Search The Line of Best Fit
Search The Line of Best Fit

Electronic curio IGLOOGHOST's return is an enthrallingly dark and bizarre affair

"Lei Line Eon"

Release date: 02 April 2021
Album of the week
29 March 2021, 07:30 Written by Robin Ferris
The difficult second album is a tired cliche, but it’s given a whole new meaning when the artists debut is a legitimate genre classic.

Neo Wax Bloom was an album that saw Dorset producer Seamus Rawles Maliagh grow from an underground electronic curio to one of the most enigmatic producers around, thanks to the albums cutting-edge pop and jazzy sonic sculpture blend. His second under his moniker a Iglooghost, Lei Line Eon fits snugly into the same universe, but where Neo packed every inch of its fibre with deconstructed breakbeats and multicoloured synths, Lei Line Eon is a darker, more restrained sequel; leaving stark gaps where every sound can reverberate and conjure bizarre churns in the listener's stomach. If Neo was hyperpop’s answer to Squarepusher, Lei is our Autechre.

Iglooghost has managed to create sounds that feel completely organic and naturalistic yet hyper-digital at the same time - anchored on occasion by violin embellishments, dutifully adding a tragic grit to the songs, stopping them from drifting away. There's a real variety too; the dirty drum and bass wubs of “UI birth'' are topped by dream-pop vocals from guest Baabi, and “Amu” features possibly the most effective use of a children's choir since Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall”. Seamus’ own hushed grime verses on “Pure Grey circle” provide a much-needed groove amongst stuttering tuned percussion, not to mention both the opener “Eoe” and closer “Yellow Umbra” drip with cold piano arpeggios ripped from a dream sequence in a '70s Italian horror movie, tying up the album’s journey in haunting style.

With all that surrounds Iglooghost’s music, from the string of collaborations to short films to club nights and exhibitions, all showcasing a “fictional ecosystem of strange entities and tiny gods”, it would be easy to dismiss as gimmicky, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Every animated squiggle and tongue-in-cheek mockumentary video somehow reinforces Iglooghost’s music, giving the menagerie of bizarre sounds and textures a breeding ground where they suddenly make complete sense. That's not to say you’ll feel any closer to deciphering exactly what Iglooghost is upon finishing this album, but you’ll have an out-of-body experience trying.

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