Eschewing the conventional structure of an LP, Francis Plagne & crys cole's Two Words, is exactly what the title suggests— it’s a two-part, phantasmal composition held together by lucid textures and hissing ambiance.

Originally composed as a performance piece, the duo alongside Australian drummer-producer Joe Talia went back into the studio to rerecord. Along with the cryptic infusion of live mic’ing, whistling and organ meld together to radiate a highly improvised demeanor and a serene sense of space.

Eerily equivalent to the sound of crashing, collapsing waves and the auditory sensation of cars speeding across a rainy freeway, this duo’s mystical electronic entanglements crackle and diffuse across 33 minutes. Some might find the completely instrumental Side A a bit monotonous and pointless at first, but the apparent aimlessness does, in fact, have a purpose—to position listeners into a spellbound and apprehended state until Side B commences.

As the output of high/low frequencies bob and weave with one another and entrancing blips and creaks percolate their way through a voidless realm of synthesized white noise, listeners are capsized by the very moment Plagne’s soothing spoken word vocals arrive.

At the 19-minute mark, this interruption of complete drone proves to be a tender surprise—it’s the sonic equivalent to rationalizing your way through the confusion associated with waking up from a deep sleep in the middle of late afternoon.

While Side A causes listeners to meander into a dewy, astral haze, Plagne’s words on Side B ground listeners back to reality—not in an abrupt way, but with a posture that is both pacifying and delicate. Nevertheless, Plagne pervades the absorbing mistiness of Two Words with a succession of semi-related couplets derived from a text by Berlin-based poet Marty Hiatt, “lens flare/ signal flare/ raw nerve/ anxiety suit…” It’s difficult to determine the significance of these abstracted thoughts, yet it's clear they operate perfectly within a surreal plain of sound.

Though this project is incredibly unique, there’s nothing about this album that’s entirely futuristic, It’s lo-fi pastiche paired with Plagne’s inspirited recitation recalls the off-the-wall, home-grown sound and lyrical delivery of Daniel Johnston, while it’s field recording flair—creaks, cracks andall—will remind many of the late and great Arthur Russell. All this to say, there’s a constantly evolving nature about Two Words that goes unnoticed with the first couple of spins.

Defying easy description, Plagne and cole’s debut endeavor is gorgeous and ever-flowing with intricacies that completely envelope. Two Words is an achievement in the structuring/restructuring of sound and the perplexing texturing of tones, but it is above all, a pleasant outcome of two contrasting minds attempting to bridge the gap between improvisation and intentionality.