top 100 Albums of 2013

The 2013 sophomore album by bass guitar virtuoso Stephen Bruner (A.K.A. Thundercat) is remarkably ahead of his already-impressive 2011 debut LP *The Golden Age of Apocalypse*. Having lent his magic-fingered skills to everyone from Erykah Badu to Suicidal Tendencies, it’s interesting to hear what he has cultured and crafted for his own album. Over retro-modern analogue blips and bleeps that recall vintage Sun Ra recordings, Bruner croons through murky fidelity that recalls Ariel Pink\'s Haunted Graffiti. Throughout the opening song, his bass pulses with a less-is-more foundation of pedaling rhythms. But this allows plenty of room for Bruner to overlap dense layers of progressive playing on other instruments. The following “Heartbreaks + Setbacks” pushes the advanced musicianship to the side, encouraging barbed melodies and a robust rhythmic groove to take center stage. On “Tron Song,” he deviates from the indie-infused R&B to bestow an astral folk tune trimmed with spacey filigree; it’s sure to hit home with anyone into Terry Callier’s 1972 opus *What Color Is Love*.

In 2011, Youth Lagoon\'s *Year of Hibernation* hit the ether; it was called a \"bedroom recording,\" but the set by Boise, Idaho\'s Trevor Powers felt like much more. Eerily intangible but melodic, elusive but memorable, *Hibernation* mesmerized fans and critics alike. Powers continues in the same vein with *Wondrous Bughouse*, which somehow feels as amorphous as *Year of Hibernation* yearned to be under its pesky melodies and song structures. Outnumbering the shapeless bad-trip excursions (\"Daisyphobia,\" \"Through Mind and Back\") are numerous actual songs, like the lovely \"Mute,\" with Smith\'s warbly voice reaching through white noise and gurgling keyboard haze, a churning rhythm section, and simple, searching guitar. \"Pelican Man\" has a Beatles-on-acid vibe that tumbles and glows under a blanket of scratchy reverb, and \"Attic Doctor\" is a woozy, calliope-soundtracked dream. \"Third Dystopia\" and \"Dropla\" build slowly and majestically, with delay and effects pedals running synths and guitars through a time machine that confounds the laws of aural physics. *Wondrous* is produced by Ben Allen (Washed Out, Deerhunter).

On her striking debut, the conservatory-trained singer declaims over melodies that stop and start with her every syllable, then waft around her like a pleasant daydream. She approaches music with the swing of a jazz singer, the heft of a soul performer, and the tonic clarity of a classical vocalist. She combines those impulses on sunny pop gems like “Like the Morning Dew,” while “Green Garden” bubbles with handclap percussion and light xylophone melodies. The full orchestra that backs many of these tracks serves to heighten her infectious sense of wonder.

From one of the country’s most inimitable songwriters – Portland, Oregon’s Laura Veirs – comes her ninth full-length album. Beautiful, lush and at times deeply dark, "Warp and Weft" captures the intensity of motherhood, love and violence. Primarily electric-guitar driven, it is a fever dream of an album and could well be Veirs’ best work to date. It builds on the uniform praise and commercial success of 2010's "July Flame," which Utne Reader dubbed “idiosyncratic and captivating” and received glowing reviews from The New York Times, Pitchfork, NPR and others. The recording of "Warp and Weft" (a weaving term) was a community effort. Produced in Portland in March 2013 by Veirs’ longtime collaborator Tucker Martine, the album features Jim James, kd lang, Neko Case, Brian Blade and members of The Decemberists and many more. Veirs sings not only of mid-winter suns, white blossoming cherry trees and melting ice, but also suicide, gun violence and war. She weaves threads of old folk songs including “Motherless Children” as well as stories of folk-art hero Howard Finster and jazz harpist Alice Coltrane. “I think of this record as a tapestry where disparate elements come together and are stronger and more lovely as a result,” says Veirs. Veirs was eight months pregnant with her second child during the recording; she says her experience as a mother brought about some of the more beautiful and painful songs. “I’m haunted by the idea that something terrible could happen to my kids but that fear pushes me to embrace the moment. This record is an exploration of extremes – deep, dark suffering and intense, compassionate love.” "Laura makes such complicated melodies sound easy,” says Neko Case. “The first listen is so comforting and warm, then after two or three listens, the time when you wanna start singing along, you are struck by the thoughtful work that went into making the sounds; the twists and turns she makes like a light gazelle. It's masterful; as a listener, it makes me feel loved. As a musician it makes me feel challenged and engaged. It's a complete protein!

