Being only tangentially familiar with either of these gentlemen, I knew not what to expect from this disc. I was quite pleasantly surprised to witness a revolving, almost kaleidoscopic assemblage of sounds set in liquid amber and floating precariously in mid tumble. For some reason I am put in mind of a sphere encrusted with bits of sonic detritus, turning in uncanny unpredictable circuits, each quadrant of the surface exposing a different utterance. Surely there are loops involved, or at least manual repetitions which place each sound in a new setting each time it recurs. There are some familiar events like beach waves or children playing set in rapidly changing environments of eruptions electronic, stretched and bent beyond recognition.

The whole invokes the feeling of nostalgia, perhaps someone else's. Bits of unconnected remembrance rub against each other. How is it that we are suddenly subject to the recall of some past event? Why do some things "stick" and not others? Is there really any reason for the seemingly random unveiling of bits from our past, or is it in their order that meaning should be sought? Why do some stimuli bring forth certain instances from our past but not others? These are the kind of questions that arose during my listening to The Memory Of Things. The connections are entirely ours to make here, of course. We cannot know the specificity of these sounds in their own time, so we concoct our own, based on our own sets of circumstances. The subsequent filtering of this stuff into language is often the most difficult task, hence this quagmire of wordage.

Put another way; if you were to construct a music based on someone else's description of what music is, would it sound anything like this? Or more like Kpop or dubstep?

It seems that Duplant and Nehil have begun again, and from the ground up. And I see that certain writers have picked this example as one of the best releases of the past year. I'll not be one to argue.