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It's well-documented that neo-classical experimentalist Ólafur Arnalds and Bloodgroup's Janus Rasmussen form Kiasmos, an ambient techno project. The two are renowned musicians in their own rights, and Kiasmos doesn't stray far from what the pair do for their day jobs - it's all very atmospheric, structured and verging on the avante-garde.

The duo's debut LP - they've been releasing short-lengths for a while now - comes in the form of Kiasmos, an eight track album with a penchant for slow-burning evolution, moody soundscapes and a twang of strung-out 5am post-club anxiety. It's a heady concoction, for sure. With two acclaimed musicians at the wheel, it was only ever going to be great, wasn't it?

Tracks like 'Bent' are particularly massive. It throbs in slow-mo like the crumbling disco denouement of some Guy Richie flick; it's seedy, strobe-riddled post-techno for those with nefarious desires, and it's bloody excellent. It's completely instrumental, but there's a solace, a regret and a desperation - a guilt, a sorrow. It's emblematic of the complexity of the record itself. Kiasmos runs the gamut of difficult emotional concepts with aplomb, and completely devoid of lyrical pointers.

'Held' is a swoony, fantastical effort with chiming synths and the effervescent fizz of percussion winding through. 'Swayed' whiffs of Caribou's less poppy moments. 'Thrown' is pierced with glasslike shards. 'Lit' has an air of ravey '90s trance about it. All these different environments aren't necessarily overt, but they're there, lurking beneath the web of percussion and synth soundscapes.

The result is an immersive, cohesive, tangled album. In this way, the Kiasmos partnership is akin to Samaris: there's no out-and-out bangers looming on the surface, and to fully appreciate the majesty of this record you'll need to sit with it and take some time to focus on the nitty-gritty, the fine print, the minutiae. It's well worth the effort, as Kiasmos takes your on a sordid journey through snowy hinterlands, far-flung taiga forests and the brutal isolation of blizzarded tundra. It's distinctly Scandinavian, again, like Samaris, in how it evokes the feelings of loneliness, desolation and subtle warmth.

If you've got the patience, then this is a remarkably rewarding listen. Kiasmos is a beautiful relationship, and if one thing comes from the release of this record, we should all bow down and pray to all the gods that it's not a one-off. There's heaps of promise here.

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