The second of two solo discs from Stefano Ferrian, whom you may know from the criminally under-appreciated avant-garde grindcore band Psychofagist. One of Italy's premier outre death/grind acts, Psychofagist has been blowin' my ears out for over half a decade, serving up angular, skronk-infused blast-metal soaked in a heavy John Zorn/Painkiller influence. Amazing stuff, especially the new material that has appeared on that recent split with Antigama. So here we've got Ferrian working alone, constructing some long-form improvisational pieces that are devoid of the metallisms of his main band but which are still working in an extremist mode, blending spirited saxophone melodies and aggressive blurt with dissonant clouds of eerie, ethereal piano, smeared and blurred fragments of deformed electronics and backwards sound, and minimal percussion.

This disc is creepier than the first right off the bat; the soulful notes that Ferrian coaxes from his sax come flitting over atonal guitar strings and swirling electronic chimes, producing a decidedly uneasy and unsettling air at the start. And then that hideous stop-start riff raises it's head, recalling that putrid noise rock riff at the end of the first disc, but this time it's heavier and more noxious, blown-out filth-bass squirming and coiling around Ferrian's nimble guitar picking, resembling a cross between an inverted classical guitar piece and one of Combat Astronomy's lurching prog-jazz assaults. Some vocals find their way here as well, sinister mutterings and murmurings beneath the circular guitar figures and blurts of out-jazz. And then the "Wovoka" section comes in, and this gets seriously heavy, the fractured atonal guitar erupting along with slow, crushing drums and bass into an almost Neurosis-like power-dirge, hypnotic and malevolent and locked into an almost mechanical groove. That pounding heaviness grinds away for awhile before heading off to cover more ground with free-jazz sax howl and droning feedback, bouts of spindly, pointillist math-rock, later returning to plunge back into the doom-laden heaviness with varying amounts of saxophone and electronics joining in the slo-mo progcrush. By the end of the disc, Ferrian veers this off into a strange rhythmic industrial soundtrack as looped drums and distended choral voices stretch out into the night.

Recommended if you're into the heavier, more aggro sounds of jazz-influenced prog crunchers like Univers Zero, Red-era King Crimson, and even the industroid jazzcrush of Combat Astronomy. Like the first disc in this series, this comes housed between two slabs of heavy die-cut cardboard that are held in a printed o-card sleeve with metallic silver foil.