Even though Philly-based band is made up of just two people, they conjure enough layers of sonic sludge to sound not just like a large band on full power, but a wall of beautifully gnarled noise calling out from the depths of a black hole. Building on the clatter of decidedly primitive drum-machine rhythms, 's overdriven bass lines wobble and churn as his bandmate fills in any space with tentacular waves of saxophone, delay-drenched vocals and deep-fried electronics. Their numbers are small but the sound is far from minimal. Second full-length is composed of just five pieces where the band's ever-murky cosmic tripping is sounding bigger and less contained than ever before. Space rock pioneers are often pointed to as a frame of reference for ' deeply spacey and sometimes sci-fi sound, and the repetitive, fuzzy basslines, decaying echos, and celestial synths all back that up. However, there's a lot more going on than reimagining '70s Krautrock scenes on . The jittery vocals and amphetamine power-pop melodies of "Steely Eyed Missile Man" recall , and ' spun-out saxophone lines meshing with unrelenting bass impart the same paranoid energy of no-wave acts like or . The entire album has the same muggy, claustrophobic vibe of ' , just maybe an alternate mix where the sax noise freakout of "L.A. Blues" was more the mission statement than a closing jam. The nearly 20-minute instrumental album-closer "A Whole New Jupiter" stretches into the outer reaches of the galaxy, with passages of sax and feedback receding to reveal a brassy synth sequence threading the rhythm together. Much like the rest of the album, the songs' meditative grooves and pockets of space create a cold and mysterious world for the listener to get lost in. Even at their most meandering, ' dense and hulking sound belies its own considered design. is the strongest chapter of their work to date and points towards even more interesting space explorations to come. ~ Fred Thomas