Imagine a desolate, neon-lit spaceship drifting through the ether of post-Soviet sci-fi cinema. This is the soundscape conjured by Jasnovidec (Daniel Jakes and Michael Nechvatal) and Tarnovski in their self-titled collaboration. Born from the sweat-soaked August of 2021 in Pardubice’s Divadlo 29 - a crucible for avant-garde experimentation in the Czech Republic - this album encapsulates the creative intensity of four days and nights of modular synth exploration.

Jasnovidec’s trademark is dystopian rigor: their modular synth setups churn out stark, industrial sonics with all the subtlety of a "slow-motion mating ritual of earthmovers" (as Byron Coley aptly described in "The Wire"). Tarnovski, on the other hand, dances in a parallel universe of playful sonic abstraction, as evidenced in his work with Gurun Gurun and Wabi Experience. Together, they’re the peanut butter and pickles of experimental electronic music - a combination so odd it works perfectly.

From the first crackle of “Orakulum” (“The Oracle”), you’re submerged in an alien world. The track is short but potent, a cryptic transmission from an unknown source. The sense of mystery deepens with “Neviditelna krajina” (“Invisible Landscape”), where shimmering tones and layered textures over a carpet a cricket-like noises evoke a shimmering, invisible realm, both inviting and unsettling. It’s as if Tarnovski’s whimsical touch whispers of possibility, while Jasnovidec’s darker tones remind us not to stray too far.

“Disputace troufalcu” (“The Debate of the Daring”) and “Duleziti lidé” (“Important People”) shift gears with glitchy, fractured rhythms, suggesting a mechanical debate between ancient robots who’ve forgotten their purpose. There’s something deeply human - and absurd - hidden in these mechanical squabbles. Tarnovski’s "freak gamer pace" breathes an almost comical vitality into Jasnovidec’s oppressive corridors, resulting in a soundtrack fit for the awkward silences of existential crises.

The pièce de résistance, “Trpytivy svt za horizontem” (“The Glittering World Beyond the Horizon”), stretches out like an 8-minute odyssey across cosmic desolation. Its lush layers glimmer with Tarnovski’s playful touches, while Jasnovidec’s undercurrent of brooding menace hints at the dangers lurking behind the horizon. This is music for the bittersweet moments when hope and despair collide, as if Tarkovsky’s "Solaris" was remade with modular synths and duct tape.

“Kamenna hlava psa” (“The Stone Head of a Dog”) and “Arzen” (“Arsenic”) close the album with a mix of menace and wry humor. The former feels like a folklore tale told by malfunctioning AI; the latter, a finale of corrosive beauty that leaves a lingering aftertaste, equal parts haunting and oddly satisfying.

Mixed and co-mastered by Tomas Federsel and Ondrej Jezek, the album’s sound is as vivid as its artwork by Jan Burian. It’s raw yet refined, mechanical yet organic - a perfect encapsulation of its creators’ shared and divergent sensibilities.

This collaboration sound more like a philosophical experiment. By blending Jasnovidec’s dystopian rigor with Tarnovski’s curious whimsy, it transcends its parts, delivering a soundscape that’s as bleak as it is hopeful, as alien as it is familiar. Whether you're scoring your next sci-fi film or just need a soundtrack for contemplating the absurdity of existence, "Jasnovidec & Tarnovski" is essential listening.

And if nothing else, it’s a damn good excuse to wonder: what if the machines were right all along?