The music envisaged by The Remote Viewers produces a unique aesthetical specimen from the unimaginable transparency of shrewdly arranged reed clusters, the measured attitude of musicians who in every moment know exactly where they’re going, and the incessant will to coalesce stylistic factors and instrumental ingredients. Crimeways – dating from 2013 – constitutes a fine instance of “mathematically zen” nimbleness by the ensemble, full as it is of ideas deployed with acumen and a tiny bit of darkish humor. In wide observation rooms, composite yet unblurred counterpoints combine jazz scents, drum ‘n’ bass, modern minimalism and quirky sketches. Inside, one can physically perceive the quivering generated by adjacent tones, occasionally escorted by bizarre spurts of moderate electronics (as in “Woken By Water” and “Mass Isolation”). Most of all, the expert listener is subjected to a cycle of much needed aural restoration thanks to compositional structures eschewing the obvious while retaining identifiable characteristics. In apparent impassibility, Petts, Northover and friends invite us to another of their peculiarly enigmatic dances; there’s nothing wrong in accepting with enthusiasm.