The melodies are dissonant, and so are the arrangements, the textures and the range of cultural references Crampton draws upon. For the album's rhythmic base, she uses hard-edged drum samples to interpolate the rhythms of South America's Andean region. Above that, she builds a layer cake of sounds that shouldn't make any sense together—loud airhorns and backspins, metal guitar riffs and synth lines that bring to mind anime or video game soundtracks. On "Oscollo" the upbeat arpeggios are like something from an EDM hit. It's an unexpected turn that's both beautifully earnest and disorienting, given how strange it feels in this context.
"Pachuyma" is relentless. There's the incessant, detuned banging of what sounds like a harpsichord ringing out over shuffling hand drums and radio static. With its cacophonous percussion, "Solilunita" achieves a similar effect, like you're being shaken by the shoulders. The chaos lets up on "Orion Song," giving way to a lovely melodic loop before throwing you back in for the final number. Elysia Crampton isn't always an easy listen. In fact, it's a little bit ugly at times. That intentional clash is exactly what makes her sound so compelling. She cultivates a juicy, electric tension by combining pieces that aren't made to fit evenly together.