Marc Baron is perhaps best known for his reed instrument improvisations, but Hidden Tapes shows how he applies his sensibilities to composition and sound art, using cut-up, noise, and found sound in conjunction with pre-recorded pieces. This disc starts with "1991-2005", which sounds like a bomb falling on a Ministry concert, witnessed from a distant campfire. There is a brief aftermath of burning wreckage and anguish before the recording device finally succumbs to the assault. Then brief silence, broken by insectoid synth modulation.

"2010-2012" is built on wave after wave of rumbling digital distortion, fizzing and lurching forward like molten lava. A sub frequency bass drum keeps things in time as more mangled sound events invade the listening space. Eventually queasy, churning feedback takes over and makes way for some more melodic smears of noise.

"Interlude" sounds a bit like a Burial track, minus the knife fight percussion. The meter seems to be provided by a malfunctioning air conditioner. Dread is the prevailing emotion here; time shifted voice intones goodness knows what while a malicious bass line throbs beneath.

"2013 a happy summer with children" could be the creepiest of the lot, with haunted house keys, rummaging through a tote bag, sub-marine tones, and the sound of children playing. Is this a field recording made by a pedophile? A distant military band is heard in various stages of proximity and processing.

1965-2013 starts at a coffee house gig as a riff starts and abruptly ends, falling into a subterranean black hole of ill will and distant sub bass. Hissing, warbling, and vengeful; this piece ups the ante on hair-raising sonics. Hinges creak and doors slowly swing open, signaling the presence of some sinister being. The tectonic splatter of low end eventually returns before the maelstrom finally recedes, revealing soft 808 kicks and fading noise-sludge.