It is a disorienting experience to listen deeply to this music. These lengthy pieces sound densely structured and composed with the precision of a Glen Gould tape edit, but with a seat-of-yr-pants improv feel which brings the threat of collapse and chaos. In that sense it echoes krautrock pioneers going crazy with tape and razor blades decades ago, with a similarly kosmische expansiveness, but filtered through a wealth of avant knowledge and praxis. In short, neither salon nor sweat-pit, though informed by both.

“Bring Us Some Honest Food” is all noir and shadow. The slammed piano chords of Portions Of Honesty are repeated maddeningly, feeling like the shadow of Nosferatu creeping up the stairs. The muted trumpet of Dishonest Dessert accrues portentousness over 20 minutes, echoing the ever more insistent piano. Throughout the album sounds drift in and out, from foreground to background, cut off, backwards. Vocals are muffled, distorted, recognisable sounds redacted. The listener’s ears skitter across the stereo envelope like an extra-wired sentry on guard duty.