One of the most distinctive things about this release is the way it begins, a long, slow build atypical of noise music, a filtered facsimile of wind that grows, steady and inevitable as the hurricane approaches.  Around 3 minutes a piercing high frequency synth enters and dwells mercilessly on a robust and perfectly obnoxious tone, arcing lazily down into an eerie, glassy consonance over the next couple minutes as the windy white noise recedes into nothing.  The tone itself then begins to short out into squealing scraps of feedback.  Around 6 minutes, the piece lurches into harsh noise mode with some frequency modulation.  My ears don't like it, but I appreciate it as a dramatic gesture.

The remaining 20 minutes of track one are more common harsh noise fare, though Novosak has an uncommon fascination with the higher frequencies ranges and whitewash timbres that recall a firehose.  The first deeper tones are introduced around the 8 minute mark, and from this point on I find the grainy textures pleasing.  Having jammed with synths like the unpredictable ARP 2600, I notice that this sounds very similar to the sounds I got.  As often occurs in improvised noise music, the purely synthetic barrage ripples and quakes in surprisingly organic thunderous hail storm patterns.  Like many Merzbow releases, the noise is regularly broken up by squelching modulation and bits of silence, allowing for variation in rhythm and density.  The end of the track is anticlimactic: nearly 4 minutes of lazy, subdued bass swells.  It sounds like a build up for a truly powerful moment that never comes, but it's probably the most pleasant sound on the album.

The 29 minute second track wastes no time with entrances, dropping the listener immediately into a scorching cataclysm that is indeed thrilling, at least for the first few minutes.  Heavy LFOs and beating frequencies create brief moments of rhythmic consistency.  Mostly, there are the same ideas and sounds here as in Side A, but with a more formidable and satisfying physicality to the sound.

This track stops completely 17 minutes in, and a new 'track' begins, highlighting the informality of this release.  This track is slower moving, dwelling on a thick dissonant tone cluster with shifting undercurrents of bass.  It continues as an indecisive drone, with different pitches in the chord wandering up and down whimsically.  It's some of the most listenable stuff on the album but also some of the least engaging.

So Novasak's "The Exploding Sorority Machine" is a solid but forgettable slice of harsh analog noise.  Nostalgic diehard fans of the old ways will eat this up for all its directness and simplicity.  The tracks have no momentum to speak of, but then this genre was always about the sheer joy of powerful sound in the present moment.  I am glad to have heard it, but I can find no reason to recommend it over countless other noise releases with more attitude and distinctive character, and truthfully I may never listen to it again.  Anonymity itself is also a part of noise culture, so again this is not exactly a criticism.  If you truly love harsh noise, check this release out.