From the opening scream of "Cascadeuse" (stuntwoman), I knew this would be a bit different from the other eRikm discs I am familiar with: interrupting a very low-pitched airy rumble, it's extremely distorted and unhuman sounding. The second scream is longer, end even more processed, and by the third there are added random prolonged blasts of noise. Clouds of piano chord harmonics and metallic scritches arise, to be covered up by another blast of noise and wailing. Brief feedback, walls of low harmonics, slimy whispering and what might be water come next — a madwoman splashing about under a waterfall. I am reminded a bit of Diamanda Galas or Maja Ratkje, trying to out-scream a jet engine.

"Machette" comes a bit closer to my expectations. Cut-and-paste and nice wacky sound exchanges, with Musiera rapidly speaking in tongues and chopped up or adjoined by skipping records and slip-slidey electronics. "Vertugadin" (a type of women's costume) sounds like Galas crossed with Anna Homler while eRikm interjects a wide variety of mangled sound sources: organ chords, dumpster thumps, chittery video game blips, etc. Perhaps the most comical of the pieces offered, it puts me in mind of those Spy vs. Spy TV ads from a few years back.

"Crinoline" (another clothing reference) seems to have actual words, though I'm not sure what language(s) they're in. It also skirts the realm of conventional music, with its insistent repetitive bass drum beat and hard to place chordage. Sadly, it's all too brief. "Soulage" (raise, lighten, to make oneself feel better) is eRikm solo, a short stint of high-pitched reedy sounding tones criss-crossing and tossing out bizarre harmonic distortions, a bit of single-mindedness amid the duet fury. Drum beats feature again on "Labile" (liable to change) albeit briefly, before things change, where Musiera is a mosquito to eRikm's skipping CD player; she has an uncanny ability to sound like anything but a human voice, and he matches her attempts to confound admirably.