The characteristic nonappearance of technical data on how the music was generated, the mystifying photographs adorning the covers (in this occasion, the wheels of a trash container) and the advantageous effects that the sounds produce on our whole being are but three of the reasons for which Koji Asano’s records are always kindly greeted on my desk. The 67 minutes of Polar Parliament (how’s that for a title?) are divided into two extensive tracks, both distinguished by a faultless stability encircling the solidity of the sources – most probably echoes from some kind of industrial route, maybe related to the above mentioned picture – and a magnetic end product. The first part consists, in essence, of a long-drawn-out rhythmic pulse that gives the idea of a living entity’s steady heartbeat filtered by a computerized treatment; a perpetual, quick-paced, brain-cuddling “whop, whop, whop” barely disturbed by indistinct “presences” of unobtrusive noises. The second subdivision was mostly assembled via location recordings of equipment at work; however Asano is a master in highlighting musical hints in bitter manifestations, thus attributing captivating “warmer” hues to what would otherwise amount to a mere gathering of automatic activities. All in all, the 46th release by the eclectic Japanese is another case in point for intelligent sonic art that does not ask for enforced nomenclature.