Most tracks typically set extended mid-range chords or notes, full of slow, pulsing collisions sliding kaleidiscopically around each other, against recordings of what could be industrious movements or electrical discharges. The prescence of these layers then builds steadily towards a maximum volume only to peter out around the four minute mark, leaving reverberating or echoing detritus behind as it fades.

The perfectly-titled ‘Early Morning Fog’ that opens the album follows this pattern faithfully, but allows a kalimba to break through the moody, ominous droning to conjure memories of childhood creating a strong sense of menace. This feeling of dread crops up throughout and is perhaps felt most mid-way through on ‘Incremental Shift’ whose crusty bass tone, bursting with a relentless distortion, smothers a rippling piano as the sound of a knife being sharpened persists to give an impression of imminent psychopathic violence.

But for the most part the other tracks leave you feeling indifferent (and sometimes with a headache). This is in part due to the predominance of distorted, mid-range frequencies played as short drones that lack the time to develop or contrast with any subtler elements, making the album feel monotonous; and partly due to the seemingly random interplay of sparse artefacts that has both harmonic and electro-acoustic considerations but without any feel of an intent behind the resultant building noise.

As half of Ural Umbo, Reto Mäder’s work feels far more engaging as his aberrant choices are contained through the percussive framework of partner Steven Hess. So despite its experienced master, Reflex feels for the most part too wild to woo its audience with its occasionally chilling anecdotes.