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Buoyed by the cryptic digital egg hunt, and boosted by the strict listening lockdown, in a year where The Knife, MBV and Daft Punk have worked similarly grandiose introductions, the anticipation around Boards of Canada’s fourth album has bordered on fanboy feral. Finally, we get to feel ‘Gemini’ pulse into life, the molasses-thick, chasm-deep melodies of the gargantuan ‘Cold Earth’ surge with unparalleled energy, and the amplified Moroder-futurism of ‘Sick Times’ rage and rumble with colossal power.

The size and scale of this collection of tracks is staggering; big, booming ambience, skittering trip-hop glitches and BoC’s most aggressive drum programming to date meet sepia-tinged memories buried in the soundwaves. Roused by Richter-scale energy and heavy, heaving melodies, ‘Reach for the Dead’ and ‘Jacquard Causeway’ continue the percussive assault, kicking in with clattering, cantankerous thumps while ‘Telepath’ and ‘Split Your Infinities’ death-threat interludes hint at the tension and trepidation that courses through the album. On ‘White Cyclosa’, chiming melodies sit on top of the menace simmering beneath – its nervous, scattered energy playing out in the hypnotism repetition – whereas that contrasting energy on ‘Uritual’ comes on like a wilderness song; a deranged desert session gone primal with shamanic didgeridoo and hallucinogen stares into space.

Cynically, these first listens could only ever scratch the surface. So in the same way the cloak and dagger codes and the record store mysteries prolong an already celebrated return, ‘Tomorrow’s Harvest’ will also gradually reveal itself with every glorious listen. It’s a point underscored in the effortlessly accomplished ‘Sundown’ and the chest-cavity reverberating power of closer ‘Come to Dust’. The all-enveloping, all-consuming finale, it’s more than just the final piece in the ‘Tomorrow’s Harvest’ puzzle, it’s Boards of Canada’s eight year climax.