On ‘Cerulean’, Will Wiesenfeld created a debut that was sparse and elusive, melodious and frighteningly progressive but after a suffering a debilitating bout of e.coli, those previous chilled out harmonies now run deeper and darker than we could have anticipated.

Unable to do anything beyond basic human functions at the time, Wiesenfeld’s frustrations emerge on ‘Obsidian’ – an album wracked with death and a lurching discontent.

Those grim ailments inevitably cultivated the dark, acerbic observations that underpin the loathing of ‘Incompatible’, drove the tumult of restless noise on ‘Earth Death’ and turned the shifting layers of ‘Miasma Sky’ into a downbeat 8-bit beauty.

It’s an aftermath and reflection that’s both candid and brutal, but for all the scything nihilism, the woozy, haze-drenched ‘Ossuary’ and the string-laden drama of ‘Ironworks’ encompass the flickers of positivity on what’s another rich, enveloping curation. It’s still dark matter that hangs heavy but in Wiesenfeld‘s resourceful hands, ‘Obsidian’ is a re-imagination cut with a brilliantly ornate beauty.

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