If you ask Nik Colk Void who was in the back of her head while she wrote \"Here Again,\" the earworm-iest song on Factory Floor\'s debut album, she\'ll say Michael Jackson. Which seems like a stretch, but listen to it again. The moonwalk melodies are there, lurking just under the surface. They\'re simply distorted and hammered into the ground by lots of other loopy elements, from the inhuman drum fills of Gabe Gurnsey to the criss-crossing keys of Dominic Butler. And then there\'s Void\'s own contributions: guitars that sound more like synths and vocals that somehow remind us of The Cocteau Twins. Only, you know, eminently danceable. All of Factory Floor\'s songs unfold like this—in a manner that strip-mines its influences (industrial, acid techno, the \'80s definition of electro) and then obscures them in squiggly, elasticized overtones that sound like nothing *but* Factory Floor. Years of buzz-building singles (including the album standouts \"Fall Back\" and \"Two Different Ways\") and rigorous closed-door rehearsals led to this, and it shows. The only thing left to do is listen. No wonder that the first song is called \"Turn It Up.\"

Hailed as his "most diverse and satisfying statement to date“ (Resident Advisor) and a “victory lap for the power of the loop“ (XLR8R), THE FIELD’s LOOPING STATE OF MIND (KOMPAKT CD 94) – Axel Willner’s third full-length under his most prevalent moniker – ranked high in those 2011 charts, being featured on virtually every “best albums“ list known to man and reaching well into 2012 with sold-out concerts and its universally acclaimed remixes (KOMPAKT 263). Now, the Berlin-based Swede presents CUPID’S HEAD, the first album recorded solo since his debut FROM HERE WE GO SUBLIME (KOMPAKT CD 57) and a powerful touch-up of his landmark hypnotism, but also a departure for new shores both personal and musical. A first glance at the black cover already signals the profound changes entering the well-defined artistic framework of THE FIELD, where the tools may remain the same, but the outcome significantly differs from what has gone before. “When I started to work on CUPID’S HEAD, it was quite awkward“, says Axel, “I felt that I had nothing to put into a new album and I’m not the type to sit down and force something out in the studio. But then, after a few modest attempts, I got a first loop together and running.“ That initial loop acted as a breakthrough agent and became NO.NO..., an intense piece of concrete poetry dissolving in gorgeous swathes of sound and CUPID’S HEAD’s key tune…“it sets a mood for the entire album“. This mood is a discernibly complex one and not easy to categorize, for THE FIELD’s multi-layered approach to sound now transcends its technicalities and reaches far beyond mere production values, entering a phase where its original message has become the medium for wildly differing emotions that also draw from Axel’s many side-projects: “take the end of BLACK SEA for example and then listen to what I’ve done as BLACK FOG... there’s a strong connection“, says the producer, referring to the ubiquitous traces of his alter egos - like LOOPS OF YOUR HEART’s ambient bliss or BLACK FOG’s dark disco inspired by classic horror movie soundtracks - that can be found all over CUPID’S HEAD. From opening epic THEY WON’T SEE ME to the more upbeat (and very “Field-ish“) title track, the gauzy softcore of A GUIDED TOUR or the intriguing ambient ornamentation of 20 SECONDS OF AFFECTION, CUPID’S HEAD invites the listener to a highly immersive experience that feels as comfortable on the dance floor as it does in private. Continuously wandering off into the woods of its very unique sound world, the album finds not one, but many rabbit holes to bravely explore, basically rewriting the love letter to the loop that lies at the center of THE FIELD’s quasi techno to include more than that one recipient. More open than hermetic, CUPID’S HEAD presents itself as tremendously accessible work, whose focus lies well beyond the tunnel vision of studio-bound antics or sophisticated navel-gazing. Or, again in Axel’s own words, “CUPID’S HEAD is about visions of the future, tiny actions and their consequences, about sentimentality and most certainly... about life.“

