The rolling waves of crepuscular sounds on this disc are consumptive and nightmare inducing. The single 62 minute track that occupies the whole of Aranos' latest album works on several levels, each of which communicate with each other and inform the shape of the music as a whole. The album rotates about the shamanistic experiences of a Czechoslovakian man named Jiri Nepomuk Prihoda. In 1967 he escaped his home and lived among the Inuit, Samoyed, and Chukchas of Siberia for over 30 years. Apparently Prihoda was witness to or a participant in a ritual that involved submersion into ice-cold waters for weeks at a time. This practice was meant to facilitate an understanding of the subjective nature of the reality all individuals seemingly share. Aranos, whether or not he has captured the hypothermic qualities of this practice, has crafted Bering Sea with an ear to the skeptical view of reality these shamans held. The music is consumptive in two ways: each sound swallows and regurgitates itself or other sounds in a series of digital effects, gongs, low wind blasts, and processed string and metal whirlpools so that the piece sounds as if it is actually turning itself inside out and reinventing itself throughout. Beyond the musical element, Bering Sea is also space consuming and, especially out high volumes, tends to transform the environment it is being played in. Shadows that creep across the room suddenly become far more noticeable and ominous, lights flicker with a greater intensity, and natural light feels far more comfortable and safe than the darkness just over the horizon. One moment the music can be nearly electric in its outbursts, the sizzle of unseen energy bursting and dying immediately in a constant flux of thoughts, and the next moment it can be wholly material. The spirit of this record is both terrestrial and magickal and it moves between the two realms seamlessly. Aranos actually remarks on the back of the rather beautiful packaging that he kept this album at roughly an hour long because of concerns related to disrupting the "space-time continuum;" I highly suggest listening to this on repeat and becoming completely consumed by its rumbling chaos and strange movements. The more these gusts of sounds spill over me and get inside my head, the more my brain shakes and slowly transforms the objects around me. Besides, Aranos does provide a small spot of relief in the last few minutes of the album as reversed singing and guitar begin to fade in and provide a ray of light over the flow of introspection that preceeded it. It's as though Aranos has gathered everyone around a fire to talk about what's just happened and to sing happily of its effects. Bering Sea is available for purchase from Aranos; all the details needed are available at his website. - Lucas Schleicher