The new instalment of the long-awaited archival material recorded by Heemann and O’Rourke in the early nineties consists of an untitled intermix of circa 50 minutes. It slowly swims under the kind of abyssal sentience elicited by records, books and films so gripping that one literally doesn’t realize about temporal transitions while enjoying them. Originating from almost oppressive muteness, an initial subdivision culminating with synthetic perturbations akin to a mass of consuming exhalations gives the idea of some sort of internal push, as if the mind was waiting to be sterilized and sandblasted at the same time. The splendidly reminiscent attributes emblematic of both artists’ aesthetic sense are immediately highlighted; their versatility in enkindling different emotions in the listener and modifying their incontestable influences is implicit yet manifest. Repetitive keyboard patterns underlie a blurred conglomerate of looped ethnic percussion, then room is given to a portion in which a group of hammering men at work brings forth a joint pounding hymn to urban clangour amidst far-off engines and other resident ghosts. The second half – including the endmost part – presents dim traces of Mirror, due to the use of Brobdingnagian reverberations amplifying the core essence of sounds derived by bowed metals and strings in colligation with additional droning sources, typically left inexplicable by the instigators. Without wasting further words and trespass the limits of ballyhoo, let me tell you that Plastic Palace People Vol. 2 is the worthy next to an awesome first chapter, and just as indispensable. Obviously we’re ready to heartily greet more goodies from these gentlemen’s taped archives.