A Czech crackle party with plenty of hypnotic repetition. Recorded near to that country’s border with Poland, this album is a collection of one-way streets, disembodied fragments of rhythm and melody that seem to have drifted together by accident rather than design. It’s not murder on the dance floor by any means, instead a kind of amniotic hymn for shutting out the world and curling up on the floor, on the sofa, under the duvet.
In Solaris a wobbly piano loop attempts to penetrate the clouds of torpor, summoning memories of nights out under the stars somewhere warm, but it’s too cold here, too autumnal to bring any kind of heat to these old bones. Overture for the Rains dispenses with any melodic elements altogether, just a hissing skeleton of a song, a chill in your joints.
In fact the album seems to be a soundtrack not just to a day in bed but a journey back in time, back into the recesses of memory. Miriam Ingram’s disembodied sing-song on Dead Swan seems precision-tooled for a Proustian reverie, although when allied with the tune’s unsettlingly naive music box melody it seems to augur something a whole lot more sinister on the psychic horizon.
The final track, Positive Einstellung, drops us bang in the middle of some vortex of the unconscious, the lurid, swirling instrumentation and deadpan vocal cut ups, an Ipcress File nightmare of post-psychedelic weirdness. What horrors are hiding beneath the surface?
Yet as the piece abruptly comes to an end at just under eight minutes, we’ve forgotten almost everything, like dreamers awaking from a nightmare. Back on the shores of the mundane, we scratch our heads and wander off into the day, a lingering sense of unease the only indication of what has just taken place.