One of the last releases from Autumn Wind before the label went on hiatus, Prime is the first Lp (actually a reissue of a limited cdr release from 2006) from A Minority Of One, a somewhat mysterious outfit from the Pacific Northwest that includes members of Crash Worship, avant-black metallers L'Acephale, and the experimental neo-folk project Waldteufel. The band delves into abstract, shadowy sound rituals and strange ethno-ambient beatscapes on Prime using electric guitar, bass, handmade drums, e-bow, horns, bull roarer, bells, prayer bowls, field recordings, samples of glass, water, as well as a drum sequencer. They summon up a sumptuous organic ambience made up of circular percussive sounds and whispers, clanking metal and whirring drones, which after a few minutes leads into the primitive boom-bap of an ancient drum machine, taking this into unexpected Scorn-like territory, the big dubbed out beats whirling over another metallic polyrhythm as strange shamanic chanting drifts in, and ending with everything fading out and being replaced with a locked groove of metallic thrum. Not at all what I was initially expecting from this group, but very cool...the second song "A Call To Action" has ominous horns blowing across a vast distance while sampled galloping percussive sounds echo in the foreground, and more and more horns are layered on top of each other, creating a strange surreal soundscape. The following tracks move through more eerie droning strings, more sampled looped sounds of hooves trampling the earth that eventually form into a clicking electronic rhythm; the track "Yarroway" (which originally appeared on the Infernal Proteus compilation from Ajna Offensive) blends over modulated synths with a distorted bass line and a loping, rubbery groove. On "The Newest Of Grey Days", thick distorted bass chords hum like huge blocks of buzzing Earth-ish drone, bits of delicate guitar winding at the edges. The last song "Felld" has another simple looped bass line locked into another infinite groove, swells of buzzing feedback and black amplifier smoke drifting through this buzzing, repetitious ambient piece that's sort of similar to the looped turntablescapes of Strotter Inst., finally fading off as those hoof beats come trampling back in, and end the record with a constant galloping loop repeating over and over. It's a weird experience that should be of interest to enthusiasts of the Glass Throat roster, post-industrial mysticism and occult drone-folk...