The upfront attack of "Fizz" has none of the steadiness that defined Body Music. The snares flicker rapidly over the bump-in-the-night beat, which feels sped up unnaturally—think of a 33 playing at 45. The choked strum of an electric guitar intermittently builds tension only to dissipate into the track's furious turbines. Rickety and rudimentary, for all the supposed drum & bass cues, it sounds like something from a decade or two before the genre's inception.
"Wharton Tiers On Drums," named after the American avant-garde drummer, hearkens back to older Powell, the halftime cousin to the A-side's blitzkrieg. But the palette is largely the same: the drums knock dully against some invisible wall and guitar chords are fractured like glass, while bits of static and vocal detritus wedge their way in. The 90-second "Beats" picks itself up from the wreckage of its predecessor and continues the way things left off, this time eaten away by a wormy bassline. All three tracks use lifelike drum sounds (or samples), but plot them in a completely inhuman way. Powell's newest experiment is as fascinating as ever, and this time it could probably do damage a dance floor, too.