Nightmare Ending is the first proper Eluvium album released since 2010's Similes, the unexpectedly vocal-heavy ambient-pop record that simultaneously delighted and confounded longtime fans. But the Nightmare Ending story actually began years earlier, as it was intended to be the follow-up to the watershed album, Copia. Conceived as a way of helping loosen his self-imposed ideals of perfection, Cooper labeled each Nightmare Ending track as either a "dream," or an "imperfection" – a way of differentiating the philosophical concept of "dream vs. reality," couched in the more tangible technical distinctions of "flawless vs. flawed." With each progressive listen those differences naturally challenged themselves, and without relying on the standardized perfection protocol, Cooper became increasingly reluctant to release any of it. He shelved it, and pursued Similes instead. But Nightmare Ending wouldn't go away; it lingered in the back of his mind, the abandoned fruits of a truly worthwhile and noble journey towards a less creatively constraining mindset. Cooper returned to it with renewed vigor, writing and recording in a blur of time that spanned several years. The result is a body of work that encompasses everything remarkable about past Eluvium albums, executed more powerfully and poignant than ever before.

When Eminem put out the sequel to *The Marshall Mathers LP* in late 2013, he joined a small handful of rappers—including JAY-Z, Q-Tip, and the late MF DOOM—who’d managed to still sound relevant after hitting 40. Age hadn’t matured him—at least not so much that he backed off the violence, misogyny, and homophobia that made him a lightning rod 15 years earlier. But on *The Marshall Mathers LP 2*, there was a sense of awareness about his place in the culture that could be interpreted as maturity. He wasn’t a dark, twisted rapper; he was the dark, twisted rap *guy*: That was his role. So while the album’s shout-outs to Phife Dawg (“Legacy”)—as well as the old-school feel of tracks like “Berzerk” and “Survival”—could be described as nostalgia, they’re also Eminem’s way of saying that, no matter how good he is, he knows he’s just a piece in a much bigger cultural picture. By the time *The Marshall Mathers LP 2* arrived, the tabloids and headlines that once followed Eminem were mostly gone. It was just him, his notebook, his memories, and a love for the music that made him. “They said I rap like a robot, so call me Rap-bot,” he proclaims at the top of “Rap God,” before offering five and a half of the most technically demanding minutes of his career. That’s the feat, but that’s also the joke—watch him go. Same, in a way, for something like “Legacy,” which listeners might realize squeezes five minutes of rhymes out of the same few syllables. In an interview with Eminem, conducted a few years after *The Marshall Mathers LP 2*‘s release, a *New York* magazine writer asked the rapper what he liked to do for fun. “Aside from writing? Mostly I love writing,” he said. “Yeah, writing is something I really enjoy.” It’s hard to tell whether or not he’s kidding, but on *LP 2*, the picture still comes through clear: Here’s a guy so consumed by rap that the rest of the world basically doesn’t exist.

The fourth long-player by these drone-rock masters continues where *West* left off, treading a slightly sunnier path where the bramble and gloom are cleared away as the labyrinthian rhythms carve themselves even deeper in the listener’s psyche. *Back to Land* opens with the utterly enticing—or should we say entrapping—title track: there’s no leaving once you’ve gotten to the two-minute mark. The churning, blood-warming organ is turned up in the mix, and throughout the record, adding a visceral kind of time-travel vibe to the party. There’s a Doorsy sensuousness to “These Shadows” and a pedal-to-the-floor, Modern Lovers spirit on the jet-propelled “Ghouls”; Ripley Johnson’s pining on “Everybody Knows” is heartbreaking, though he could be singing about the Flat Earth Society or the surety of paying taxes. Burning through the Shjips’ foggy cocoon to decipher lyrics is about as easy as *not* tapping your foot to their relentless and irresistibly hypnotic metronomic motion. By land or by sea, the Shjips deliver the goods.

Wooden Shjips’ rise to prominence from the psychedelic underground to the rock and roll overground has been a steady sojourn. With each consecutive release, the band has found new ways of transforming heady psychedelic rock into minimalist masterpieces, bridging the gap between the woozy freeness of Les Rallizes Denudes and Crazy Horse and the tightly wound simplicity of Suicide and the Velvet Underground. Back To Land, the quartet’s follow-up to West, is the first Wooden Shjips record to be conceived outside of San Francisco. Ripley Johnson and Omar Ahsanuddin moved to Oregon, where the lush climates became a major influence on the songwriting. The band’s scope expanded to include more earthy, grounded tones, such as the acoustic guitar, without abandoning their modernist psych core. There is an increased brightness to many of the songs on Back To Land, an easiness with which the band has flirted with in the past but never fully realized until now. The nervy urgency of West has evolved into an assured confidence, from the alliterative, interlocking guitar and organ groove of “Ruins” to the languidly compelling guitar solos of “Servants.” The addition of the acoustic guitar to the band’s textural palate is coupled here with some of the most melodically direct songs the band has written. Still, there are still plenty of signature Shjips songs, with distorted riffs, modal keys, and a steady, crisp drum sound unfolding intensely while the elongated melodic guitar lines drift in and out of the foreground. On Back to Land this energy is captured in clear detail, designed as an immersive experience rather than a passive blasting. Back To Land was laid to tape at Jackpot Recording Studios in Portland by Kendra Lynn and mixed by Larry Crane. It was recorded over an 11-day session, resulting in some of the most detailed and spacious recordings of their career. Back To Land is a breakthrough record for the Wooden Shjips: nuanced, varied and utterly addictive. The band will be touring extensively in the US and Europe November through February.

