Often these tracks begin with one vibe before sidestepping imperceptibly into another. "A" is furtive, hidden behind roiling details, its beat bolt upright, but it eventually opens up, lets the air in and becomes tender. "B" is looser limbed with a warmer ambience, eventually slipping into a dank world of moody bass and disconnected threads of voice. "C" is stripped, punchier, less satisfying in the headphones but stands tall on the rig. "D" is the one, providing the most memorable combination of the syncopated subs and urgent leads first heard on the C-side.
There's not a lot to grab onto here in a traditional sense. All you have is momentum and a horde of small details whose connecting logic is elusive besides their improvised, questing nature. In the club, they're endless, wiggy tools with sound design on par with electroacoustic composers. If you're in the right mood to closely follow these tunes, it can be a rewarding experience. At the same time, if your ear finds nothing to latch onto, you might miss the whole thing. But that paradox is what makes Arnorac so good.