You walk along the black, cragged earth. It’s dark, and all around you is desolate nothingness. The sky is devoid of stars, yet a faint luminescent glow allows you to vaguely see your surroundings. You are alone, more alone than anyone has ever been. The ground shakes, and a large fissure slashes across the earth in front of you. The two halves divide, expelling the roars of countless terrors. You trip and grasp the cliff edge, before falling into the abyss . . .

Caution: this record is not for the faint of heart or those looking for a euphonious, easy-listening experience. There are dark things lurking and thrashing about in this music, things only those possessing thick skin and a thirst for violently captivating exploration should seek. Communion is the newest full-length from Texan producer Eric Burton under his Rabit moniker. If you’re still reading, I commend you for your bravery.

Journeying through this album is akin to exploring a haunted house, where each door contains unknown, unspeakable horrors. There are components of grime — distorted 808s, rapid-fire samples, dismantled rhythms — and distinct tinges of industrial in the minor-key, sickly beautiful melodies, but this beast is of a totally unique species. It’s a harrowing adventure and it knocks you around, but it’s one that you won’t soon forget.

This music embodies the definition of polarizing; there isn’t a trace of mainstream appeal to be found, but the innovation in composition and conceptualization is incredibly potent. If you’re the right type of person, this record might be your favorite release of the year. At the very least, you’ll exit the experience with a new chill down your spine. If you’re seeking frightening, experimental electronics, this album is for you.

– stasi (@stasisphere)