That's not about to change, but the two tracks on this new single are enjoyable on their own terms, at least. "Zambomba" feels a little prosaic on the first few listens, but its combination of bass that throbs below the rhythm's spine, pounding piano chords that slowly rise to form the track's crescendo, and hand claps that somehow jolt electricity down your back, give the track natural dynamics and unerring design. I sympathize with the RA writer who, in personal correspondence, described Ferenc as "music at end"—an almost clinical "perfection" of a genre, the track as box-ticking exercise—but "Zambomba" has enough life to part-shrug those comments.
"Boixos Noise" is better, the dogged simplicity of its structure making way for some of the most visceral rushes of noise heard in ages. It's as though serious shortwave interference is violating the track, amplifying, swarming and then pushing through the rhythm's veins, all but swallowing "Boixos Noise" in its gaping maw. As a "last word" or caricature of a generic signifier, it's pretty funny. But more importantly, as a sonic object itself, an experience that could potentially disrupt the linear flow of "Boixos Noise," it's magnificent, a glorious interruption.