Their success mostly depends on their intensity. "Perforated Spoon" thunders nicely through, its oily splats and splutters periodically turning molten. "Pocket For A Leaky Coin" is made of similar stuff, though its string of eardrum-scraping ideas follow an odd disjointed logic. "Landowner" is the EP's most intriguing could-have-been, its roiling syncopations begging to be transformed into a broken-beat techno monster.
The energy dips further at the EP's tail-end. "There Is Almost No God" and "Bleed On Me" feature a single loop—not so much rhythmic as repetitious—drenched in sheets of noise. Both sound static and lifeless, as if Tolkachev left his setup running while making a cup of tea. The seething mulch of "No One Waves Goodbye," meanwhile, sounds like a downtempo track fractured into a million tiny shards. It's nice to hear Tolkachev pull his music apart, but the real trick will be when he puts it back together again.