Whatever its debt to Bach, A Body seldom shows it clearly. The LP's sophisticated musicianship, though, is obvious. Take the thoughtfully arranged layers on "Breathe." Amid snaking drone lines and weeping theremin tones, sustained minor chords seem to glow with rich, intense light, which gently pulls the ear from the digital string melody, and gives the harmony a special depth of field. Borusiade's voice locks this all into place. It's a thick, drowsy monotone that gives "Breathe"'s constant undulations a firm centre of gravity. The lyrics, meanwhile, gesture to supernatural forces: "You told me once you're haunted," she sings, "it haunted me since then / dreamed away your demons / was not enough for them."
Other tracks seem to adopt familiar forms. "An Aquarian Feeling"'s whistling synth curls summon the blissed-out moods of The Orb and Mixmaster Morris. A distant ear might mistake "Breathe" for cold wave. (On "Undone," elements of that track are played backwards.) These brief flashes of recognition, though, are essentially mirages. Borusiade seems inspired less by genres than simple yet intangible ideas—in "Dormant"'s case, perhaps, a sensation. As she recites dictionary definitions—"inactive… torpid… in a state of rest or inactivity"—the track's humid synth trails and warbling tones apply a tranquilising pressure.
A Body should feel brisk at 40 minutes. But the album's fibrous, densely woven harmonies are occasionally overloaded. On tracks like "Breathe" and the heat-hazed ambient of "Cluster," everything is exceptionally well balanced. The drum volleys and tense arps on "Silent (Replicant Version)," however, seem at odds with the low, monophonic pitch, and, after three minutes, the tension remains unresolved. It's just as well, then, that the next track is "A Body." Its steady rhythm, rubbery synths and slow, mantra-like chant all induce a serene state. If the album sits heavy elsewhere, on "A Body" it suddenly begins to slip through your fingers. Borusiade seems to anticipate this relief. "When all you see is one, someone, no-one, everyone," she says, "and all that matters is you, me, them, and anyone."