Both tracks on the Merchant of Salt EP are hair-raising affairs: the corkscrewing "Shepherd's Brine" is soaked in resonant squelch, and its headlong tumble recalls psychedelic trance circa 1994 (Atom Heart and Tetsu Inoue's "Head Dance," for example). "Waterfall" boasts a lankier, more relaxed groove, at least in the beginning, emphasizing skipping, house-centric upbeats, but the midrange is a maelstrom of metallic synths and silky filters, and the overall effect follows from the austerity of Pansonic, Plastikman and Sleeparchive.
The Artificial Light EP is slower, darker and more narcotic; instead of an expressway to your skull, it's a series of stealthy wormholes trepanning your dome in multiple points. There's no parsing the various elements of the three mercurial tracks; just an endless spiral of LFOs fluttering in the shadows of muted beats, and handclaps dissolving into fields of drone. Sometimes there are "beats," and sometimes just pulse; no matter what shape it assumes, this is techno at its headiest.