TENGGER are in awe of vastness. In Mongolian, their moniker translates as ‘unlimited expanse of sky’, in Hungarian, ‘huge sea’. In reality, their name change (the duo formerly went by, simply, 10) was to honor the birth of their son - the growth of their family - but even this still finds the Korean krautrock-leaning outfit decidedly intrigued by expanse.

Something of a ever-traveling family unit, the married duo exist entirely consumed in a world of their creation. itta handles vocal duties, as well as the harmonium, while Marqido tackles the synth. Even their young son, RAAI, is a common presence on stage. In short, the gently echoing psychedelic music of TENGGER is truly its creators entire existence.

It shows in the music. Their latest album, Spiritual 2, is subtle, yet lush, and intricately lovingly balanced plunge into a dense sea of sound. The title is no mistake: more than your typical Krautrock-influenced act, TENGGER are deeply interested in how their music speaks to the soul, hoping to give their listeners a spiritual experience while listening to their work.

On ‘See’, for example, itta’s echoing, wordless calls feel akin to some ancient practice, half-remembered, and re-imagined in a way that only its singer understands, while still speaking to all on an innate, inner level.

The grooves, meanwhile, are much as you’d expect from a strong Krautrock outing, albeit whittled down from, say, the grand ambition of Can’s boldest work. TENGGER aren’t called to challenge the listener with bizarre ideas. Instead, they prefer to offer a warming coat of sound, lulling the listener through meandering, and at times near formless, grooves. ‘Middle’ is essentially a charming loop, and stronger for it, with itto’s vocals dancing nimbly on and out of its muted urgency.

‘Kyrie’, meanwhile, engages with more overtly Asian sounds, with beautiful strings engaging with the band’s ever-present synths. It’s also one of the most patient songs the band has yet recorded, and finds them at their absolute best. As it eases towards some unknowable summit, it completely entrances. That’s it’s named for Popul Vuh is doubly telling, as it pays tribute to both a band that TENGGER no doubt adore, as well as one of their singers, Djong Yun, perhaps the first Korean artist to fully engage with, and impact, Krautrock.

The energy picks back up quickly with the playful ‘Ajari’, but TENGGER are at their best daring to near stillness. With their deepest aspirations lying in the spiritual and indecipherable, it makes great sense that they’re most engaged when creating less structured rhythms. It’s enough to make one hope they’ll take on, perhaps, a more ambient-leaning project, and certainly that they’ll give in to their more ambiguous, searching impulses. While we await that day, Spiritual 2 serves as a tantalizing, enjoyable glimpse into just what this duo might become.