Here’s a collaborative album from Automatisme and Stefan Paulus, released on Constellation so I lazily assumed I’d be hearing post-rock or whatever it is called nowadays; however, instead Gap/Void is a monolithic slab of shifting tectonic techno and abyssal drones. The CD has ten tracks, and if I understand correctly the last five are field recordings made (and processed) by Paulus, whilst the first five are Automatisme’s (William Jourdain) treatments using these field recordings. The CD comes in a cardboard wallet depicting washed-out black and white images of mountains: the location of Paulus’ recordings and an apt visual focus for the album.

The first half of Gap/Void belongs to Automatisme’s constructions, which pursue an abstract techno line, glitching and dubby, reminiscent of releases from Mille Plateaux. ‘Säntis’ lurches along on fluctuating kicks, as Jourdain pushes and pulls the tempos and rhythms, akin to very abstract techno or very confused gabba. Around these beats electronic stabs stutter and droning elements swell, aided by creeping bitcrushed noises, before the track is consumed by a noisy, swarming wall of drone. The second piece, ‘Marwees,’ displays judicious use of reverb and pulsing bass, with hypnotic layers of percussive sounds. ‘Üble Schlucht’ bounces along on persistent stumbling kicks, evoking an odd mutant dub feel; there’s a sense that the track is constantly being pulled apart and reconstituted by Automatisme, as if you were examining it from all sides. The fourth work, ‘Blau Schnee,’ opens with a very dancefloor-friendly bassline which is jolting in the context of previous tracks; however, it turns out to one of the more textural pieces, with jumbled waves of snapping electronic sounds echoing over each other. The final Automatisme reworking, ‘Stoos,’ has a more stealthy approach, with interlocking rhythms of clicks and beats that build into a levitating trance that makes me think of ecstatic ritual music.

The second half of Gap/Void, Paulus’ source material, is very obviously different to the preceding tracks, however, the field recordings are not presented ‘raw’ and indeed have been processed by Paulus. ‘Wisswand’ begins with panning streaks of noise, establishing a drone that is punctuated by spits of noise and sounds pushed to the point of saturation. The second work, ‘Schwarzhorn,’ is a blizzard-like wall of noise, complete with a submerged, undulating bass drone, whilst the third, ‘Tothore,’ cuts a similar path through a wall of hissy rain. ‘Nob’ pits stuttering noise textures against a flanging background drone, all of which seems to somehow conjure up ethereal voices buried in the mix. The final piece, ‘Wisshorn,’ is a billowing hollow drone, effortlessly evoking the ‘emptiness’ of mountain ranges and providing a fitting climax to the album.

On paper this is perhaps an odd album, being comprised of two distinct halves which may or may not have crossover appeal, but it does work - and as a side-note it’s perhaps worth saying that the vinyl release contains only Automatisme’s tracks with the remaining pieces as a download. When I first heard Automatisme’s half my initial reaction was that it wasn’t ‘my kind of thing’ but whilst it perhaps isn’t, the pieces are expertly crafted and compelling, with meticulous attention to detail, to the extent that I really did enjoy them; ’Stoos’ is particularly great. Paulus’ half is perhaps less engaging, but the layers of sounds do create weird aural hallucinations which is always pleasant. So, a good collaboration/split, conceptually sound and well crafted by two names that I’ll keep an eye out for in future.