It might take a while, but after you spend a few minutes listening to Ateleia his music becomes something of a relentless emotional disturbance, a complexity made of pleasure and unsteadiness. James Elliott has a knack for assembling pragmatic re-drawings of conventional instrumentals and wham-bang deformations of torrential flows of decorticated frequencies. All this coming from rather “regular” guitars, synths and sampling, employed as basic sources by Elliott and comrades to open several new vistas over vacant quarters and nondescript conglomerates of disposable detritus. Ateleia’s muezzin call to unsettling aural prayers must be heard – loud – in many desolate corners of this world.