Those distinct touches are what makes Chronicles of Never such a pleasure to listen and to move to. Each track exists in its own sonic bubble—"Daybreak" bubbles and slides over doom-calling metallic chords; "Berolina" features a flurry of percussion and a wickedly distorted horn riff; "Pravda" is deep house descending a glass elevator into a club near the center of the Earth; "30th May" is a Tiki party pounded out on hollow pipes while arpeggios dance around the beach. But despite the wide-ranging compositions, noises and styles, Czubala manages to hang the pieces together to make a comprehensive whole, as the disparate tunes are united by a common set of characteristics and musical voices that recur throughout the album: short bursts of melody and queasy synth noises that appear from the ether, many varieties of hand drums, shimmering chords that mysteriously rise in and out of the mix and distant, distorted vocal samples.
Czubala keeps listeners guessing with every turn, but still manages to keep a consistent percussive pulse present. Much like spiritual comrades Ricardo Villalobos, Tobias Freund and Stefan Goldmann, Czubala experiments without losing sight of the dancefloor, as syncopated beats burn with a quiet intensity throughout even as a dizzying array of bells and whistles whizz by. It's rare to hear a dance album this accomplished, and yet this overtly bizzare-sounding.