By thinking about the adverb “there” while subjected to the compelling acoustic morphologies depicted by this inestimable disc, there is a good chance of stopping in your tracks in a nearly contemplative state. And yet, these three segments contain sounds that stimulate the perception of the innermost vital motions within a stifled grief. Quite a difference from the superficial luminescence and fake concentration of those who literally cut their own existential problems from the cloth of a comfortable life.

I’m not sure if the music was originally created for installation purposes. However, the messages conveyed inside a silent room are probably more incisive. The undetailed sonorities – halfway through processed electric guitar and indeterminate (analogue?) electronics – range from abyssal resonant bumps to acute shortwave-like stabs, with everything else – mantric or less – gradually unfolding in between. In some instances, the results are totally awesome: the finale, for example, is one of the most imposing “slowly sloping drone” pieces ever heard by this reviewer. Something recalling a Gregorian chorale stuck on a baritone glissando echoing from the bowels of a turbine. Absolutely fantastic, with the addition of a striking symbolism when a lone high-pitched cry lingers on at the very end, signaling the conclusion of our interlude outside the reality.

Remember Genesis’ song “Cuckoo Cocoon” from The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway? The first lines say “Wrapped up in some powdered wool I guess I’m losing touch / Don’t tell me this is dying, ‘cause I ain’t changed that much”. Replace the “powdered wool” with Archetti’s merciless frequencies, and it all fits. In case you are still untrustful, perhaps the issuing of a rare “masterpiece” tag will elicit the right action: that of going to get a copy of this item as fast as the Roadrunner.

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