It starts with a scuffing, stuttering, bassy scraping, with lovely attendant crackles; and this scraping provides the spine of the entire track. Perhaps “thread” is a better word to use, since the scrape is not always a dominating feature - indeed, at points, its very slight; and as a sound its often somewhat spidery in terms of how much space it takes up in the sound-field. Its not a monolithic, speaker-dominating element. After a while, a muffled mid-frequency wind enters underneath this sound, providing a backdrop so that the abrasive wonder of the “thread” can be well appreciated. It truly passes through some quite beautiful sounds. The scraping finally bursts open into a surging wall just before the nine minute mark; and, after the restraint of the previous minutes, it sounds strong and powerful, like a river bursting its banks. The wall has sharp, aggressive streaks, and a low-end that rises up and then disappears just as quickly. After this outburst, theres a lengthy section of calmer sounds, with increasingly treble-y crackle and possible reverb in the background. On “II”, there’s quite masterful manipulation of the mid-frequencies; at times, Lungwash pulls his materials to even suggest the tearing of flesh and bone. Theres a nice passage of such rendering, on a bed of hiss, before a ripping wall slams through the speakers after sixteen minutes. Growling bass and dancing treble. These higher frequencies then re-emerge as gusts and assume the head of this flailing beast, till they are reined back into the greater whole. Once this all subsides, there’s more exemplary exploration of sound; with Lungwash finding a nice “drumming” mid-frequency tone. There really is constant movement on “II”, to the extent that the notion of static noise has to be discarded; as well as the movement of the track elements, there’s continual sculpting and tweaking of the sound of the elements. The next passage of note appears around the thirty minute mark: a hesitant, thick, mid-frequency wall, with kinetic treble cracks and pops twisting and turning over it. These pops are remarkable; they sound like the spitting of burning logs. They gradually build from microscopic specks to larger, more crunchy creakings. Six minutes later, what appear to be field recordings enter, with the natural reverb qualities of a tunnel. These provide a well-timed change of tone and content, though we don’t have long to enjoy these before a scorched earth wall smashes through, with sharp jolts of treble and fizz. This grinds to a halt, quite abruptly, becoming quiet, muffled thuds; Lungwash then patiently builds up from these, layer by layer, till the wall has been rebuilt to its previous stature. In the final minutes of the track, the wall gets cut back a couple of times (though now to more savage shards of crunchy mid-frequencies) before ending with a blizzard of harsh mid and treble rain.

This is quite a tour de force of a release. Normally I enjoy losing myself in the close listening and “here and now” of a HNW release, but with “II”, it seems a more birds-eye view is appropriate. Structurally, in the simplest of terms, its a series of tense, restrained passages of deft control, interspersed with passages of blistering walls - with each element enriching the effects of the other. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an HNW release that covers as much ground, texturally and structurally, as “II”. These textures are beautifully coaxed and controlled, and whilst the higher and lower frequencies shine in Lungwash’s hands (as well as the aforementioned dancing treble pops, there are also points where the bass sounds like breaths), its his mid-frequency work that truly astounds. At times I can hear voices in the walls, rainfall - even trains.

Throughout the above, I’ve made several references to water, and indeed the name Lungwash itself suggests something liquid; but I can’t help but want to make geological analogies to “II”. Silt, rocks, soil, clay: this is what I hear, here.