Data files and shortwave, that’s all it takes for John Duncan and Peter Fleur to instantly incinerate whoever tries to open the creaky door to their electroacoustic secrets. “The scattering” alternates acid textures with a subterranean low pulse projecting the music directly to the crossing of your conscient/altered states, often violently surprising with long silent pauses followed by sudden discharges. The rumble of a thousand bottled thunderstorms opens Fleur’s “Aggregate”, only to transform itself into an evil factory producing ultra-high frequencies and metallic laminates of scorching abrasiveness (curiously, all of the above seems to attract birds around my place; it’s not the first time they start chirping loud while I listen to particular recordings). Duncan’s “Threshold” closes this work starting from silence itself, slowly bringing up rippling currents of almost imperceptible shortwave emissions that inexorably affirm their power in the desolate border area where a concentrate state of shock, aural electrocution and yet again that incredible sense of belonging to nowhere meet. Mind you, this record is not useful for mass appreciation and its impact on nerves is potent; to me, it’s an essential page of modern art.