The results—two 15-minute passages of quiet-loud-quiet, performed on an orchestra of blooping, swirling, fizzing synths—are less brow-furrowing than this all sounds. The release is at its most accessible in the opening of "Tactus Tempus (Tonal)," where sparse, flickering tones coalesce into sultry minor-key ambience. The energy builds slowly, before giving way to something more cacophonous at around six minutes. At 11 minutes, the dense squall of sound abruptly thins out, and a couple of minutes later the whole thing is reduced to a few unsteady sputters and twangs that slowly recede into nothing.
It's not the overall arc of intensity that makes the track interesting, but the deviations from it: fleeting shifts in mood, eddies of melody and rhythm which quickly dissipate in the improvised confusion. "Tactus Tempus (Noises And Impulses)," which swaps pitched sounds for a roiling sump of half-percussion, scuttling arps and blasts of radio interference, is no more predictable. At first, it's a little too dominated by a single looping rhythmic part, but soon the cloud of detail underneath rises to enshroud it. Shortly before the ten-minute mark, a grinding high-pitched howl signals the start of the track's unsteady descent back to silence, and that loop becomes the punctuation in a more delicate texture of filtered noise and decelerating pulse bursts.