4 out of 5

Label: Ectopic Ents

Produced by: J. G. Thirlwell

Radiolarian Ooze, from my understanding, is the layer of sediment on the ocean floor that has resulted from the “skeletons” of zooplankton – or radiolarians. A pretty specific, and badassly illustative, phrase. And I’d want to map that to the narrative of J.G. Thirlwell’s second Manorexia release that bears its name, but I’m rather foiled by its Foetus-like song titles – Planet of the Aches, Ataxia – though we do get some possible links like Flourescent Radiation, or Cosmos Brutile. Still, though, I think finding a story there is a fool’s errand, as even mapping the title to the music is made difficult by the cinematic antics of centerpiece Ataxia, the Thirlwellian circus-like pomp of which is not something I’d expect to hear in the deep ocean.

So we’ll set all that aside, and go on vibes only.

Manorexia is another brilliant reversal of the general Thirlwell approach, in which big, rhythmic beats and/or chaotic electronics support J.G.’s caustic vocals or his widescreen instrumental tales of adventure, danger, humor, and disruption. It’s already a widely varied career with experimental pseudonyms; Manorexia explores through a more ambient soundscape.

The first chunk of Ooze – wee! – flows pretty slickly together – double wee! – but it is an interestingly unsettling experience of ominous static, and drone-like clicks and clacks, landing between the dreamy pseudo-beats of Aphex Twin’s Ambient Works II, and the electro experimentation of latter-day Amon Tobin, though there’s a grounding in organic elements – some strings, some beats – that could bring you to outre classical, like Kronos Quartet or more likely something way further out on the Tzadik label. While some of the songs leading into Ataxia allow in more familiar Thirlwell rhythms, it is on the aforementioned Ataxia that he allows himself to break out in Venture Bros.-like thrills, albeit it’s not as all out as that music can be – you’ll just recognize some leit motifs. This is also the track where the album’s flow shudders a bit, though, as it hits a pretty good stop at like 7- or 8-minutes into its 11, then picks up again, abruptly, in a related but still different direction. I can’t quite piece together the design here, as we don’t really circle back around to anything revelatory from the song’s first portion, and these minutes are also a bit too much to act like a coda.

This additionally makes it hard to switch into the album’s most abstract works – Chloe Don’t Know I’m Alive, and the cacophonously celebratory Cosmos Brutile – before Thirlwell again allows in some more familiar (if paced and minimal) beats in the album’s concluding tracks.

Setting aside my inability to find a story here and the hard stop in Ataxia, The Radiolarian Ooze is a unique experience amongst Manorexia albums, and from Thirlwell’s catalog: willing to be very, very minimal while also lush, and varied, and clearly borne of the ever calculating and composing mind behind Foetus.