By Sam Walton

From the stable whose recent releases have included the icily beautiful Drive soundtrack and the foreboding sound of Beak>, comes another slab of uncompromising retro-futuristic analogue bleep and drone in the shape of Fairhorns, otherwise known as one-man noise machine (and taciturn keyboard player for Beak>) Matt Williams, whose form in the field of terrifying free-form jazz chaos is long and strong. Here though Williams reins in the out-and-out headfuckery and replaces it with a hulking grid of sound that undulates and mutates subtly across ‘Doki Doki Run’’s duration, providing an underlying structure that makes its most outré moments more digestible and the entire record seem pleasantly shorter than its 44 minutes.

There’s a undeniably organic feel to the album too, perhaps deliberately: “doki doki” is an onomatopoeic Japanese phrase for a heartbeat, and while one might assume that Williams just likes the sound of the word (other pleasing obscurities in the tracklisting include ‘hectocotylus’, a squid’s penis, online game ‘Ragnarok’, and ‘Qiyamat’, an ancient Islam term for the day of judgement), there’s a natural element to ‘Doki Doki Run’’s pulsations that gives the entire record a satisfyingly unprocessed, human touch. Baffling, startling, but strangely warm and never overwhelming, ‘Doki Doki Run’ is an eccentric gem that not just rewards careful listening but positively encourages it.

Read all of our new album reviews here, in this month’s Loud And Quiet

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