Every Mouth Teeth Missing

In the works for three years, or roughly since ‘Arpo’, Call Super’s third album moves his production tekkers to the next level. It incorporates stronger influence than ever from prevailing outernational rhythm currents, as well as stark modern classical and post-rock styles, to feel out a lushly organic and emotionally personalised sort of ambient dance ecosystem, one teeming with detailed and bedevilling production which gives voice to his most curious and inventive musical urges.

The level of nanometer-tight, obsessively filigree detail to his work here is just dead impressive, leaving no second sparing for movement in 10 succinct parts that add up to an ingenious, fractal mosaic of all his previous ideas, and then some. This new approach can be summed in the title and aesthetic of album opener ‘An Unstable Music’, where shards of metal guitar, icy piano droplets and bursts of concète texture set scattered coordinates for what’s to follow; taking in crystalline 2-step in ‘Pleasure For Pleasure’, and a lip-bitingly tight dembow mutation of shine-eyed ‘90s AI in ‘Opperton Swim’, before it turns deep inward with his murky collage of chamber-like strings and strung-out vox in the ‘Mouth Bank Bed’, and the likes of ‘Sleep All Night With Open Eye’ push into a gloomy but humid sort of phantasia that sweetly contrasts his radiant webs of insectoid patterns recalling Beatrice Dillon’s amazing ‘Workaround’ album in ‘Ekkles’, and the schizzy switch between deliquescent arps and frayed, Graham Lambkin-like vocals that wrap up the album in a wickedly puzzling knot.

While DJ Python’s remarkable ‘Mas Amable’ album might seem a hard act to follow, Call Super’s mix of instinctive and meticulous sensibilities on ‘Every Mouth Teeth Missing’ should keep Incienso firmly in spotlight and serve a smart reminder that the best UK music is outward looking, weirdly wired.