One would think the word ‘love’ in a track title in this day and age would suggest the same kind of vapidity associated with empty-headed pop, but Krystian Shek has managed to deconstruct the word and its meanings in a manner so original the ear is fairly floored. On this utterly spellbinding new recording, Shek’s outpouring of love is reflected in the immersive harmolodics and quietly respirating instances that simmer like liquid tears in a Batty rain.
The opening fifteen-minute title track establishes a mood that surely feels lustrous, deep, and resonant: synths that sear the night sky burn bright then vanish like disintegrating meteorites, the pensive (e)motion of sequencers drawing breath, unidentifiable electronic filigree cutting across the entire soundstage in an enormous etch-a-sketch of digital iconography. “Cinta Gara” gradually unfolds to glimpse the sequencers in full flight, riding the timewinds, capturing the moondawn as it irises overhead, the spectator drifting aimlessly through pulsing modular hushes and tangerine dreams. “Ionized” feels like a callback to the titular work’s expansive cinematic remit, its faux-piano notations nearly getting lost amongst the machine buzz flotsam and richly atmospheric jetsam. Shek never fails to disappoint, and like everything else he’s committed to shiny plastic object, this one is just as necessary.