The second full-length release by Gyratory System sees trumpet virtuoso, producer and all-round charmer Andrew Blick and collaborators honing their customised blend of formulaic musical composition and improvised performance, 'The Process', into a fine art.

A veritable veteran of the indie circuit, having loaned his brass skills to a slew of bands over the last 15 years or so (most recently the sorely-missed One More Grain), and bashing out a few Peel sessions in the process, Blick is a comfortable creator. His last album The Sound-Board Breathes was an arresting experiment in the fusion of electronica, jazz, afrobeat, funk and krautrock. And yet you could never accuse Gyratory System of being too "out-there" or inaccessible; Sound Board was just downright fun.

Their debut was peppered with aptly London-centric titles: 'Barons Court Turret', 'Sea Containers House', 'Banqueting House'. It was a sonic manifestation of a pulsing city, Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi re-imagined on Holloway Road with taxis and double-deckers zooming about, horns a-blazing. It was a honking, pulsating, cartoon pipe organ fitted with a flux capacitor. New Harmony kicks things off in our capital once more, but this time Blick is 'Lost on the Kingâ's Road', and it's as if he took a wrong turn after Sloane Square and wound up on Tatooine. His imagination no longer bound by geographical constraints, he sets about constructing a space-skronk masterpiece of galactic proportions.

This time around, it's fairly safe (though utterly inadequate) to call the album electronica. With much more emphasis on synths and processed beats, Blick's beloved horn is barely recognisable, if present at all, amidst the countless layers of aural goo. To put it succinctly, this album owes a great deal more to Kraftwerk or Cabaret Voltaire than to Miles Davis or Roland Kirk. There is some satisfyingly Vangelian sound modelling throughout and you could barely call a single track 'funky' in any normal sense of the word. In contemporary terms, it's more akin to Fuck Buttons or even, strangely, Nine Inch Nails. Yet there is still an unfathomably British sensibility that is difficult to pinpoint, possibly in the sense that you could only ever imagine this album being made in Britain, in spite of its astral aspirations.

New Harmony is an utterly invigorating listen. It is challenging yet danceable, a scientifically-crafted fun-box of organic, parping, jazz-rave. A tricky listen first time round, repeated spins will reward the persistent listener, as the delicate layering and audio architecture gradually reveal their majesty. It's a musical zoetrope: sat in the right place at the right time, the various pieces will come together for you to form an image otherwise obscured by it's own genius. When it all falls into place, you'll wonder how you ever missed it.

Like the designer of a magnificent domino rally, you can almost imagine Blick meticulously placing every piece in reverse order, gently flicking the first domino and giggling hysterically as the beautiful mayhem unfolds. Utterly nuts, utterly necessary.