Indirect is an honest title: individual elements are engineered with such precision that each track conceals surprises and makes multiple listens continually transportive. As beats materialize, they just as quickly sputter and dissolve before you can grasp them: the regenerating cymbal licks and floaty synth clouds of "Geneza," an Orbital-meets-Luciano creation story replete with repetitions of "and then there was light," never quite assert themselves. A factory sputters and spews over a three-note Morse code swirl in "Discurs pe fundai," interrupted by sonar moans.
On "Mecanism LRG3000," robotic yearning scuffles with pillowy bass and shivering menace. While you can luxuriate in every drip, click and shuffle, the track stammers and stalls on a larger level. This inconsistency—that the audible formulation of an idea can be more interesting than its eventual regenerations—is Premiesku's biggest difficulty, but it's one they seem lucky enough to have mostly noticed in the editing room. On "E Codat," each broken bell and piece of ragged percussion is imbued with a sense of cosmic possibility. "In Mod Indirect" is a symphony of broken appliances slowly finding their way to each other among simplistic bass plunges, while closer "Vag" achieves a psychedelic minimalism, tentative piano peeking out, ready to smother bad vibes.
Indirect occasionally causes glazed eyes with the various dodges and backfires, but even the one-dimensional structures reward patience, as elements intrude and slide sneakily to the forefront. If anything, the album could apply more jolts of feverish energy. As it stands, Indirect is entrancing, the sound of industrious aliens leisurely mastering human tools.