This month I’m going to focus on my three favourite recent releases. And boy-howdy-got-milk are they really quite nice.

Coincidentally, as a kind of nota bene, I should point out they soundtracked an epic eight-hour rail journey between Barrow-In-Furness and Bournemouth really well. The dusky coastal sandflats morphing into rolling middle England hills, with the occasional low-lamp-lit commuter town cropping up, modulated the effect of each record with really interesting (and in some cases moving) results. Make of that what you will.

First up is the debut S/T release from The Eye of Time. It’s the solo post-industrial moniker of Marc Euvrie, a veteran of the French DIY hardcore scene. Euvrie is an angry man. An angry man is Euvrie. Over the course of two disks and three parts he manages to channel this withering nihilism into some of the most brutal clanging percussion, chainsaw-yelp vocals and dissonant sound forges that side of la Manche. Certainly, there are moments where looped piano refrains lock in so tightly with the motorik rhythms and unsettled washes of noise that you know the man, as an artist, has found a creative zenith. However, there are also troughs the mapped drums are gnat-tinny, and the instrumentation has a faint whiff of ‘hmmm, I’ll bung this in here for a few minutes…’ But, It’s nearly two hours long, y’know?

The use of rather disparate influences assimilated into his artistic leitmotif could have killed ‘The Eye of Time’ – not many people can mash together earthy ambient drones that morph into sheet-metal industrial techno by way of dead end power electronics. But somehow, it just about manages to be done. The passage I felt that really hit an angsty sense of ascension came late, in ‘000007091981151723031994’ (I know…) It was eerily reminiscent of Content Nullity’s ‘With these two bare hands…’ with that creeping ambience finally tearing the mind out of its tormented creator, leading to a vocal explosion of complete. Raw. Anguish. Parfait.

Then we come to Leeds trio A-Sun Amissa. Another debut, from ex-members of Glissando, Desperate in Her Heavy Sleep combines experimental neo-classical tendencies with immersive, blissful drone.

The five tracks on Desperate in Her Heavy Sleep explore subtle variations on a similar theme. The string passages avoid the saccharine by often playing at odds with the music, and the occasionally prominent guitar adds texture like on ‘Dislocated Harmony: Into Small Cold Eyes / Several Miles Above’ – something solid and corporeal, like a body in the mist. When the music swells and morphs into something larger and more urgent, it never feels orchestrated (boom tsh), it just feels right – it needs to be happening, it is happening and now my brain is trickling out my ears and I can’t move because I’m in a codependent relationship with sweet, sweet catatonia.

On listening to the album’s more moody passages, you can imagine that it is of a certain space. It’s hard not to think of the chip-wrapper strewn streets of a northern city, the sky as grey as the architecture, and the dead march oppression evoked by the strings in ‘A Hungover Whisper: Thin Light Failure / Decay’ Not to say there isn’t beauty to be found here; the chaotic spree of ‘Speechless Turns: Hung Up/Rejoice Me More Than Mine’ is almost joyful, with shrieks erupting from the bright, peppy sounds.

The final album we’re getting ear-deep into this month is Rolling Bomber, another debut, this time from feted avant-garde drummer Erland Dahlen. Dahlen has played on over 130 releases since the mid nineties (cool), for acts such as Mike Patton (cooler), Hanne Hukkelberg (way cool) and Serena Maneesh (Über-cool). ‘Rolling Bomber’ is named after the kit he uses on the record, which dates back to World War II (so fucking cool I just lost my shit).

Rolling Bomber is a heavily percussive affair (duh…), which really does showcase quite how talented a drummer Dahlen is. His rhythms are novel, fresh and interesting, often propulsive and even when sparse – compelling. But, treasonous as it may be to say this, the most interesting aspects of this album lie not in his drumming, but in the chiming, buzzing and bowed accompaniments to said drumming.

It takes someone with a special affinity for sound to make such hyper-electronic noisy glitches sound quite as organic as Dahlen does, and doubly earthy when matched with what I think is a musical saw (on opener ‘Flower Power’) and the plaintive sine-wave buzzes on ‘Dragon’.

Over the course of these seven tracks Dahlen shows just how broad in scope music can be with percussion at its core, and by embellishing it with very complimentary textures and sounds, just how fascinating (not mutually exclusive from ‘enjoyable’) it can be. It also makes you realize exactly what more mainstream ‘experimental’ artists are trying to achieve, if only they could shake their perverse love for U2 (*cough*, Radiohead…. *cough).

Next month I’m going to sit down with one of my favourite experimental producers and he’s going to talk at me about his favourite records. I hope you’re as excited as I am.