Debut album on Fortuna POP! Available digitally in all those 'digital stores' you get. Also available direct from Fortuna POP! at www.fortunapop.com (or come get it at one of our shows!)

The fourth full-length by Frightened Rabbit is a powerhouse of shambolic style. Boasting a bright, well-balanced, and textured sound, it staggers from quiet moments to catchy indie rock to brief vignettes bookended by full-bodied songs with big choruses. Despite the self-deprecating title, the lyrics are keen and expressive and full of confessions cloaked in imagery, a specialty of singer Scott Hutchinson. Dark moods and foul deeds abound, yet somehow never drag the songs down into a mire of maudlin expression. Instead, we get catharsis, escape, and honest assessments of emotional upheaval delivered in a honeyed Scottish accent. The band’s rich sound includes layers of horns, strings, piano, and organ balanced by booming drums and brittle guitar. Throughout the album, Hutchison freely points out his own faults, both in his character and his art—but listeners may have a hard time finding the latter among these brilliant gems.

A seductively erotic charge courses through Secondhand Rapture, the debut album of New York twosome MS MR. Drawing upon classic pop, retro soul and trip-hop elements, the duo crafts a sound that’s meticulously constructed without concealing the volatile emotions coursing beneath its surfaces. Singer Lizzy Plapinger combines Adele’s diva authority with Florence Welch’s artful flair as she tears into love’s temptations and treacheries. The wounded desire that fuels her performances in “Hurricane,” “Think of You,” “No Trace” and similar tracks are lent dramatic heft by producer Max Hershenow’s atmospheric use of cavernous vocal echo and rumbling tympani drums. MS MR stretch out further with clap-along island grooves (“Salty Sweet”), cool lounge jazz (“Dark Doo Wop”) and gliding, gothic-tinged balladry (“Ash Tree Lane”). The slow jam soulfulness of “Fantasy” finds the duo simultaneously mellow and menacing. For all the lyric venom and sonic lushness found here, there’s a vulnerability to the music’s core that pours forth in revelatory moments like the smoldering album closer “This Isn’t Control.”

On her first English-language project (and third album overall), Olof Arnalds combines maidenly vocal purity with a finely wrought melodic sense that makes her idiosyncrasies easy to enjoy. The Icelandic singer/songwriter crafts exquisite musical miniatures that hint of mystical reveries beyond their guileless lyricism. *Sudden Elevation* keeps a tight spotlight on Arnalds’ crystalline warble, mostly accompanied by acoustic guitar with occasional electric filigree and subtle string parts. Tunes like “Treat Her Kindly” and the title number invite comparisons to early Joni Mitchell; “Bright & Still” has the old-fashioned tunefulness of vintage Paul McCartney. With music that\'s undeniably twee at times, Arnalds transcends her childlike qualities with empathy and quiet wisdom. She moves between the medieval exaltation of “Return Again,” the church-pageant whimsy of “All a Little Grim,” and the tropical lilt of “Numbers and Names” with an enraptured air, punctuated by a wry smile now and then. “Call It What You Want” adds a touch of spacy folk psychedelia. Arnalds comes across as dreamy, yet not remote; she revels in her quirks without surrendering to them.

With its fourth studio album, The Boxer Rebellion pushes the boundaries of sublime guitar-driven alt-rock, brightening the album’s textures with radiant synth lines, a future-primitive bash of ’80s backbeats, and unexpected melodies. On “Take Me Back,” singer Nathan Nicholson confidently switches between his subdued croon and a soaring falsetto, and he gives spirited, emotional performances on forceful singles like “Diamonds” and the strident piano-based rocker “Keep Moving.”

