As ridiculous as it may sound, for several months now I’ve actually had no functioning stereo, the CD player having long since skidded to a shuddery halt. I know it is going to take me months of reading reviews, attempting to triangulate qualitative evidence across various independent sources, and flicking through shiny metal box-porn magazines full of adverts for these warehouses based in Kent with prices which just say £CALL, whatever that means, before I’ll even think about parting with any GBP for a replacement. I’m quaking with dread just thinking about the process. Maybe it was that terror which made me want to feed this new Lawrence English CD into the malfunctioning machine, but after a bit of chatter and chirrup, the dumb beast burst into life, and the room was filled with a lush roar. I turned the volume up until the room shook.

Kiri No Oto is Japanese for “sound of fog”. Now hailing from the north east of Scotland, fog is something I have plenty experience of, and I must confess that it has never filled me with the pleasure that I got from listening to this disc at high volume. In fact, even listening at more restrained decibel levels it sounds loud, such is the level of distortion that English has applied in his efforts to simulate the effects of particularly inclement weather conditions. First track “Organs At Sea” sets the tone gloriously, with thick churchy drone submerged under huge washes of static – it sounds like something you would find on a Tim Hecker album. After a couple of minutes of ominous atmospheric conditions, “White Spray” erupts with malevolence, sounding like a ill-advised mixture of water, metal and electricity. The lush ringing tones and vaguely recollected melodies buried deep within “Waves Sheer Light” are reminiscent of fellow Touch resident BJ Nilsen; later “Allay” supplements this palete with some disturbing, hard-earned electronic breaths. Kiri No Oto ends with “Oamura” being slowly gouged away by a raging tide until all that remains is the sea, thrashing away invisibly behind the curtain of freezing fog.

My CD player hasn’t bothered to play anything since, but if that was to be its swansong, what a way to burn out: I’ll remember those forty-three minutes for quite some time. Give it a go yourself with a copy from Touch: truly, Kiri No Oto is not to be mist.