“Svart / Hvitt” (“Black / White”) is for the most part a very extreme piece, and mostly as stark as its artwork. It’s a work for testing the quality and depth of your audio system, as it explores extremely low bass rumbles and drones, and sporadically toys with dog-whistle-high notes, but leaves almost nothing inbetween. People with weak playback systems might often think nothing is playing at all, it really is that extreme.

Across 52 minutes and four numbered pieces, it takes a while for the scale of this nine-piece outfit to reveal itself. Largely flat, long and low string notes and thick liquid drumming tones fill part 1. This is bookended well by the similar but thicker and more mid-range rich drones in part 4, while the bits inbetween are somewhat odder.

Part 2 feels more conventionally orchestral, with various instruments bowing and scratching at each other in what feels like an imitation traffic jam, before more aggressive and impulsive scraping takes over and it eventually unfolds into an orchestral street fight, then a long and discombobulating steady exercise in microtonal increase that, by the end, becomes a challenge to see at which point your ears stop enjoying the screeching and it becomes unpleasant.

Part 3 is a little more obtuse, with more emphasis on atmospherics and the imitation of them- growling engine-like noises from the strings, sea and wave crashing white noises, and hollow circular metallic motions a little akin to… erm… the sound of washing up. It feels at times like a series of different vignettes of a small orchestra imitating the sounds of everyday life, like some form of quiz.

It’s a captivating listen from an ensemble clearly in tune with one another, and while sometimes it feels like there is no longer anything new under the avantgarde sun, no thread of composition or decomposition that remains unexplored, there’s still enough intrigue and complexity of texture in here to keep things decidedly interesting.