Improv duos don’t usually flirt this aggressively with psychy/doom-drone/noise aesthetics, nor do they organize themselves along the cusps of almost-but-nope-not-quite-predictable sound structures, tones, or sonorities throughout an album, but all these qualities come together cohesively and stunningly and STILL manage to resemble something aleatory and otherworldly, like something NASA has likely already piped down from their fancy satellites…oh, but here we are. COIMS is not fucking around.
Or rather, they Are fucking around So Hard that they’ve discovered (and mastered) a solid niche for themselves that is every bit as adventurous in its being hard to follow as it is its remaining easy to get lost in. While, generally, no more than two events are going on at any given time on this transmission, both (actions) heavily bolster the others’ sonic potency ten-fold, filling out the space and saturating it with foreboding intent, as if they were but two frantically gesturing arms separated only by the throbbing, caving torso of your own mind, each of their fingers flicking & flickering on and off again a series-switcheroo of contact mic-captured acoustic crackles, cackles, and echos, heavily processed string-wrought textures, loose-riffage, drone, and/or myriad herz-levels of feedback. It’s all just a hair shy of a bit much, as far as minimalism historically concerns itself, and it's all fucking great.
A didgeridoo, space-monk, and/or cosmic death ray may make multiple appearances. At times, a mysterious spaghetti-western vibe threatens to take hold, were that “West" to be an amalgam of Joshua Tree and Roswell, but each joined, somehow, improbably fused and infused with the unconquerable terrain and tribal spirit of inner Australia. This release is powerful, and a great addition to the ever stalwart Eh? roster!
and/or
—Jacob An Kittenplan