While Waxahatchee’s debut, *American Weekend*, is often described as “haunting” (for good reason), the artist’s sophomore release exudes a more pointed, aggressive sound. Waxahatchee is Katie Crutchfield, a singer/songwriter and Alabama native doing what should be impossible by now: giving new life to a well-worn musical genre. On *Cerulean Salt*, she swings from stabbing, grimy guitars on the first two tracks to a relaxed and almost sweet-seeming saunter featuring tambourines and acoustic guitar (“Lips and Limbs“). Then a thudding, spare bass and hollow snare paint a bleak picture on “Brother Bryan.” That song opens with the line “I said to you on the night we met, ‘I am not well,’” which tells you what to expect lyrically on this beguiling work. Crutchfield’s an honest, straightforward artist who emits the smart pop-flavored confidence of Liz Phair, the mystery of Cat Power, and the melodic playfulness of Pavement, though Waxahatchee’s sound is considerably simpler. Whether she’s slamming her electric guitar or strumming an acoustic, the emotional nakedness of *Cerulean Salt* is a beautiful thing.

On her second full-length record as Waxahatchee, former P.S. Eliot singer Katie Crutchfield’s compelling hyper-personal poetry is continuously crushing. Cerulean Salt follows last January’s American Weekend -- a collection of minimal acoustic-guitar pop written and recorded in a week at her family’s Birmingham home. On this new record, Crutchfield’s songs continue to be marked by her sharp, hooky songwriting; her striking voice and lyrics that simultaneously seem hyper-personal yet relentlessly relatable, teetering between endearingly nostaglic and depressingly dark. But whereas before the thematic focus of her songcraft was on break ups and passive-aggressive crushing, this record reflects on her family and Alabama upbringing. And whereas American Weekend was mostly just Crutchfield and her guitar, Cerulean Salt is occasionally amped up, with a full band and higher-fi production. At times, Cerulean Salt creeps closer to the sound of PS Eliot: moody, 90s-inspired rock backed by Keith Spencer and Swearin’ guitarist Kyle Gilbride on drums and bass. The full band means fleshed-out fuzzy lead guitars on “Coast to Coast”, its poppy hook almost masking its dark lyrics. Big distorted guitars and deep steady drums mark songs like “Misery over Dispute” and “Waiting”. There’s plenty of American Weekend‘s instrospection and minimalism to be found, though. “Blue Pt. II” is stripped down, Crutchfield and her sister Alison (of Swearin’) singing in harmony with deadpan vox. She’s still an open booking, musing on self-doubt versus self-reliance, transience versus permanence. “Peace and Quiet” ebbs and flows from moody, minimal verses to a sing-song chorus. “Swan Dive” tackles nostalgia, transience, indifference, regret — over the a minimal strum of an electric-guitar, the picking at a chirpy riff and the double-time tapping of a muted drum. The album closes with a haunting acoustic-guitar reflection on “You’re Damaged,” possibly the best Waxahatchee song to date.

Melt Yourself Down is the sound of Cairo ‘57, Cologne ‘72, New York ‘78, London 2013. North and south and east and west. Horns blowing, drums vibrating, a suffocating fever dream. Primal. Vital. Fierce funk and punk and detonated jazz. Rhythms to rearrange the DNA. Five senses being ripped by six souls across seven continents on eight songs. Their message: Melt Yourself Down and turn yourself up. Get out of it and get into it. Download 'Fix My Life' and 'We Are Enough' for free (in exchange for an email address) by clicking on the individual tracks. More information: www.theleaflabel.com/en/releases/view/201/Melt%20Yourself%20Down/Melt%20Yourself%20Down/BAY%2085CD

Laura Marling’s questing nature reaches its zenith on album four, the 16-song epic *Once I Was an Eagle*. It kicks off with a hypnotic four-track suite of songs tied together by a raga-like drone and hand percussion, sucking the listener into her existential headspace. Further in, there’s classical guitar (“Little Love Caster”), tender devotionals (“Love Be Brave”), and Dylan evocations (“It ain’t me, babe,” she affirms on “Master Hunter”), all stirred by her steely interrogations.

For his debut release on the reputed Warp Records imprint, Daniel Lopatin (a.k.a. Oneohtrix Point Never) draws somewhat on the compositional elements from his previous LP, *Replica*, but pushes them seamlessly to their breaking points—each track is a short film\'s worth of ideas and range. Referencing any number of touchstones from \'90s Internet culture to the subtle ambient works of Aphex Twin, to *Oxygene*-like swells of cinematic synths, the listener is left with almost zero ability to predict where a track will lead. Yet there\'s never the sense of being taken unexpectedly—Oneohtrix turns sound on its head to bring you to the place you\'re meant to go, which is sometimes many places at once.

