It's a tricky subject to tackle is the score. Synthetic, cinematic music, and its technical makeup has come a long way since those revolutionary, halcyon days of Tangerine Dream, Vangelis, or even John Carpenter-led scores - the '70s and '80s, basically, when ears were opened up to the possibilities of what synthesisers could do for the moving image. What a time it must have been for the film fan, though. Can you imagine, sitting in a cinema, suddenly being washed over by gargantuan waves of spectral electronic sounds? Forcefully chocking and twisting your attention into how you should interpret a particular scene in a completely alien manner? Detractors might argue that it's nothing that orchestral scores hadn't been doing for years, but forgoing the obvious Bladerunner assertions, the appreciation of the synthesised score is something of a moveable feast depending on the consumer's palate, and there is a bounty to be found with the most basic of research.

It's interesting too that this consumption is far more common now, but we're currently in the midst of a saturated field with regard to how accessible this technology is, and it isn't always used to great effect as a result - that dog-shit of a movie We Are Your Friends with its dog-shit of a soundtrack. What was once a startling cinematic phenomenon, and for all intents and purposes out of our reach is now, in various guises, the very set of components that are cheap enough, mass-produced and reliable enough to allow everyone and their technologically savvy gran to create nearly any sound imaginable. Luckily for us, the listeners, audience members, and the team behind The Last Panthers series, this technology is at the hands of a seasoned pro.

Chris Clark, one of Warp Records' wonder boys, has made a long and fruitful career out of experimenting with electronic music. Comparisons to Aphex Twin are obvious, if not a little glib considering the two are masterful at the controls of their machines, but Clark has always struck a chord that reverberates in a quieter, more accessible manner. And, while it's true that he has been known to dabble in breakneck, gauzy rhythms and angular, cutting synth odysseys over the years, here we find the Berlin-based producer/composer settling down - building tension and deep throbs of emotion over the course of 48 minutes - to quite perfectly reflect a television series shrouded in misery, mystery, and the darkest of mirths. Watch the show, open your ears and you'll realise just how calculated and effective Clark has been in this new venture.

That being said, removing the score from its visual counterpart is easier than you'd think it should be, and again, it's down to how well Clark can construct ambience and tone - 'Back to Belgrade', 'Strangled to Death in a Public Toilet', or 'Actual Jewels' contain soaring atmospherics and ratcheted, syncopated rhythms that don't get lost in the mix, despite their place as background flair to the foreground's pulsing, brooding timbres. 'Diamonds Aren't Forever' and 'Diamonds Aren't Forever II' make for a fascinating, halfway bookending through the record - cerebral, digital lines effervesce into soft, piano-laden refrains that focus on mood. It's not style over substance, the substance itself is so highly stylised that Clark's production haunts the mind's eye, conjuring visions of bleak landscapes and singular entities, adrift in thick mists and confirming that you don't necessarily need to watch The Last Panthers to know that something amiss is unfolding.

There are glorious moments of reflection to be found throughout The Last Panthers too. Circuitous, sweeping pad interludes that, more often than not, come in the form of unusual and unsettling chord progressions to jolt the beauty that's frequently on offer. 'Cryogenic' and 'Brother Killer' do this to great effect, while 'Open Foe' and 'Omni Vignette' dispel these motifs just as quickly, showcasing similar mechanics, but doing so to elevate mood rather than quash the soul. This in itself will give you an idea as to how skilled a composer Chris Clark actually is - arranging an album that crescendos and flatlines in all the right places, at all the right times to completely fuck with the listener's sense of orientation.

The hard sell here is crystal-clear. This is a fairly niche recording, and I'd be curious to see the sales figures, but it's truly a thing of beauty - in its execution, its textures, and the way it melds varying shades of atmosphere into an album that's steeped with violence and retribution. The fact that it's so intrinsically linked with Warp should help it reach the audience it deserves too, and it's safe to say that Chris Clark has added another element to his already impressive back-catalogue, but it's difficult to gauge whether or not it will encourage repeated listening. Its weight is such that it can at times be a burden, but one that hopefully won't be too difficult for the listener to bear.