Cristal

Cristal's four-track effort from 2004 probably won't be used in an ad campaign for a certain champagne any time soon — not unless they're interested in terrifying their customers. Following in the exploratory vein of any number of '90s dark ambient/isolationist composers — Main in particular, though with less focus on rhythm and more on sheer creep-out — Cristal starts with disembodied howls that could be cold winds before bursts and swells of chaotic static and feedback start disrupting the relative peace. From there the album, its four compositions essentially blending with each other to create one half-hour-long effort, shifts constantly between poles of restrained chill and rampant noise, occasionally chopped up into loops but more often than not ripping through the mix seemingly at random. No indication is given, but there is a sense of improvisation at work, with sudden stutters and switches in sound at many points. At some points things almost calm down — thus the dubwise echo and buried bass at the end of the second track, less freaked out and more attractively melancholy — or in the concluding few minutes.