The opening scene of a light hearted comedy with relaxing colours and beautiful people on a beach is snatched from under us, as the illusion turns into a tarantula the size of a car creeping slowly towards you. Stuck in your web of joy, the tracks titled 'Waste Land' are interesting in that they are like deconstructed and grinded-into-powder techno tracks where rhythm is sliced and triggered at random and bass is there to paint the grittiness of alternative universe where a person lies vacant and defeated in a small boat with a visible yet unreachable shoreline, stuck in the parallax of time.

And so the melodramatic character gets up from the bout of confusion and continues by sheer curiosity of what to believe in, facing serious internal peace-making and treaty signing business with their fears. Some of these tracks feel like they've been pitched, solidified into non-Newtonian fluid then made into warm candy and been stretched as far as possible. These tracks in particular are those reminiscent of the nauseating confusion one is faced with when for too long they've filled their mental playground with too much stuff, to distract them from how enormous and involved that one thought alone is.

Though this malignant existential atrophy fades when the survival instinct kicks in, with melodic constructs loitering amongst the lower frequencies and attention is directed at the eardrum-shredding claps of the high frequencies telling you to focus your attention here, as if trying to force you to keep listening. Unheard sound effects chat away happily, sort of like when a sprinkler is on a rotation cycle and occasionally slaps the nearby window, giving the room an aquatic gleam with the sunlight filtering through the wet window.

With a discography I wish was a lot more meatier, Shinichi Atobe represents a kind of very isolated sort of experimental dance music, one which gives rise to a new strain.