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The Canadian East Coast's aptitude for experimentalism continues to enjoy its renaissance in this collaboration between Montreal psych-rockers Suuns and Radwan Moumneh's art project, Jerusalem In My Heart. The concept for the piece was to hire a Montreal studio and leave seven days later, and they've emerged with a two-headed beast of instinct and consequence.

This guerrilla-style randomness to the process has informed the collection and, in particular, the way motifs develop. Themes are introduced, adapted and undermined constantly, using the strained relationship between Moumneh's deeply percussive musical language and Suuns' lapsed, tribal rhythmical patterns to establish textures rife with tension '3attam Babey'. It's common for collaborative records in this vein to be bewildered by a sense of illegitimacy and to seem a tad non-committal; a number of the joint collections you encounter are watered down into mediocrity because of the general nature of compromise. However, I adore being able to hear two discernable identities and energies creating real friction. Listen to '2amotu I7tirakan' and hear screeching Suuns' guitars trying to poke holes in the revolving, spiky Jerusalem in My Heart figure that forms the song. Through this method of discomfort and its very nature, it is effortlessly explorative.

This sense of great scope is inescapable throughout the record, and the notion of worlds co-existing is the reason that this collection harbours such a sense of optimism and celebration. In songs like 'Metal' or 'Seif', we hear influences that maintain the sense of Jerusalem never being too far from heart. Vocal calls in a harmonic minor tonality, a middle-eastern drumbeat; the record is at its most interesting when at its most spontaneous and instinctual. 'Gazelles in Flight' is a vicious montage of sci-fi synthesisers and auto-tuned vocals - frayed around the edges - that sends you onto a defensive, before shrivelling into the gentle penultimate track of the album, 'Leyla'. Warped and primed with elasticity, it juxtaposes neediness and independence.

As it's such a crude concept and an even rawer delivery: on repeat listens, the same messages that light up like a car dashboard on the first occasion are utterly depressed when you revisit them. It has sounds and cruxes in the composition that are somewhat overcooked throughout the collection, but this is a by-product of an over-active output. In the same way that glorious moments like '3attam Babey' and 'Leyla' are only achievable when you take a leap out of the plane. It's as brilliant a record as it is unmemorable, but ultimately as an artistic vice it is absolutely essential.

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