Nothing endures on Clonic Earth. Recurring motifs are rare, melodies are scarce and seemingly unintentional, and the drones constantly dissipate. Tricoli builds the backdrop of "The Hallowed Receiver" with a digital swarm of noise, only for it to disintegrate into eerie ambient tones. "Stromkirche Or Terminale" follows with a similar sort of noise—this time it perseveres, going on to develop a choral voice. The track is sprawling and fragmented, and when choral chants appear again, they stutter like stifled yawns. Every element feels damaged. These varying degrees of affliction spread across each sound, giving the album its texture and depth.
Tricoli manipulates and samples a variety of curios, littering them across his record. "Interno D'Incendio" features tense whispers ("I scared myself") that are difficult to make out. The track fizzes and crackles as if it's burning, and all that's left at the end is industrial percussion, one of the album's few rhythms. "As For The Crack" sends its throbbing bass, splintered horror melodies and bell chimes to peel away in a furnace. Sounds are broken down until they dissolve into the ether of drone. Near the album's end, commanding shouts are barked from a distance, and what sounds like a traditional Turkish melody surfaces from nowhere.
Clonic Earth aims to find beauty in impermanence. It's hard to recall the pieces that have faded away, and there's no chance of anticipating what's to come. This teaches the listener to value the character of sounds. Amidst the ongoing decay, we're encouraged to look for signs of life.