{Awayland} is the title of Villagers’ new album, released on 9th April 2013. The follow up to the Mercury-nominated and Ivor Novello Award winning debut, Becoming a Jackal, was written by Villagers’ Conor O’Brien and was produced and mixed in Ireland by Conor with bandmate Tommy McLaughlin. Conor had the following to say about the album: ‘{Awayland} is a diverse album... It takes you on a trip through a musical landscape, as a tribute to your sense of wonder. It travels through space and time and leaves you back for dinner. It might take a few gobbles. Maybe try it on headphones first, without interruption. I hope you enjoy.’

*Dream River* is Bill Callahan’s 16th (or so) release, including those he recorded as Smog. His music is mysterious and intense. Even after 25 years, it remains filled with surprises. Where in the past Callahan has thrived on repetition, here nothing is static. *Dream River* is sublime in its subtlety; each word and pause feels essential. The instruments are in sync with Callahan’s drowsy and understated baritone, and the arrangements fully support the freeform lyrics and open song structures. The music is lush and the backing band inspired, particularly the remarkable guitar work of Matt Kinsey. His guitar tones play off Callahan’s vocals beautifully as keyboards, flute, congas, and percussion add texture and motion on standouts like “Javelin Unlanding” and “Spring.” Another highlight is the opening “The Sing,” a Callahan classic featuring pedal steel, electric guitar, country fiddle, and a hint of mariachi rhythm. *Dream River* is an affecting album that ranks among Callahan’s best work.

Ol' man Eagle is back, floatin' Apocalyptically on a Whaleheart down the Dream River. Eight gentle percolations fire the pressure-cooker of life, dialing us into the Callahanian mind- and soul-set. Deep like aqua, soulful like man and animal alike.

Crisp drums, juicy chords, irresistible hooks—Disclosure’s debut album couldn\'t have sounded fresher. Brothers Guy and Howard Lawrence were just kids when their favorite styles were last in vogue, and they bring the right balance of innocence and insouciance to swinging drums and plunging organ basslines, while vocalists like Sam Smith and AlunaGeorge lend a soulful shine to the impeccably polished productions.

Drenge are two brothers from a small town in England; they started making music together in high school. Eoin Loveless’ grungy, fuzzy guitars roil and shudder with a Black Sabbath/Nirvana kind of intensity, and drummer Rory’s foundations are so solid you might think you hear a bassline in the mix. *Drenge* opens with “People in Love Make Me Feel Yuck”; Eoin’s sardonic delivery cuts through the thick guitar buzz with lines like “We have no redeeming features/Just a desperate streak,” riding atop a lazy, slightly boogie-rock–infused rhythm before the title is chanted at song’s end with a kind of weary recognition. Their youthful dissing of everyday life (“Dogmeat”) and their more solemn observances of same (“Backwaters”), their successful stab at a dirge-ballad (“Let’s Pretend”) and hilarious riposte of Willie Dixon’s classic “I Just Wanna Make Love to You” (“I Don’t Wanna…”) all show that the brothers Loveless have clearly done some rock ’n’ roll homework. Then they shredded it through their teenaged-id filters with the throttle wide open. There\'s excellent production here, especially on the refreshingly crisp and upfront vocals.

In 2006, the first album by this British electronic producer found him exploring the outer reaches of trance, glitch, and minimal techno. Seven years later, having busied himself elsewhere in between, Holden followed up with an ecstatic explosion of sounds and styles on *The Inheritors*. The electronic merry-go-round that Holden presides over is based around thick, visceral analog synth tones that alternately throb, rattle, and wheeze as the situation demands, but they\'re framed in a multitude of mind-melting ways. On \"The Caterpillar\'s Invention,\" avant-jazz sax frenzy collides with a tribal groove and a prog-flavored accumulation of electronics. \"Sky Burial\" pits electro-acoustic edginess against old-school Harry Partch–style DIY clang-and-bang sound sculpture. Along the way, \'70s Berlin–style cosmic synthscapes dart around funhouse-mirror reflections of everything from ambient music and post-rock to videogame soundtracks—making for a sometimes disorienting but consistently engrossing journey.