Life After Death

Eric Burton, from Houston, has been a key player in the rise of the politicised, hyper-psychedelic, strain of club music that is bubbled over into the wider consciousness in the 2010s. A close ally of artists like Chino Amobi, and his fellow Texan Lotic, he brought together grime, ambient, New Jersey club and in particular a fascination with the transgressive psychedelic electronics of Coil into a terrifying but exhilarating sound that is a million miles from standard dance rhythms yet somehow works in more deranged, debauched parties. His fifth solo album, though, is mostly beatless — almost an audio movie: with its snippets of moody voiceover talking of horror, death, totalitarianism and the flimsiness of civilisation, this feels like a narrated soundtrack to the end of the world. There are hooks of a sort — memorable riffs, anyway — but the savagery of the way even small sounds cut in to your attention is fearsome, and you never know when a blast of noise is coming. Perhaps in later tracks “eX” and “Daydream” you might detect a hint of peace, but even they are disquieting. Yet the louder you play it, the more pleasurable it is, and you can come away from this feeling strengthened, even overjoyed by the experience. You won’t understand what’s happened to you, but there’s a strong chance you’ll want it to happen again.